One thing is for sure, from the moment we touch down at Tunis airport, I feel safer than at home in Paris, where the gilets jaunes protesters maraud down the Champs-Elysées every Saturday.

The heart of Tunisia’s capital is its medieval medina, a Unesco World Heritage-recognised maze of souks selling balghaleather slippers, colourful ceramics, gold jewellery, essential oils distilled from jasmine and bitter orange, and knock-off Chanel N°5. The seething crowds in the narrow alleyways are a mixture of tourists and locals, but unlike in many North African markets, foreigners browse without being hassled, directions are politely given and although bargaining is a must, there is no incessant pestering if a deal cannot be reached.

Relative calm prevails, too, when I sit down for a shisha pipe in the smoky Cafe Dribat and later join a friendly communal table in the magical Fondouk El Attarine, in Souk El Attarine. Once a 17th century caravanserai for perfume merchants, it has been turned into a popular canteen in which to feast on rich lamb chorba soup, couscous with spicy merguez sausages and sea bream kabkabou slow-cooked with tomatoes, capers, saffron and olives.

Another sign Tunis is bouncing back is the appearance of boutique hotels and fashionable B&Bs in the medina, a trend similar to the riad vogue in Morocco.

“We opened a little nervously just over a year ago but have been surprised with the response and high occupancy,” says Ezzedine Abdelkefi, owner of Dar El Jeld Hotel & Spa, an 18th century Ottoman mansion now transformed into 16 spacious suites, with a traditional marble hammam.

Taxis are plentiful, cheap and vital for exploration beyond the centre. Take one and it soon becomes apparent Tunisia is different to its Maghreb neighbours. The country’s cultural heritage began with animist Berber tribesmen, then ran through the Phoenician founding of the Carthage empire and 500 years of Roman civilisation before the arrival of Islam from Arabia. The Ottomans ruled for three centuries, then came Italian immigration and French coloni­sation before independence barely 60 years ago.

Unlike its Muslim neighbours, Tunisia recognises le weekend as being Saturday and Sunday rather than Friday and Saturday; French, not Arabic, is the lingua franca; women in veils are rare; and there is a thriving wine industry.

Twenty minutes’ drive from the medina, the state-of-the-art Bardo museum has one of the world’s finest collections of Roman mosaics. Also on show is a mosaic dedicated to the victims of the 2015 museum attack, including pictures of them all.

A 30-minute drive east, on the coast, the ruins of Carthage evoke a period when this was the gateway to Africa. The statues and columns of the ancient forum are undisturbed by the tourist masses, which can turn sightseeing into an obstacle course at attractions such as Rome’s Coliseum.

To the north of Carthage lie the long sandy beaches of La Marsa. The Mediterranean climate here is perfect for a spaghetti alla bottarga at Le Golf, a chic Saint-Tropez-style hang-out where you may even spot local girl-made-good Claudia Cardinale, winner of the “Most Beautiful Italian Girl in Tunisia” competi­tion in 1957, and later a household name among European cinema-goers.

A 160km drive south through olive groves, fruit orchards and vineyards is the ancient city of Sousse, with its 1,200-year-old medina, Great Mosque and fortified kasbah enclosed by towering ramparts. A modern zone of resort hotels lines the beach where the terror attack took place. The resorts are surprisingly busy, drawing young party and family crowds seduced by low-cost all-inclusive packages, but the colourful food market and backstreets of the old town are thronged by curious, more affluent tourists, too.

“It is time to develop a different kind of tourism in Tunisia to bring people back to the country,” says French-born Sonia Mathlouthi, who opened Dar Antonia, a chic four-suite maison d’hôte in the heart of the medina, 18 months ago. “We have had great success [with] a different kind of visitor wanting to discover the real Sousse, Tunisian gastronomy and wine, artisan crafts and our haunting arabo-andalou music, played live in local cafes.”

On the way back to Tunis, I stop at the walled fishing port of Hammamet, and meet Mouna Ben Halima, an activist during the jasmine revolution.

“I stopped working for two years after the revolution to help educate people,” she says. “I travelled around the country, trying to persuade people to register on the election lists, to be able to participate in our new democracy, to ensure everyone understood just what a chance we had [...] to embrace all the possibilities of demo­cracy: clean elections, a free press, religious tolerance. But eventually I realised that the real problem in Tunisia was the economy and unemployment.”

So she opened La Badira, a hip five-star hotel, “to provide work for people”.

“Now an international clientele, looking for an alternative to mass tourism – we have a Clarins spa, gourmet chef, mixologist barman – is discovering that Tunisia is worth a visit.”

I spend my last evening picking up artisan handicrafts in Hammamet’s souk before a steep climb to Barberousse, a seafood restaurant atop the 13th century ramparts. A spectacular sunset illuminates the bay and faraway mountains while freshly caught lobster is simply grilled, served with a touch of harissa, the lethal local chilli paste, and accom­panied by a crisp, chilled Tunisian char­donnay named after Carthage’s Magon, regarded as the father of viticulture and inspiration for the bacchanalian mosaics in the Bardo museum.

A European DJ is playing at one of Hammamet’s waterside dance clubs, a waiter tells me, but I decide to leave such pleasures for a future visit.