Chapter 7 – The beach and its revenge

And then Michael went to a resort. OK, close your gaping maws or you’ll catch flies. I do like a little R&R on vacation and the opportunity presented itself to catch a little culture of a different sort – so why not? We usually try to reserve a few days at the end of any trip to kick back and relax. Sometimes this is on the beach, sometimes its on a boat (a la Halong Bay in Vietnam), sometimes it’s just a few days in a nice hotel.

Anyway, we had been doing a lot of driving. Check that, I had been doing a lot of driving. And while that was a big part of the planned activities, it was getting a bit tiring. We were often in a destination one night and then a 4-5 hour drive the next day. As I’ve said before, the drivers here are pretty bad (makes Boston look good) so that adds a stress level. So while we had planned to go farther south into the desert to Tatouine to see the Berber fortresses, we chose instead to head to cut that part of the trip and spend a few days on the beach in Hammamet.

Hamammet is classic resortville. Big hotels all lined up in a row on the beach. Most of these resorts are filled with package tourists on all inclusive packages for a week. These tourists are here to sit on the beach or go to the pool or just drink (yes there were people drinking at 9:30 in the morning).

What this place really reminds me of is summer camp without the bug juice and cold showers. There are activities every hour (bocci!, archery!, aerobics! Water aerobics!). I’ve done archery a couple of times and am proud to say that I’m still pretty good at it. They’ve made it idiot proof by having arrows that notch into the line instead of having to hold it and they keep you pretty close to the target. Nevertheless, that was one part of camp I really enjoyed.

There’s a large central dining hall where everyone takes their meals. At least the food is OK (unlike my camp where the food was essentially inedible). Ironically, the Tunisian food they serve is the worst thing they do. I think they’ve been dumbing it down for the crowd. But the desert table is something to behold what with 10 different types of pastries, chocolate mousse, whipped cream and ice cream. People pile their plates up high and keep going back for more rounds. This morning at breakfast, I saw a man with 6, count em 6, hard boiled eggs on his plate. And let me tell you, this man did not need to eat six hard boiled eggs given his current girth. The excess is just remarkable especially in a country that’s not overflowing with plenty. I can only imagine the training sessions the staff must go through to prepare them for the sight of so much wasted food.

It has been a shock to the system to go from the real country to resortville. The resort is literally gated – no riffraff allowed. The guests seem pretty much oblivious to the rest of the country around them. The big excursion the resort provides is a pirate cruise. Literally, you would have no idea you were in North Africa if it wasn’t for the few Tunisian channels on television.

Speaking of television, there’s only one English channel, RT, which is for expats living in Russia. Now this seems fine, but it seems odd that this would be the choice given that there are actually Russians here who speak Russian. The channel is a hoot – it’s way way left – like Russia’s answer to Fox News. They have a program called “crosstalk” which is supposed to be a show that has different viewpoint on an issue. We watched one on US immigration and it was a giant love fest in favor. These are not folks who are spending a lot of time in the US.

Anyway, it’s just a bit odd to be suddenly in the lap of luxury and secluded from the real world. But I guess that’s kind of what camp is like (but with cold showers)

Quick note on booking the room. We had read in the guidebooks that off season, most of the big resorts have pretty big discounts for walk-ups. We had done a bit of research and had found the one we wanted and knew the relative price. We didn’t book online though and figured it would be the same if we walked in. Not so, the price we were quoted was about triple what we had seen online. So I got the trusty netbook, sat down in the lobby and logged onto their wifi and made the reservation. Voila!

So the bad news is that we came down with “la grippe” aka the stomach flu. We thought it might have been something we ate, but the doctor who came and made a housecall for us today (we’ve both been running fevers) said it was just a flu. Good news I guess is no food poisoning, bad news is that it just takes time to pass. Good news is that we are in a comfortable place where if you have to be cooped up it’s pretty nice. Bad news is that we’re missing a major Carthage ruin site, a major bird watching site and another whole town up north. Alas –that’s the way the baguette crumbles.

Our only major worry now is that the volcano behaves. On our incoming flight, I think we just made it out before they canceled some flights. In fact, we took a very circuitous route to Paris from NY. We flew underneath Spain and then came back up. I can only assume the cloud was hanging out over the more northern route.

