Monday, April 7, 2008 – TABARKA

Another day, another injury.

I forgot to mention in yesterday’s blog that as we left the airport in Tunis, there was a strong wind blowing and it blew a huge piece of grit into my left eye. On the bus I rubbed my eye to remove the grit and only moved it further up into my eye socket. By the time we got to our hotel I was in agony and went to one of the public washrooms to try to wash it out. It didn’t work. Mom became concerned enough to ask if anyone in the group knew first aid and one of the women, Marilyn, came over and helped me move the grit to a safer place in my eye, where it could pop out naturally.

Today we stopped at a very nice seafood restaurant for lunch. When I tried to adjust my seat, the seat came off the frame, my finger slipped underneath, and the next thing I new a goodly portion of the skin on the top of my finger was hanging off. No one in the tour group had a band aid so I asked the waiter “Avez-vous une plaster?” which I hoped meant “Do you have a band-aid?” Holding up the bleeding appendage helped to reinforce the question.

I was asked to come into another part of the restaurant and wait. It was the bar area and it was filled with drunk local men. One came over and indicated that he wanted to see the injury. When I showed it to him he shrugged and said something in French that I think meant “Stop being such a wussy. Come back and complain when it’s black and about to fall off.”

I did feel like a wussy, so I said to the man behind the bar “C’est cessant” (hopefully, “It has stopped”) and went back to my table. A few minutes later a man arrived with the plaster – in a brand new box, along with a brand new package of sterile pads and iodine. It turns out the owner of the restaurant had driven down to the pharmacy to get everything necessary to fix me up. He carefully cleaned my nasty-looking finger, doused it in iodine, then bandaged it up. Our guide Mohamed accused me to getting injured so I could have the attention of handsome men (aka the restaurant owner).

Okay, so back to the itinerary. Our first stop this morning was Bizerte, a sea side village on the Mediterranean. Mohamed led us on a whirlwind tour of the souk, or market. Apparently there are souks and then there are souks. One is where the locals go to buy fresh fruits, veggies, fish, poultry, etc. and the other is where tourists go to buy local handicrafts and tacky kitschware. The souk that Mohamed took us to was of the first variety. I just loved the huge burlap sacks full of chickpeas, herbs, and spices. I also liked the poultry section, which consisted of a bunch of chickens tied together by the leg, destined for the chopping block. On one butcher’s bench was a goat head, not something we see in North American markets.

Fish for sale in the in the souk:



The olive vendor:


After touring the souk we walked the harbor front. I went crazy taking pictures of the colorful boats, half of which looked like they were abandoned and unfit for use. There were quite a few fishermen returning with the morning’s catch. In one of the buckets was a sting ray, upside down. There were also a smattering of feral cats all begging for scraps from the fishermen.

Fish boats:

Our next stop was the village of Sedjnane, aka storkville. The town was literally overrun with nesting storks. I’m not kidding you. While others were taking photos, Mohamed led a few of us down the street to a café to use the washroom. The facilities consisted of a cracked bowl with no lid and a hose lying on the floor. The floor itself was covered with dirty water. Nice. It reminded me of some of the toilets that I used in Malaysia. It worked, though, so I was happy to do the hike-and-squat.

From there we drove to Tabarka where we stopped for lunch at the seafood restaurant I mentioned earlier. After lunch Mohamed took us for a walk along the oceanfront. At the far end of the crescent beach was a curious collection of rock spires, known as The Needles. I took quite a few pictures because they were so intriguing.

The Needles:

We continued to walk along the next beach. There was a steep hill next to the oceanfront walkway. We were amazed to find the hill covered with goats and sheep. They worked their way down the hill and eventually ended up on the beach below the walkway. Then, the funniest thing happened – they all walked up the steps from the beach to the walkway and commenced to head in the direction of home. An angry shepherd came out from wherever he was sleeping and shooed them back onto the hill above the walkway. He gave us a look as if it were all our fault that his flock was misbehaving.

Goats on the hill:





Goats coming up the path:



We returned to the restaurant and were about to board the bus when it became clear that the two oldest ladies in the group were not present. Mohamed walked back to the oceanfront walkway and retraced part of the route. He came back without them. Obviously concerned, he used his cell phone to call a fellow from town who had a quad bike and asked him to help find the ladies. He headed toward the walkway and returned shortly afterwards. He’d found them and asked them to return to the bus.

When the ladies arrived they explained that they had to find a washroom. They seemed upset with Mohamed, when it was clear that Mohamed had every right to be upset with them. He told the whole group that it was important that people follow his instructions and avoid wandering off to places where they could get hurt. Some people in the tour rolled their eyes, but I totally agree with him – we’re in a foreign country and we’re a target. He’s responsible for us and it’s entirely within his right to request certain things of us.

After the walk – and the search and rescue operation – we drove to the hotel and checked in. The hotel has an Internet café so I’m hoping I’ll be able to upload this post shortly.