Hoo boy! These final Tunisia days were in June, and I’m only now posting in September. Feels like that’s a record for me. This task suddenly became overwhelming. How to sum up this trip, etc? And then, the longer I delayed, the bigger I was building it up in my mind. Dumb. Also, the delay meant there were a few small trips in between I was delaying posting until I wrote this one. Which caused an even bigger blockage. *Sad face* so I’m just gonna do it. Finally. Hooray. I’ve never worried about cohesion or a beautiful through-line or summation. Not sure why I was getting hung up on that this time. Here goes.
In the morning, we pack into our van to drive back to Tunis. There’s a police van out front. Yassine says this is our escort. We thought he was joking. Nope. So our van is following them. Yassine says it may be faster than the expected 3 hr travel time because of this. The extra safety protocols sometimes happen as we’re close to border with Algeria. Escort vehicles swap out occasionally. As we reach a new designated village, police van pulls over and is replaced by a police jeep from the next few villages over. This 2nd is a Toyota jeep that is driving very slowly!! Yassine laughs, says “Must be a Retired Policeman.” It’s downright leisurely. So much for making faster travel time. Our driver notices the van has a misaligned tire so probably can’t go any faster. Our 3rd jeep turns on his lights and sirens and we are flying down the highway, passing all the vehicles. Even Arthur put on his seatbelt!! Eventually our chain of escorts ends and we’re driving along solo. Yassine gets phone call and has conversation in Arabic (not uncommon). But suddenly our van does a u turn. We drive back ten minutes, take a side road, connect with a different soldier/police jeep…more conversation and we’re driving down an interior poorly-maintained farming road (rather than the main 2-lane highway we’d been on). Arthur asking worried questions. Yassine saying “it is a shortcut.” Sure, that’s why, Michael and I give each other a knowing look. He observes, “Even Al Quaidia can’t be bothered with this road.” *Laughs* Arthur is more concerned than I’d have expected, with the presence of security and changing routes in real time. We are driving in a van with giant “Tourisme” painted on the side (which has allowed us to breeze through most security checkpoints for our previous 10 days). Sure, it’s a bit of an unsettling reminder, but definitely prefer this to becoming a news story. As does our tour guide. I just wonder at Arthur’s discomfort. I know he’d done some research beforehand (he even went so far as to map our route online to make sure we weren’t getting too close to Algeria or Libya borders. Later Yassine says that they always have an escort here when driving along Alrgerian border, whenever it is the UK or USA tour groups. “The Italians, they do not care.” Ha.
Then off to the HUGE Roman site of Dugga.
The Roman Theatre was gorgeously preserved.
Had excellent acoustics!
Got to perform a few lines to the empty seats (and the two middle school girls peeping around and following us. Their dad was the front gate security guard. And it’s finals week, so kids have no school in the afternoons. Super cute. They eventually came up to us to chat, but younger sister immediately got spooked and ran away, abandoning the other!!! The older one practiced her English a little bit and then got too shy. But they still follow us for a bit, peeking out from behind different stone walls and giggling. We were some of the only people there). Very hot. But very cool.
Sooooo much to see.
getting to explore some of the tunnels was a welcome respite from the mid-day Sun! (And cool to explore tunnels too, of course)
Courtney befriended more cats, of course.
The public latrines area was particularly lovely.
At a different toilet building, Yassine encouraged us all to seat ourselves and look at our phones. Hilarious. Arthur felt (rightly) that this was too undignified and so he wandered off to pretend he didn’t know us. Ha.
Had a lunch of wild boar at an area hotel. They spelled Dugga “Thugga” which had Michael asking me to do a Thug Life style pic with him.
Turns out, when I try to look Hard, I instead just look slightly worried. Seems accurate, actually.
Afternoon stop in a town for exploration. I saw this “Cheese Testour” sign and thought I’d found my new dream job.
Turns out Testour isn’t French for “Tester,” though. It’s actually the name of the town. Ha.
It was founded centuries ago by Jewish and Muslim refugees from Spain, who had fled the Inquisition.
The old town is gorgeous to explore, and there is a fantastic 400 yr old Mosque whose tower is a lovely testament to religious tolerance and shared community, incorporating Stars of David in their designs.
Very cool.
Have I already shared anecdotes about these giant white storks building giant nests atop telephone poles?
It was nesting season, so we got to see lots of them on our drives around the country.
The Government has installed metal baskets/platforms to assist in their nest stability in lots of places, too. Yassine told us that in Tunisia they call the storks Haj, because the pilgrim caravans would see them going from Algeria to Tunisia to Egypt and beyond. And they also wear white, as the pilgrims do.
