Best Eco-Friendly Resorts and Sustainable Stays in Sidi Bou Said

Finding the Best Eco Friendly Resorts in Sidi Bou Said

There is a particular shade of blue that only shows up in Sidi Bou Said on late October afternoons, just before the streetlamps flicker on and the day-trippers from Tunis begin heading back down the hill. I have spent enough evenings on Rue Habib Thameur, watching that light fade through latticed moucharabieh screens, to know that the best eco friendly resorts in Sidi Bou Said are not the ones with glossy sustainability certificates pinned to a wall. They are the old houses that were green before anyone invented the word, built from local stone, ventilated by sea breezes that cross the Bay of Tunis, and heated in winter with olive wood harvested from the surrounding Carthage hills. The village itself, perched 70 meters above the coast on the Cap Bon peninsula, has been shaping a low-impact relationship with its environment for centuries. What follows is not a marketing list. It is the result of years of walking these cobbled stairs, knocking on blue doors, and knowing which courtyards hold the coolest air in July.

How to Understand Sustainable Hotels Sidi Bou Said Before You Book

Before listing specific places, it helps to understand what sustainability actually looks like in a village this size. Sidi Bou Said covers barely a few square kilometers. There are no sprawling beachfront compounds here, no golf courses, no imported conference centers. The architecture is Andalusian Ottoman, the streets donkey-wide in places, and the entire zone falls under heritage protection managed by the Association de Sauvegarde de la Médina de Sidi Bou Said. This means any renovation must respect original materials, local craftsmen, and the signature blue-and-white palette. When people search for sustainable hotels Sidi Bou Said, they are mostly finding restored dars and houses whose owners have chosen to keep traditional cooling and heating methods (thick earth walls, cross-ventilation, rooftop terraces) rather than retrofit air conditioning systems they cannot maintain affordably. The real question to ask any host is whether they source food from local fishermen in La Marsa, whether they separate waste (the village has a recycling collection point on Avenue Habib Bourguiba unlike many coastal towns), and whether their garden irrigation uses well water or the municipal supply that strains in summer. I have asked every place on this list those questions.

One thing most tourists would not know: village regulations prohibit any structure from rising above two stories, and no building can be painted a color not approved by the heritage committee. This alone makes Sidi Bou Said one of the most environmentally constrained developments in North Africa.

Dar Zine el Abidine, the Dar on Rue du Planteur

The Old Palace That Reads Like a History of the Village

On Rue du Planteur, one of the quieter lanes that runs parallel to the main tourist drag, there is a dar built in the early nineteenth century by a family connected to the Sufi saint after whom the village is named. Dar Zine el Abidine has been run as a guesthouse for over a decade by a Tunisian family who refused to install central air conditioning, relying instead on the original ventilation design where cooler air enters from a ground-level courtyard and rises through internal shafts to exit through rooftop openings. The rooftop terrace overlooks the minaret of the Zawiya and the sea beyond, and on a clear March morning you can see the outline of Jebel Zaghouan to the south. Rooms feature hand-produced Zlaabiye tiles, beds with wool mattresses sourced from the interior towns of Kairouan, and drinking water served in reused glass bottles filtered on site. Lighting throughout runs on a low-voltage solar system installed in 2019 on the roof, supplemented by the municipal grid only during the winter months when daylight hours drop below ten.

The Vibe? Quiet in a way that makes you forget Rue Habib Thameur is two minutes downhill. Polished floors, rose petals on pillows, and a courtyard jasmine that has been here since before the current owners arrived.
The Bill? Around 120 to 200 Tunisian dinars per night depending on the season. Summer and the Carthage Festival period push toward the upper range.
The Standout? Breakfast is served on the rooftop, and if you go on weekdays between November and March, you will likely be the only guest at the table. Fresh harcha bread still warm from the baker on Rue Sidi Dhrif, local honey from the Cap Bon apiaries, and mint tea with no electricity involved in the brewing.
The Catch? Getting luggage up the narrow lane is a chore. There is no parking closer than the public lot near Café des Nattes, and the downhill walk from there involves uneven stone steps. Anyone with mobility issues should call ahead, and the owners will arrange help.
The Insider Detail? Ask to see the old olive oil press sitting unused in the basement. Still functional. The owners occasionally fire it up for village heritage days in late spring, and the scent of crushed Chemlali olives drifts up through the stairwell for hours.

