Story: One month in Tunisia.
My introduction to Tunisia was through the windshield of my father’s Dodge Dart.
We were at a drive-in, watching Star Wars. From the darkness of space and then the corridors of a pristine spaceship, we found ourselves on a bright desert planet. This was Tattooine, the deserts of Tunisia transformed by movie magic.
Later, in high school, I’d be introduced more formally to the country through the pages of our French textbook Nos Amis. Chapter 21 brought us deep into the souks of a medina where we learned how to bargain in Dinars. The French lessons didn’t quite take, but the desire to visit did.
Nos Amis, chapitre 20: Aziz Slim et son frère Ahmed marchande dans les souks.
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Breakfast at La Chambre Bleue is a spread, the table laden with jam and honey and granola and yogurt.
I write this while listening to the Charlie Brown Christmas album. It’s Christmas Day in Tunisia.
We head back to the car for the drive to Sidi Bou Saïd, where we’ll climb the hill for the views. Bouthine tells me it’s considered the Santorini of Tunisia, and I’m to see why when we arrive.
Bouthine meets me downstairs at 0800. We’re to drive to Dougga to visit the Roman ruins there before continuing on to Kairouan, the fourth-holiest city in Islam after Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem. We’ll overnight there.
Boutheina picks me up in the early and we drive off into town. The sun is barely in the sky and the streets are dim.
At breakfast the owner of the hotel asks me where I’m from. He’s thrilled when I tell him. He’s planning a trip to New York in January and asks me where he might stay. The hotels all seem so expensive.
In the morning I say goodbye to my host. He thanks me for my advice; his son has managed to find a reasonably-priced hotel thanks to my suggestions. I wish him well.
My alarm goes off before the dawn. I pack my bags and carry them with me to the mess tent. It’s dark, the doors are locked. I find a bench, sit down, and wait.
It’s a beautiful morning in Djerba. We haven’t seen or done much on the island, having arrived in the evening. And it’s another early morning start to catch the first ferry.
It’s a quiet morning when I step out into the medina. The door to my apartment is on a small alleyway, but the main street is steps away. From the roof I can look down upon it.
It’s a beautiful morning in Djerba. We haven’t seen or done much on the island, having arrived in the evening. And it’s another early morning start to catch the first ferry.
I take breakfast at the guesthouse, a delicious spread of breads and jams with a hard-boiled egg. A French couple appears as I’m finishing up and I say hello before heading up to my room to finish packing.