Then back to Tunis, checked into our hotel, and off to our final dinner. Driving at night, through downtown. Me, looking out the window. “Woah. What kind of dog is that? It’s huge!!” as I see someone with animal on a leash. But as we drive closer, “That’s not a dog, Tracy. That’s a sheep!!” Bwahahahaha. I was mocked endlessly for this. In my defense, I only saw 4 very tall legs and rump of the animal. Once we passed it and I could see the whole body and head, I saw it was a sheep. Also, Tunis is a large metropolitan city, so I def wasn’t expecting farm animals, being walked on a leash!! Would’ve been an unusually huge canine though.
Final dinner has a stunning rooftop view of the City, as we get to watch the twilight sky, reminisce, and share some truly delicious food and conversation.
Gonna miss all these folks. They’re flying home immediately, but Courtney and I have one full day left (before a 3am departure for the airport. Ugh).
Our final morning. Unfortunately Courtney isn’t feeling well. But encourages me to still go explore, while she lies in bed with her upset tummy. So I head off alone to the La Marsa, seaside beach in Carthage. A bit nervous, but also really looking forward to finally dipping my toes in the Mediterranean.
Weather is gorgeous.
After exploring some of the shops (in which someone asked me if I was Dutch. Second time that happened to me. Still pleased about it, compared to the earlier shade of “British? No, they are American” last week. Yay for being taller and blonder. Sarah was often asked if she was Dutch, being 6′ tall and not overweight, but this was only my 2nd time *smile*), it is now beach time. I take off my shoes, roll up my pants, and just wander in the small waves.
Glorious.
So fun watching all the different families playing at the beach. Water and sand is pleasantly warm. (I am careful, as ever, to reapply my sunscreen hourly. Even removing my white linen shirt so I can spray my shoulders before putting shirt back on. But somehow I Didn’t THINK ABOUT PUTTING SUNSCREEN ON TOPS OF MY FEET!! So that evening I discovered sunburned feets, like I’d never been on vacation before. Ugh. Total rookie move. Just didn’t consider about walking 6 miles with that patch of my poor pale skin exposed to Mediterranean sun)
Rented a beach umbrella and chair by the water.
Wrote some postcards. Read my book. Watched teenagers frolick and flirt. Watched parents warily hover over wobbly toddlers in giant Sun hats.
Boys riding horses on the beach. Girls and boys playing soccer and with balls in the waves. Teens doing handstands and trying to impress others. Little kids squealing. Parents joining in the fun and/or looking exhausted. Seniors giggling as a wave splashes them. All the best parts of being at the beach. Lovely.
Teaching Bitches How to Win graffiti made me laugh.
Found a great rooftop restaurant, with a nice non alcoholic beer selection.
Lovely sunset. Fancy Gelato.
Finding my own taxi for the ride home (I’d arranged with my earlier taxi driver for a specific pickup time and location, because “everybody’s got a cousin that can help you” when you’re in a tourist area. But after not seeing that specific taxi number for 15 minutes, I called to find out he was stuck in traffic and not gonna make it. So time for Bravest Girl in the World redux. Gotta just take random taxi solo, in a different language. Raised hand at first red light taxi I see (because in Tunisia red light on top of taxi means it is available. Green light means it has riders already). Now, did he cut off two cars and almost cause an accident coming over to pick me up? Yes. Did I forget to look at taxi number and send it to Courtney? Also yes. Is it Friday night and everyone is driving like lunatics and there are no working seatbelts? But of course. But the driver is very nice. We spoke a little Arabic and a little French. And then I’m mostly praying. And enjoying the huge number of wedding cars with hazards and decorations on, also driving and speeding through traffic as part of their celebrations. Speeding down highway. I make it back to hotel safely! El hamdi lulah.
That 3am call time to leave hotel for airport is brutal!! But we make it. And eventually once on the plane a few hours later, we get to see the sunrise.
There’s a moment during our return home travels when I think we are going Full Hobbit!! Breakfast served 5:30am departure from Tunis. And now again for 10:10am departure from Paris. Second Breakfast. But then, Nevermind. Sleep-deprived French fail!! Second meal was lunch “dejeuner” not “petit dejeuner” which is breakfast. The one hour transfer time (with required security line/re-check) at Charles de Gaulle airport remains stressful, but we make it. Then many hours to just relax on the airplane. Eventually greeted by gorgeous views of Puget Sound as we arrive back home.