Chapter 6 – Mosques and carpets

Kairouen was the next stop. This city is the fourth holiest place for Islam after Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem. It was the center of Islam for Africa and was founded by invading Muslims. The Great Mosque there lives up to its name. with columns plundered from Carthage and other Roman sites, it has a marvelous series of colonnades around a central courtyard. There are also a multitude of columns in the prayer hall that make it feel a bit like a forest.

The most interesting part about the mosque is it’s construction as a giant cistern. Kairouen is in the middle of nowhere. It was purposefully located there to far enough away from the Byzantine controlled coast and the Berber controlled mountains. But there is no river there or lake. There is a source of water from the aquifer below (and every traditional house actually has its own well in the kitchen). But water, as can be imagined, was scarce and needed to be hoarded. Enter the mosque. The entire courtyard was designed as a rain-catching basin. It slopes gently towards the middle where there is a giant drain. This drain even has intricate notches on it that filter out the dust. Giant cisterns sit underneath the courtyard. Necessity is the mother of invention indeed.

They also brought water in from mountains 25 miles away. They used an aqueduct like system and then collected the water in massive cisterns on the outskirts of town. These pools are huge - 15 feet deep and 300 feet in diameter. While having giant pools of water around is good for drinking, it’s also good for mosquito breeding and they had big malaria problems.

The medina in Kairouen was the most authentic we visited. While there are a few souvenir shops, this is really a local medina used by locals. Walking around there we really felt like we were seeing an actual town in motion as opposed to a Disneyfied version which some other medinas are like. We also stumbled into a lovely experience that wasn’t in any of the guidebooks. They’ve preserved a traditional house that was at least 200 years old and turned it into a museum (people lived in it as recently as 20 years ago). We really got to see like what life used to be like there. The bonus was a lovely terrace where we had tea and ate makhroud (local sweets) where we could look out on the medina.

Kairouen is also well known for its oriental carpets. There were carpet shops on every corner with salesman all asking you to come in. All of the tourist sites are covered by one global ticket that you buy. Clever salesmen come up to you and say, “Come into my shop and look a the mosque from the terrace, it is covered by the ticket” We did go into one (to see the old Governour’s Mansion which is now a carpet shop). It was all such a dance. He showed us around the mansion and explained the history. Then he showed us a woman making a carpet. Of course, she hadn’t been making a carpet and he forced her to start working on one as we entered. Then he said, ”Why don’t you sit and see some of my carpets.” Tea appeared and so did a multitude of carpets. “How much are they?” “For your wife they are free. If you love her, you will buy her one.” They must have rolled out 20 carpets. We said we needed to think about it. Not the answer desired. Surprisingly, he wasn’t as persistent as I expected and we got out relatively easily.

Our only truly negative experience to date (outside of the hissing and children cursing) was as we drove into Kairouen. It wasn’t signed well (nor is much of the country) and we weren’t sure which way was where. As I pulled over and was consulting the map, a man came up on his moped and said in French, “Are you looking for the Medina?” He said he would point us in the right direction and then, “I’ll take you.” This should have been the first clue. People are often nice and will point you and even walk you a portion of the way (I often do that) but this was a bit much. Several twists and turns later it obviously wasn’t feeling right. I stopped and asked someone else the direction and they pointed the other way. The man yelled at them and they reversed themselves. We turned around. I’m sure he was taking us to a carpet shop or his friend’s hotel. He was furious and kept trying to get us to go back. We went back to where we had been (I had seen a police officer there in case of trouble) at which point he spit at our car. I went to the police officer to ask directions and waited patiently while he finished with someone else. He almost completely ignored me and was about to ride off on his motorcycle when I pleaded with him to stop. He was then pretty much useless and rode off. Later in the day, several people were very helpful with directions restoring my faith in the generally good nature of people - at least for a little while


The environment here can be merciless and I saw something I’ve never seen before. There was a horse that had literally dropped dead on the side of the road (in a fenced off farm). It was just lying there on its side clearly expired. Of course I know that animals, like everything die, but there was something so stark about seeing a dead horse just lying there. It was like death was staking out his claim, “I’m always here, never forget it.” What I really want to know is why no one has done something with the poor thing. It seems somehow disrespectful to just leave it there to rot away.