Dar Fatma, Rue Sidi Bou Mendil

Where Green Travel Sidi Bou Said Meets a Centuries-Old Hammam Tradition

Rue Sidi Bou Mendil is a steep, shaded staircase that connects the upper part of the village near the marabout of the saint down to the lower lane near the old hammam. Dar Fatma sits partway down this street, wedged between two other blue doors, easy to miss unless you know the brass knocker shaped like a hand of Fatima. This is a small dar, only four rooms, run by a woman named Fatma (yes, the house is named after her, not some forgotten ancestor) who grew up here and converted her family home into a guesthouse using funding from a European Union cultural heritage program. She composts all organic waste in a small stone bin behind the kitchen and distributes the finished compost to the herb growers along the La Marsa road. Guest toiletries are locally made soap from Nabeul, pressed from olive pomace. Her water heating is solar thermal, panels sitting discreetly behind a parapet wall so they do not disturb the visual character of the street as required by heritage codes.

Fatma serves dinner on request, prepared from whatever the fishermen brought to La Marsa that morning. Red mullet (rouget) is frequent in winter. In spring, look for louz (sea urchin roe) if you do not mind the texture, or ask her to make a simple omek houria spiced with locally dried mint.

The Vibe? Like being invited into someone's actual home, because that is exactly what it is. You will hear the neighbor's radio, the call to prayer, the stray cats negotiating territory. Total solitude this is not, but total authenticity it absolutely is.
The Bill? About 90 to 140 dinars. Dinner is an additional 25 to 35 dinars depending on the catch.
The Standout? Fatma will walk you down to the hammam if you ask. She knows the attendant. The heat comes from burning olive pomace cakes compressed in Gafsa, a fuel source that has stayed the same for generations.
The Catch? Only one bathroom serves the four rooms. In peak season with a full house, morning queues form. Fatma keeps a schedule posted on a chalkboard and asks guests to claim slots the night before, which works reasonably well but requires cooperation.
The Insider Detail? The carved wooden lintel above Fatma's front door was taken by her grandfather from a demolished warehouse in the old port of Tunis in the 1940s. Ask her about it. She will tell you the story of how it was carried on a donkey cart up the hill, and she will make sure you notice the small geometric motifs that match those inside the Sidi Bou Said zawiya.

The Blue Door Maison d'Hôtes, Avenue Habib Thameur

The Main Street Option That Actually Takes Sustainability Seriously

Most people walk straight past the guesthouses on Avenue Habib Thameur, assuming that anything on the high-rent main street must be a tourist trap with a gift shop. The Blue Door Maison d'Hôtes challenges that assumption, modestly. Located between the post office and a calligraphy gallery, it operates in a dar restored in 2016 with a deliberate low-impact philosophy. Grey water from sinks and showers feeds the courtyard garden through a simple filtration bed of gravel and reed plants. Cleaning products are phosphate-free and sourced from a women's cooperative in Tataouine. Furniture is a mix of restored antiques and new pieces built by carpenters working with salvaged olive wood from the region around Zaghouan. The owner keeps a logbook of monthly electricity consumption displayed in the entrance hall; in 2022, the average was 60 percent below what a comparable-sized guesthouse with full air conditioning would typically use in summer.

Breakfast includes seasonal fruit from the Cap Bon orchards and a house-made fig jam that appears in August and September when the Sicus trees along the La Marsa road are heavy with fruit. The figs in this particular corridor of Tunisia, the variety called Bidhi, produce small, intensely sweet fruits with almost no fibrous core. Most tourists eating figs in Sidi Bou Said vendors do not realize they are tasting something specific to this stretch of coast.

The Vibe? More polished than Dar Fatma, more accessible to mainstream travelers, but not corporate. Expect clean lines, carefully chosen art on the walls, and someone who can speak fluent French, Arabic, and passable English.
The Bill? 150 to 240 dinars. Higher, but you are paying for the location and the solar hot water system that keeps showers reliably warm even in January.
The Standout? The courtyard at dusk. The owner has planted a pomegranate tree that fruits in October, and the combination of the fading blue light on the walls and the red fruit hanging overhead is something no photograph does justice.
The Catch? Street noise carries. Avenue Habib Thameur is the main artery, and delivery trucks, tour groups, and the occasional motorbike start passing by around 7:30 in the morning. Light sleepers should request a room facing the interior courtyard.
The Insider Detail? The owner's grandfather was one of the signatories of the 1936 petition to the French colonial authorities demanding that the blue-and-white color scheme be legally protected. A framed copy of the petition hangs in the hallway. Ask to see it. It is a remarkable document, and it explains why the village looks the way it does today.