Speaking of dead animals, they have an interesting way of advertising their lamb barbecues here. Every so often you come upon a village that clearly acts as a pit stop on a drive and it is lined with barbecue joints. Men standing over bbq stands in the heat with a lamb carcass dangling upside down next to them. Some of the carcasses were just that, carcasses skinned and ready to be cut into chops etc. Some of the shops also dangle the skinned part - literally the whole skin. It’s like someone let all the air out of a sheep balloon. Many of these shops have live sheep milling about right next to their dead, hanging brethren and the grill. I guess this is the locavore movement at its finest, right?

Chapter 5 – A “Top 5” Travel Day

 

Moving on from Tozeur was a day’s drive and touring our way to Matmata.  Let’s chalk this day up to one of the top 5 I’ve ever experienced.  Let’s emphasize my top 5 and not Rachel’s.  It was right up there with the saga that took us from St. Louis to Palmarin ,Senegal (see past travelogue).  The route was to go from Tozeur, across the biggest Chott, through Douz and out into the top of the Sahara’s and then back across the desert to Matmata.  It was a full day’s trip and meant to be a way to see the country. All told, probably about 180 miles driving on a single road of pavement with one lane in each direction (basically the standard here).

So let’s start off at the beginning.  We left Tozeur with our first stop the “star wars canyon” where several shots were filmed.  Most notably was the ambush seen from Episode IV where the sandpeople take out Luke and the droids and Obi Wan rescues them (“Yup, those are sandpeople alright, but I’ve never seen them out this far.”)  We thought we had missed the turn so we went back to look for it and stopped at the Garde National to ask directions.  The scene was actually filmed in a gorge marked by two marabouts (burial places for holy men). 

I think the guards were surprised that two westerners wanted to go out there (small town and I don’t think many tourists stop to speak with them – tour groups usually go with guides).  They gave us directions, we walked out, and then we went back in to see if we could use the restroom (no McDonald’s here for free bathroom usage).  They showed us to the toilet (which of course needed to be flushed with a bucket of water) and on our way out started asking questions. Of course, they were asking in French.  Now mind you I’ve taken 5 years of French in middle school, high school and college.  According to the University of Pennsylvania, I’m proficient.  I had no idea what they were saying (true of much of what most people are saying here). Now I could try to pass this off on the accent (which is hard), but the reality is that my French just sucks.  Rachel’s is far better, but she was thrown by the fact that the national guard was asking us questions.  In the end, we told them we were only going for 15 minutes to look around, they took down our passport numbers and sent us on our way.  At least that’s what I think I told them.  Don’t let US News know about how poorly Penn’s definition of proficient is for its grads!

So off to the gorge.  It was a beautiful setting in the foothills right before the Chott El Jerid began (salt lake).  I climbed up to one of the marabouts and had a looksie and low and behold there it was.  How many times have I seen Star Wars Episode IV?  I’ve never counted, but I dare say its about 50 (maybe more).  Anyway, the location was a dead giveaway for those of us who grew up on the film.  The only thing missing was Luke’s landspeeder and the droids.  I then walked down and into the gorge.  It was relatively easy going, although I don’t know how they lugged all of that film gear in there let alone a landspeeder.  It was very cool to end up standing there and be part of your boyhood fantasies (I even spied the little grotto where R2D2 was hiding when Obi Wan found him). 

The only problem with this nostalgia tour was the darkening skies.  It had been very windy all morning but I had noticed that more and more clouds were coming in and they were looking more and more menacing.  Now I am the son of an Eagle Scout and while I can’t tie knots except a shoelace, I did learn some things. In the desert, the ground can’t absorb the water so it just washes off.  Now, if you are on high ground, not such a big problem. If you’re standing in a gorge with 200 foot high walls, it could be a big problem.  The water has to go somewhere and gravity helps funnel it through the path of least resistance.  Through something like a big canyon or gorge maybe.  So I didn’t linger too long as I had this vision of me being washed away and worse yet the car, with Rachel in it, was sitting at the mouth of the gorge so she would be washed away too (she can’t drive stick shift).  I kept reminding myself that it was May and it was highly unlikely it would rain . Nevertheless, I was jogging a bit back.  As I got to the entrance, I met a local who had wandered by and asked him if he thought it would rain.  “Inshala,” he said – God willing – and then he laughed like it was a ridiculous prospect.  Five minutes later we’re on the road and it’s raining. Whew!

Not only is it raining but because of the immense flatness of the Chott we can see that it is pouring in some other places south and east of us.  This led to another great experience which is water rushing through the Chott in gullies on the side of the road (remember the flash flood thing?)  The road through the Chott is elevated about 5-8 feet above the salt lake.  It was truly a unique experience to see a little torrent of water flowing in the middle of such a normally arid locale.  Even more amazing was that the water was reddish/pinkish.  I’m not sure what caused that coloration but it added to the entire surreal nature of the event.

 At the same time that it was raining off and on (it wasn’t pouring, mostly drizzle followed by short bursts of slightly more than drizzle – I never put the windshield washers on anything more than intermittent), we could see the Chott still glimmering it’s mirage of a desert oasis off in the distance (Star Wars note – this is where Luke raced his landspeeder when he realized that Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen were done for).  Of course now we could realistically believe that perhaps it wasn’t a mirage – inshala. 

After the chott, we entered our first true desert.  Not just scrub brush, but dunes and sand.  Enter the sandstorm.  Did I mention that as we drove through this inhospitable environment, sandstorm and all, that I passed a guy standing on the side of the road?  He was just standing there casually, in his baseball cap at an intersection in the road. No hand out for hitchhiking. Just standing there as if there wasn’t sand blowing all around him.  That is the picture of calm.

Ok next stop on our top 5 day was the Grand Erg Oriental.  This is the top of the Sahara desert.  Everything that you have pictured about the Sahara – great expanses of enormous dunes 20’ high with rippling sand like its an ocean– this was it.  The real deal – not some cheap naugahide imitation.  It was a humbling and immense experience.  Even driving through it was intimidating.  Sand drifting across the road. No one around except the occasional village or the occasional hitchhiker (see bad karma above).  We even tried to go to one town which required going down a side road or “piste.”  We went about 300 feet, there was sand covering ¾ of the road, I hit reverse and made it back to the main road.

I did walk out about 300 feet into the desert outside of El Faroiua – the last town on the main road.  Stood on top of one of the dunes and looked south into the endless sea of sand.  That was enough for me.  You can overnight in the desert on some treks, but as fun as that sounded, the experience of wind blowing sand in your face makes the reality of if seem far less romantic.  I don’t understand why people live out here.

Lunch brought us our first of two Redrum incidents. For those who have forgotten or don’t know the reference, it is to the movie “The Shining.”  In the movie, Jack Nicholson’s character loses it while caretaking an empty hotel in the mountains over winter.  The little boy becomes possessed and keeps saying “Redrum,” which is murder backwards (it was a mirror thing).

What I realize now as I write this is how sad my cultural expericne is that it all revolves around movies. Alas, I’m a television baby.

Ok – so lunch was at the only restaurant in the only hotel in the last town on the paved road that ends at the edge of the Grand Erg Oriental aka the Sahara desert.  No cars in the parking lot.  No one at reception when we walk in.  finally someone shows and we ask if they’re serving lunch.  A call later and yes they are. We walk through an immense lounge area, easily 80 yards long, and into an equally immense dining hall.  At the very end, the chef and wait staff are eating their lunch of spaghetti (of course, everyone but me likes pasta, it’s a universal thing).   There is no menu.  They are serving what they are serving which is a full three course meal (wiener schnitzel for me and an omelet for the vegetarian).  The waiter didn’t even know what the set courses were they get so few people.  it was all just a bit eerie and fun!

We then drove due east on the main road heading to Matmata.   We left the edge of the Grand Erg and were back to flat scrub brush and very flat. Still desert but more of what you would expect out in the West of the US.  The cool part about this trip was the camels!  Just like in the West, camels are branded and then set out to graze roaming free.   We saw 4 baby camels (calves?) with their mothers. They were horribly cute and their mother so clearly protective of them.  We saw another camel scratching itself on a mille bourne (mile marker on French roads, little stone curved at the top  - like a mini tombstone).  It had an itch, what can I say? I don’t judge.

Coming into the foothills after the plain, we drove on a very windy road. It wasn’t terribly difficult or frightening (this wasn’t like Greece where it was sheer cliffs).  The drop offs were reasonable and there was always good visibility further down the esses in the road to see oncoming traffic.  It was kind of like driving in a BMW commercial. 