Eco Lodge Sidi Bou Said: The Concept and Where to Find It

Why the Term "Eco Lodge" Means Something Specific Here

The phrase eco lodge Sidi Bou Said gets thrown around by booking platforms in ways that would make the village's heritage association wince. In a place this small, an eco lodge is not a standalone compound with its own nature trail. It is a house that has made deliberate choices about energy, water, waste, and food sourcing while operating within the tight physical and regulatory constraints of a protected heritage zone. The closest thing to a dedicated eco lodge experience in Sidi Bou Said is a cluster of three dars on Rue du Pacha, collectively managed by a Tunisian environmental NGO that rehabilitated the buildings in 2018. These dars share a communal garden where guests can see composting, rainwater harvesting (a 5,000-liter underground cistern collects winter rainfall for summer garden irrigation), and a small demonstration plot of indigenous Mediterranean herbs: rosemary, wild thyme, myrtle, and the caper bushes that grow out of the old stone walls throughout the village.

The NGO runs occasional workshops on traditional building techniques, including tadelakt (a waterproof lime plaster used in hammams and fountains) and the production of lime-wash paint using local limestone. These workshops are open to guests and sometimes to the public, announced on a chalkboard at the entrance. Staying here is less about luxury and more about understanding how a North African coastal village functioned sustainably for centuries before the concept had a name.

The Vibe? Communal, educational, slightly institutional. You are staying in a project, not a hotel. That is either appealing or off-putting depending on what you want from your holiday.
The Bill? 80 to 130 dinars. Workshop participation is included in the room rate.
The Standout? The rainwater cistern. Ask to see it. The engineering is simple and elegant, and the NGO coordinator can explain how it reduces municipal water demand by roughly 40 percent during the dry months.
The Catch? The shared garden means shared space. Privacy is limited. If you want a romantic getaway with total seclusion, this is not it. Also, the NGO's funding cycles mean that maintenance can be inconsistent; I have visited twice where one of the shower drains was slow, and the coordinator was waiting on a plumber from La Marsa.
The Insider Detail? The caper demonstration plot produces enough fruit each June for the kitchen to make its own caper preserve. If you are there during that window, ask for it at breakfast. The buds are pickled in sea water collected from the shore below the village, not from a bottle.

Café des Nattes and the Surrounding Guesthouses, Rue Sidi Bou Said

The Lower Village and Its Quiet Sustainability Story

Café des Nattes is the most photographed spot in Sidi Bou Said, the one with the woven mats on the terrace and the view across the marina to the Bay of Tunis. Most people stop for a mint tea and leave. What they miss is that the cluster of small guesthouses within a two-minute walk of the café, along the lower Rue Sidi Bou Said and the lane leading down toward the marina, represents some of the oldest continuously inhabited residential architecture in the area. Several of these houses have been quietly converted into guest accommodations by families who have owned them for generations. They do not advertise on international platforms. You find them by word of mouth, or by knocking on a blue door and asking.

One such house, which I will call the Marina Dar to respect the owner's preference for privacy, runs entirely on solar electricity and solar water heating. The owner, a retired schoolteacher, installed the panels in 2017 with a government subsidy available at the time for residential solar installations. She grows her own mint, lemons, and guava in a walled garden that catches the afternoon sun. Her guest rooms are simple, clean, and cooled by the sea breeze that comes up through the marina in the late afternoon. She serves a breakfast of kesra (semolina flatbread) with olive oil from her cousin's press in Sidi Thabet, a town about 20 kilometers inland known for its olive groves.

The Vibe? The Marina Dar is the kind of place where the owner remembers your name after one visit and asks about your family after two. It is not a business so much as a household that happens to have a spare room.
The Bill? 70 to 100 dinars. Cash only.
The Standout? The guava. If you visit in September or October, the tree produces fruit that the owner slices and serves with breakfast. It is unlike anything you will buy in a Tunis market, picked ripe from a tree ten meters from your table.
The Catch? The lane down to the marina is steep and has no handrail in places. After rain, the stone becomes slippery. Also, the nearest ATM is up the hill near the post office, a ten-minute walk that feels longer in the heat.
The Insider Detail? The retired schoolteacher's house contains a room with original painted ceiling beams from the late eighteenth century. She has refused multiple offers from decorators who wanted to photograph them for design magazines. You will only see them if she likes you, and she decides that over the first cup of tea.