The final destination of the day was Matmata home of the troglodyte homes.  I don’t know why they call them troglodytes but the locals use that term too (I would think they would find it offensive).  These homes are like a glimpse into our pre-historic past. Basically the local peoples carved homes into the hills.  .  They have a tunnel into the hill and then they dug a big open pit for a courtyard.  There are caves off the courtyard for sleeping, dining, cooking, etc.  It’s very effective as they are cooler in summer and warmer in winter.  Walking through town is a bit odd as you are often walking over someone’s house. 

Having trouble thinking what these look like.  Ok Star Wars fans, remember Luke’s boyhood home in Episode IV and III – where Aunt Beru and Uncle Own lived?  That’s a troglodyte home.  Now that particular troglodyte home has been converted into a not very comfortable hostel.  But several of the props from the set are still there and it definitely looks like you are on Tatouine at the Skywalker homestead.  “But I was going into Tosche station for some power converters!”

The top 5 travel day ended at our hotel which was a mock troglodyte home.  We could have stayed in a troglodyte room built into the mountain but it’s not for claustrophobics.  This hotel also had an enormous dining hall and while there were a few other guests, it ranked as our second redrum experience.  Especially as you first enter the hotel, there is a lobby that is big enough for the Waldorf but is totally outsized for this hotel.  Fortunately, there was no lipstick on our mirror.

Chapter 4 – Still in the desert

 

Let’s talk about the desert winds. These things are something fierce.  We spent 3.5 days in the desert.  The wind blew almost nonstop and seriously picked up steam on day 2.  It was blowing around 30-40 mph – no joke.  At couple times, I was almost blown over.  One night we tried to watch the sunset from atop a rock outcropping in Toezur and I was literally almost blown over.  The trees out on the edge of the oases (where they are most exposed) literally lean at a 35 degree angle because the winds have shoved them over. 

The  winds had another great effect for us.  As we travelled across the desert from Tozeur we drove through a sandstorm!  It was wild. The wind was blowing basically nonstop and the sand was just streaming across the road.  The car was pretty stable, something I had potentially been concerned about, as I kept to a reasonable speed.  Rachel was a  trooper and hanging in there – ok she feel asleep but that does constitute hanging in there.  I’m pretty sure she was thinking in her mind, “how did the Australian State department rate this a 2?”  (as many of you know, Rachel and I have a longstanding understanding. We can go to the more adventurous places just so long as the Aussies say it’s no more than a 2 on their 5 point risk scale.  This causes no amount of angst as I try to bargain for certain countries and she retorts, “but the Aussies say it’s a  3 – it’s not safe”).

So anyway, we’re out on the desert road, driving through a sandstorm and Rachel’s sleeping.  Did I mention that it was raining too?  Yup, that’s right.  We’re on the edge of the Sahara desert. One of the driest places on earth.  It’s may (i.e., not winter when it might rain).  The sun had been blistering down on us for the past couple of days, but this day, it was raining.  It felt a bit biblical to be honest.  Sandstorm, rain, howling winds – the frogs and locust. Ok there were no frogs or locust but a grasshopper did land on my shirt the night before while we were buying dates.  That must count for some kind of divine intervention.

Ah the dates.  The wonderful dates.  They give meaning and major commerce to these oases towns.  All of the palm trees are date palms and they do many things for the locals (wood, fronds for the roofs, etc)  but primarily they provide dates.  Dates were so valuable in ancient times that you could sell one slave for 150 pounds of dates. Come to think of it, I’m not sure if that actually makes the dates valuable or the slaves cheap.  Nevertheless, dates are the thing here. 