The Sidi Bou Said Hammam, Rue Sidi Bou Mendil

A Sustainable Wellness Tradition That Predates the Concept

No discussion of green travel Sidi Bou Said is complete without the hammam, the public bath that has been the social and hygienic center of North African life for over a thousand years. The Sidi Bou Said hammam, tucked into the lower village on Rue Sidi Bou Mendil, operates on principles that modern sustainability advocates would recognize immediately: shared infrastructure, local fuel, minimal water waste, and zero single-use products. The heating system burns compressed olive pomace, a byproduct of the olive oil industry that would otherwise go to waste. Water is heated in a copper basin and channeled through clay pipes to the bathing rooms. The entire structure is built from local stone and lime plaster, materials that regulate humidity and temperature naturally.

The hammam is divided into men's and women's sections, with different hours posted on the door. Women typically go in the afternoon. The experience involves a hot room, a scrubbing with a coarse kessa glove, and a rinse with water heated to whatever temperature the attendant judges appropriate. It costs a few dinars. You bring your own soap (the Nabeul olive oil soap is traditional) and a towel. There is no appointment system. You show up, you wait your turn, you bathe. The social ritual of the hammam, the conversations, the shared space, the absence of digital screens, is itself a form of sustainable living that no resort can replicate.

The Vibe? Hot, humid, loud, and deeply communal. Not a spa. Not a wellness retreat. A working neighborhood institution that has been here since the Ottoman period.
The Bill? 5 to 8 dinars for entry. An additional 10 to 15 dinars if you want a massage or a full scrub from the attendant.
The Standout? The scrub. The kessa glove removes a layer of dead skin you did not know you had, and the attendant's technique, passed down through generations, is more effective and more affordable than any treatment at a luxury resort.
The Catch? The hammam can be crowded on Friday afternoons and during religious holidays. Go on a weekday morning for the quietest experience. Also, the changing room is basic, a stone bench and a hook. Do not expect lockers or fluffy robes.
The Insider Detail? The olive pomace fuel comes from a press in Oued Ellil, about 15 kilometers west of Tunis. The hammam attendant has been buying from the same supplier for over 20 years. If you ask, he will tell you that the quality of the pomace has declined slightly in recent years because newer presses extract more oil, leaving less energy in the waste. It is a small detail, but it tells you something about how agricultural changes ripple through traditions that depend on byproducts.

The Village Walk: Green Travel Sidi Bou Said on Foot

Why the Most Sustainable Way to Experience Sidi Bou Said Is to Walk It

The entire village is walkable in about 45 minutes if you do not stop, and you should stop constantly. Green travel Sidi Bou Said is not about finding the right resort. It is about understanding that the village itself is the attraction, and the best way to experience it is on foot, at a pace that lets you notice the details: the way the blue paint varies from house to house (some owners use indigo, others use a cobalt mixed with white, and the heritage committee has opinions about both), the cats sleeping in doorways, the old men playing checkers near the zawiya, the smell of fresh bread from the boulangerie on Rue Habib Thameur at 6 in the morning.

Start at the top of the village near the marabout and walk downhill. The gradient means your knees will feel the return trip, so pace yourself. Along the way, you will pass the Ennejma Ezzahra palace, built in the early twentieth century by Rodolphe d'Erlanger, a painter and musicologist who was obsessed with Arab musical traditions and who designed the house as a fusion of Andalusian and local styles. The palace now houses the Centre des Musiques Arabes et Méditerranéennes and hosts concerts during the summer. It is not a resort, but it is one of the most sustainably maintained heritage buildings in Tunisia, with original materials preserved and a garden that uses drip irrigation fed by a well.

The Vibe? A living village, not a museum. People live here, work here, argue about parking here. The tourist layer is thin if you know where to look.
The Bill? Free, unless you enter Ennejma Ezzahra (around 7 dinars) or buy something from a shop.
The Standout? The early morning walk, before 8 am, when the village belongs to residents. The light at that hour, slanting through the narrow streets, is the reason painters have been coming here since the 1920s.
The Catch? The cobblestones are uneven and can be slippery after rain. Wear shoes with grip, not sandals. Also, the village has no public restrooms except near the parking area, so plan accordingly.
The Insider Detail? The cats of Sidi Bou Said are not strays in the way you might think. They are communally fed, and several residents leave out food and water near their doors. The village has an informal cat care network that has operated for decades. If you sit still long enough, a cat will sit with you. This is not a tourist attraction. It is just how things work here.

The Food Stalls and Local Eateries, Rue Habib Thameur and the Lower Village

Eating Sustainably Without a Restaurant in Sight

Sidi Bou Said does not have a large restaurant scene, and that is part of its sustainability. The food available here is mostly street food and home cooking, sourced from the immediate region. The boulangerie on Rue Habib Thameur produces kesra and baguette-style bread using flour from Tunisian wheat, baked in a wood-fired oven that has been in continuous use since the 1960s. The brik stands (brik is a deep-fried pastry filled with egg, tuna, or cheese) use eggs from local farms and tuna caught by small-boat fishermen operating out of La Marsa and Sidi Daoud, the fishing port at the tip of Cap Bon. The makroudh stalls sell semolina pastries stuffed with date paste from the Djerid region in southern Tunisia, one of the few ingredients that travels a significant distance, but even here the quantities are small and the supply chain is direct.

For a sit-down meal, the small restaurants near the marina serve grilled fish, lablabi (a chickpea soup that is Tunisia's answer to comfort food, made with stale bread, chickpeas, olive oil, and harissa), and salade mechouia (a grilled pepper and tomato salad). The fish comes from the morning catch at La Marsa, and the vegetables from the Cap Bon market gardens. Nothing on the menu has been frozen, nothing has been shipped from overseas, and nothing costs more than about 15 to 25 dinars for a full meal.

The Vibe? Casual, fast, and unpretentious. You eat standing up or on a plastic chair. The view compensates for the furniture.
The Bill? A brik costs 3 to 5 dinars. A full fish lunch at a marina restaurant runs 18 to 30 dinars.
The Standout? The lablabi at the small shop near the bottom of Rue Sidi Bou Mendil. Made in a massive pot that starts simmering at 5 am, it is ready by 7 and gone by noon. The owner adds a raw egg and capers at the table, and the combination of the hot broth, the soft bread, and the sharp capers is something I have never found replicated elsewhere.
The Catch? The brik stalls generate a lot of single-use paper and plastic. There is no formal recycling collection at the stall level, and waste bins overflow on busy weekends. Carry your own bag for trash if you care about this.
The Insider Detail? The wood-fired oven at the boulangerie burns olive wood pruned from trees in the Carthage hills. The baker has a standing order with a pruner who works the municipal groves. The wood arrives in bundles on a trailer every two weeks, and the baker judges its quality by the color of the flame. He will show you the difference between Chemlali wood (hot, clean burn) and Zalmati wood (smokier, better for the final phase of baking) if you arrive early enough and speak a few words of Tunisian Arabic.

The Coastal Path to La Marsa: A Green Travel Sidi Bou Said Day Trip

Walking the Shoreline the Locals Have Used for Generations

Below Sidi Bou Said, a coastal path runs along the base of the cliff toward La Marsa, about a 45-minute walk on a paved and unpaved trail that passes through a corridor of pine trees and bougainvillea. This path has been used by fishermen and villagers for centuries, long before the road was built, and it remains one of the most pleasant low-impact excursions available from the village. The path is not signposted for tourists. You find it by walking down from the marina area and following the shoreline to the left. Along the way, you pass small coves where locals swim in summer, a few informal fishing spots, and the remains of a Roman-era fish-salting installation that most walkers step over without noticing.

La Marsa itself is a working coastal town with a daily fish market, a corniche lined with cafés, and a Friday souk that sells everything from secondhand clothes to live chickens. The fish market opens around 6 am and winds down by 10. The best time to arrive is between 7 and 8, when the catch is still fresh and the fishermen are willing to explain what they have brought in. Red mullet, sea bream, octopus, and sometimes squid. Everything is sold by weight in plastic buckets, and the price is negotiated in Tunisian dinars with a speed that can be bewildering if you are not used to it.