One of the reasons, beyond their general yumminess, is their usefulness in the desert.  They last a long time (up to a year) without any special refrigeration.   They have a significant amount of calories and other essential vitamins.  Apparently, you can live on nothing but dates for several days (like if you were crossing the desert in a camel caravan). And the camels like to munch on the pits.  So to make our desert crossings more authentic (since we had no camel and had air conditioning) we munched on dates.  It was not only delicious and nutritious (they actually constituted lunch a couple of days) but it was fun too.  Munching on dates, spitting pits out the window (don’t worry environmentalists, they biodegrade or camels eat them, or they bloom into trees – we’re doing what nature intended that way – conveying the seed of the tree to be planted elsewhere).  Lots of fun

But I’ve gotten pulled way off track with just a digression on desert winds.   Let’s got back and talk about Tozeur.  Charming desert oasis.  Their palmerie (palm tree forest/farm) is the second largest in Tunisia outside of Douz with over 200K palm trees.  We took a nice stroll through the palmerie which does a wonderful job at shading the sun and making for a comfortable promenade.   It was quite lovely except for two things.  First, there was quite a lot of garbage.  I guess the locals don’t believe in composting let alone collecting garbage in heaps.  Perhaps they’ve taken the spitting date pits out a bit too far and forgetting that plastic bags do not reproduce that way.  Anyway, it was a bit sad.  The other slightly depressing part is that the land is all farmed by sharecroppers.  As is the usual plight of sharecroppers, they are captives of their landlords and are, in essence, indentured servants with not fixed servitude.  Or put it another way – their serfs.  Puts life in perspective. When we think we’ve got it bad, at least we don’t have feudal overlords keeping us down – just republicans!

Tozeur’s old town is probably the smallest, and by far the most charming, of all the medina’s in Tunisia (that we’ve seen at least).  All of the buildings are made with special bricks made from local sand and sun dried and then baked.  They are a yellow color and apparently are very good for insulation (keeps the buildings cool in summer and warm in winter).  The distinctive color and patterns of the bricks certainly made this part of town distinctive.  Many of the houses also are made from palm tree wood which has a unique flair to it as well.  Beyond just strolling the streets, which was fun, we ended up having tea on a rooftop converted into a traditional Berber tent. It wasn’t really a Berber tent, but it was set up that way.  Out on the terrace, they have a tarp and some rugs with pillows surrounded by assorted Berber items (samovars, etc).  It was a delightful experience to sip tea and nosh on local cookies while staring out at the green of the palmerie and the roofs of the old town.

On an excursion from Tozeur we drove out to Chebika – another oasis close to the Algerian border (don’t worry we didn’t go to Algeria – it is definitely not a 2 on the aussie list!)  The drive goes through the desert and across one of the Chotts, or salt lakes, that exist in the Tunisian desert.  The road was as flat as can be with nothing but scrub brush for much of the way.  As the chott came into view, it was the classic desert mirage.  The heat rising off the salt glimmers in the sun and looks like water.  Because of the extreme flatness, our vision loses perspective too, and the scrub brush in the distance looks like palm trees waving.  It creates the illusion of a cool oasis waiting just at the horizon.  Of course, you never reach that oasis as the horizon just extends (or the salt lake ends).  It must be horrifying to be walking out in the desert to be so fooled. The environment is punishing.  We were driving on a day with some cloud cover so it wasn’t as hot as it could be and it was still in the 90’s.  To be out, alone, caravanning through the desert and to be so fooled is a fate not to be wished upon even our worst enemies (see bad karma above).

At the foot of the mountains is Chebika.  It’s a nothing town that had been abandoned except for the fact that it has a spring and waterfall that now draws tourists.  Fortunately, we got there mostly before the tour groups and had the place to ourselves for a while.  The waterfall was small but cooling and the little pool formed by the spring was lush.  There were even little frogs lazing about (ok probably not lazing but it did look that way).   It was an oasis in the truest sense.  A little valley of water from which there was green on each side and that was it – the rest desert.  I took a little swim – mostly for the novelty of dunking oneself in cool fresh water in the middle of the desert.  The view from the foothills out onto the desert and the chott was awe inspiring as well.  Why people would choose to live in the desert is still beyond me.  There are so many other more hospitable places. This does not seem to be a place worth livening in – but I’m sure some people say the same place about NYC.

The desert did take one casualty that day – my digital camera.  Suddenly, it just stopped working (ok we dropped it but only about 3 feet and it wasn’t a harsh fall).  Anyway, it’s quite disappointing and I was left with my camera phone an disposable film cameras (yes they still exist thankfully). Now everything needs to be judged carefully – is this really photo worthy?  Will it come out?  Should I waste a precious resource?  Think Elaine on Seinfeld – sponge worthy?