The Vibe? A working coast, not a resort beach. Fishermen mending nets, women walking to the market, teenagers jumping off rocks into the sea. It is the anti-Cancún, and that is precisely the point.
The Bill? Free to walk. Fish at the market costs 15 to 35 dinars per kilo depending on the species and the season.
The Standout? The Roman fish-salting remains. Look for the rectangular stone basins near the waterline, about halfway along the path. They are easy to miss, but once you see them, you understand that this coastline has been a food production site for over two thousand years.
The Catch? The path is not maintained to tourist standards. There are no railings, no benches, and no shade in the middle section. In summer, the heat reflected off the stone can be intense. Carry water and wear a hat.
The Insider Detail? The pine trees along the path are Aleppo pines, planted in the early twentieth century as part of a French colonial reforestation program. Before that, the cliff was mostly bare rock with scrub. The current tree cover is not natural, but it has become ecologically integrated, hosting a population of migratory birds that use the corridor as a stopover between Europe and sub-Saharan Africa. Birdwatchers with binoculars can spot warblers and flycatchers in spring and autumn.

When to Go and What to Know

Sidi Bou Said is pleasant year-round, but the best months for a sustainable, low-impact visit are October through April, when temperatures range from 12 to 22 degrees Celsius and the village is not overrun with day-trippers. Summer (June through September) brings heat that regularly exceeds 35 degrees, and the village fills with visitors from Tunis escaping the city. The narrow streets become congested, and the charm of the place is harder to access. If you must visit in summer, arrive before 9 am or after 5 pm.

The village has no large supermarkets. Shopping is done at small épiceries (grocery shops) that sell local products in minimal packaging. Bring a reusable bag. Tap water in Sidi Bou Said is safe to drink, though some visitors prefer bottled. If you choose bottled, buy the largest available container to reduce plastic waste, and refill smaller bottles from it.

Public transport to Sidi Bou Said consists of the TGM light rail line from Tunis Marine station, which takes about 35 minutes and costs around 1.2 dinars. This is the most sustainable way to reach the village. Driving is possible but parking is limited to two public lots at the top of the village, both of which fill up by 10 am on weekends.

Frequently Asked Questions

What is the safest and most reliable way to get around Sidi Bou Said as a solo traveler?

The TGM light rail from Tunis Marine station is the most reliable option, running every 10 to 15 minutes during peak hours and costing approximately 1.2 dinars for the trip to Sidi Bou Said. Within the village itself, everything is walkable on foot, and the compact size means you are never far from other people or main streets. Taxis from Tunis are available but cost 15 to 25 dinars depending on traffic and time of day.

How many days are needed to see the major tourist attractions in Sidi Bou Said without feeling rushed?

Two full days are sufficient to visit the main sites, including Ennejma Ezzahra palace, the zawiya, the hammam, the coastal path to La Marsa, and the village's key streets and viewpoints, without rushing. A single day is possible but will feel compressed, especially if you want to experience the early morning atmosphere or the late afternoon light that draws painters and photographers.

Is it possible to walk between the main sightseeing spots in Sidi Bou Said, or is local transport necessary?

All major sightseeing spots in Sidi Bou Said are within walking distance of each other. The village is small enough that the farthest points are no more than a 15 to 20 minute walk apart on foot. No local transport is needed within the village itself, and the narrow streets make motorized transport impractical in most areas.

Do the most popular attractions in Sidi Bou Said require advance ticket booking, especially during peak season?

Ennejma Ezzahra palace charges an entry fee of approximately 7 dinars and does not require advance booking at any time of year. The hammam operates on a walk-in basis with no reservations. Most other attractions, including the village streets, viewpoints, and the coastal path, are free and open at all times. Concerts at Ennejma Ezzahra during the summer festival season may require tickets, which are available at the door or through the center's office.

What are the best free or low-cost tourist places in Sidi Bou Said that are genuinely worth the visit?

The village streets themselves, with their blue-and-white architecture, are free to explore and are the primary attraction. The coastal path to La Marsa is free and offers views of the Roman fish-salting remains. The lower village near the marina provides free access to the waterfront and the atmosphere of a working fishing area. The zawiya and its surrounding square are free to visit outside of prayer times. Entry to Ennejma Ezzahra palace costs approximately 7 dinars and includes access to the building, its musical instrument collection, and the garden.