Chapter 3 – Into the desert

As we drove further west into the more desert like areas, the roads became much sparser and the scenery browner.  The main east/west road is basically a two lane highway (one lane each way) that cuts through dusty, forlorn villages and a few larger towns (by which I mean 1000 people maybe instead of 10).  And people in these villages/towns don’t know how to drive.  At least a dozen times we saw people on mopeds going the wrong way on the street and cars make turns when they feel like it whether or not they have the right of way.  They also like to pass.  But they will pass four cars at once.  This can be a real problem when there’s an oncoming truck and the stupid driver trying to pass four cars needs to get back. Sometimes they can’t get back and they force the oncoming driver (like me) off to the side of the road so that they can keep going.  What’s most surprising is that we’ve yet to see any accidents (unlike Greece where we drove one day on a treacherous mountain road where the drivers were equally crazy but we saw a flipped over car).   Driving does take some nerves here.

As you drive and drive and drive, it’s hard to imagine how people can live so remotely and in such inhospitable lands.  These are not places where you can order in a pizza.  The driving is much more fun than a big highway, though.  When you go 70 on one of these roads, you know you’re going 70!  And the roads do wind a bit and it keeps you more engaged (which is a good thing when your partner is sawing zzz’s next to you and the radio is barking in French and Arabic – speaking of radio, we were getting German radio for a period at one point.  Bizarre)

And then over the horizon, you suddenly see a sight that looks very familiar.  We’re cruising along and we’re not far from our destination (after a 5 hour ride) and I know that I’ve seen this vista before.  That’s right you Star Wars fans, I was looking out over at Mos Eisly spaceport (the same way Obi Wan, Luke and the droids did before meeting Han and Chewie).  Very cool.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t a safe place to stop and we wanted to keep moving.  Looking forward to more Tatouine sightings though!

The other fun thing about driving in the Tunisian desert is the oases.  Brown brown brown GREEN!  I’ve been to oases before, but it is still a treat to see it again.  Tozeur—where we stayed--is a major oasis with something like 200 thousand date palms.  It’s an amazing sea of green in the desert.

The weather here is quite varied.  On the coast, it could get quite cool.  I wouldn’t want to be there in winter.  The breeze is very strong, and it was chilly at night (and even in the day out of the sun).  Go a couple hundred miles inland, and it’s brutally desert hot (also with a wind which makes the heat worse – think hair dryer on a summer day).

Dining notes for those who have followed previous adventures: To the list of exotic things I have eaten (including live termite and fried grasshopper) we can now add camel.  It’s quite yummy actually (and not nearly as exotic).  But here’s the best part.  Camel, a diet staple in parts of the Arab word tastes like...not chicken…not beef... pork!  That’s right.  My camel steak tasted just like a delicious pork chop.  It’s so ironic that it makes me possibly believe in a deity that’s playing with us.

So the people here in Tunisia are overall quite friendly and nice. There’s the usual pushiness of souvenir vendors and the like (the caleche – horse carriage – drivers in Tozeur were probably the worst “It is too far. You cannot walk.”  Yeah, right pal, we’re from NYC, we walk everywhere).  People have helped in providing directions and giving general guidance on an area many times.  The hotel and restaurant staffs are above average in their solicitude.  But the kids on the street are a different story.  At least three times, we were cursed at by kids “what the f*** are you doing here”  “bitch” – all unprovoked and in English (which is even weirder because most tourists speak French).  We even had a couple of young girls hiss at us because we wouldn’t give them money (they weren’t poor, just looking for candy money).  I mean, who hisses?  What are they, channeling their inner cats? 

Anyway, the people are still nice – especially so in the desert where they will stop if you are stopped to make sure you are okay.  This whole desert hospitality thing has caused us some consternation and a bit of bad karma.  There have been several instances when we passed people in the desert, hitchhiking.  Now intellectually we know that it’s very common here and it’s expected that you’ll stop and pick people up.  But these are invariably men and usually younger.  All of our own instincts tell us not to stop – so we don’t.  But we feel very guilty about it, and I’m not sure we’ve done the right thing.  I mean, these people were standing in no man’s land miles and miles from the nearest town (what are they doing out there, anyway?).  But then it’s so hard to get the hitchhiker stories from the US out of my head (I keep thinking of this one story David Sedaris recounts, and it’s horrifying!).