Thursday, April 10, 2008 – TOZEUR

We left the Pink Palace this morning at 8:00am. We drove south towards Tozeur. An hour and a bit into the journey our driver Sharif pulled the bus off to the side of the road where there were four (4) Toyota Land Cruisers waiting for us. We climbed in and sped off at speeds in excess of 130km/hr toward the Berber village of Chebika.

On the road to Chebika:



Chebika is an abandoned Berber village which only survives today as a tourist attraction. Still, it provided the opportunity for a wonderful walk through the mountain oasis and then for a sweaty and hot climb into the rocky hilltops above the village. The photos I took don’t do the view justice.

Views from Chebika:









From Chebika we drove to Tamerza. The highlight of Tamerza was the goats roaming all over the road. We pulled aside onto a viewpoint above the town to take photos. Unfortunately we were so far away from the ancient village that it was impossible to get a good shot.

On the road:



Our next stop was another mountain oasis village, Mides, which is located close to the Algerian border. We didn’t stop in the village but instead drove past it to a viewpoint. It was well worth the stop because Mides is located above a river canyon that is nearly 80m deep. The sight was almost spooky, given that we’d driven for nearly an hour across flat, flat desert.

Views from Mides:





Our final stop was the Grand Canyon, which is an oasis that actually has an 8m high waterfall. It was surrounded by the typical array of stalls selling everything from water to carpets. It was possible to walk down a path to the base of the waterfall, which we did. It was really pretty and you could feel the moisture in the air. On the way back up the path a man approached me with some lizards. I said they were nice and the next thing you know he put two on my shoulders. I asked Mom to take my photo. It’s pretty funny – my hair is an absolute mess, topped by lizards. Zexy.

Views from the Grand Canyon:





The Land Cruisers dropped us off at our hotel in Tozeur, the El Mouradi. It’s probably the most modern hotel we’ve stayed in so far. It’s also the first hotel with a decent swimming pool. The others have been small, closed, or dirty. As soon as I saw it I knew I had to go for a swim.

Half of the people on the tour opted to go out tonight for a “traditional Berber dinner”. They had lunch at the hotel and then took the afternoon off. Those of us who opted to stay home tonight went out for lunch in the town. Our driver, Sharif, drove us into town and found a nice restaurant for us. He was supposed to join us after he turned the bus around and parked it. Strangely, he never showed up. We thought that perhaps he’d been too embarrassed to eat with us.

The lunch was terrific. Most of the ladies opted for salads because the dinners here are heavy on meat and light on vegetables. I really wanted to try camel meat, so I ordered Couscous Berber, which is couscous with a skewer of roasted camel. It was delicious and I cut up a few pieces so that everyone could try a piece. They all agreed that it tasted better and was more tender than most of the meats we’ve eaten so far. (For some reason, the hotel chefs are terrifically skilled at overcooking everything. Even the chicken is tough.)

Mohamed showed up near the end of lunch to tell us that Sharif did not return because the bus broke down and he had to fix it. We wanted to take him some food but Mohamed said that the bus was too far away. He told us we had to take a taxi back to town.

Outside, Mohamed started walking up the street with the intent of hailing a cab. I noticed a line of horse-drawn cabs. I asked if anyone else would like to take a horse-drawn cab back to the hotel. Mohamed was unimpressed (it’s more expensive than a cab, and doesn’t have air conditioning) but relented and we climbed into two different cabs.

I took some great movies of the ride back to the hotel. It was one of the highlights for the day, at least from my perspective. I love everything about low-tech, close to the ground travel.

Back at the hotel we discovered that we’d locked ourselves out of our room. When I left I pushed the button in on the door handle, which is what we would do at home to auto-lock the door. Here, it doesn’t just auto-lock the door, it completely immobilizes it. We had to wait several minutes for the staff to wrangle it open with a master key.

Once we gained entrance to our room, Mom did some laundry and I changed into my swimsuit and headed down to the pool. It was absolutely brilliant. Unfortunately, there was a sandstorm blowing in so I kept getting sand in my eyes, nose, and mouth. There’s something completely wrong about swimming in a clear blue pool and eating sand.

I came back to the room after about an hour and did some more laundry. I hung it outside and it was dry within an hour. It was also covered in sand. Heh. So, that’s it for now. We’ll have dinner at the hotel and an early night. Tomorrow we leave for Douz, which is where we ride the camels into the Sahara at sunset. Yay!

Wednesday, April 9, 2008 – GAFSA

Today was one helluva busy day.

We left the hotel at 8am. Our first stop was the Barber’s Mosque, which you would think would have some association with barbers but does not. It got its name because an apostle of Mohamed who is buried at Kairouan carried three hairs from the beard of Mohamed on his journey to spread the word of Islam. Go figure.

Views from the Barber's Mosque:







The mosque was simple but also very beautiful. We were not allowed to go into the mosque but were allowed to enjoy the courtyards outside of the mosque. The architecture was very simple and you could see the rooms in which the mujahedeen (students of Islam) used to stay.

From there we went to the Grand Mosque. We managed to sneak in before hoardes of French arrived. We could look into the prayer room of the mosque, which was absolutely beautiful in its simplicity. Afterwards Mohamed explained the history of Islam and how it spread through North Africa. We had a chance to take pictures and then boarded the bus again, this time bound for the medina.

Views from the Grand Mosque:



Mohamed guided us through the medina and it was nice to have someone there to look over us and to shoo away anyone who wanted to take advantage of our poor confused tourist selves. The highlight was the water wheel, which is powered by a camel.

Views from the medina:





Today the camel walks around in circles to please tourists but in the past the camel played an important role providing water for the people who lived in the city or did business in the medina.

Our next stop was a shop that sold authentic Kairouan carpets. I wasn’t planning to buy a carpet but a kilim caught my eye. I tried to use my credit card to buy it isn’t working for some reason. I had to put the purchase through on another woman’s card and then pay her back in cash.

Making Kairouan carpets:



After the spending spree at the carpet store we drove to Sbeitla, another town that played an important pre-B.C. role in the history of Tunisia. This time it was founded by the Greeks. They thought they’d be safe from the Romans to the north but didn’t realize that they would be in danger from the Arabs to the south. The town was overthrown in one battle with the Arabs, who sacked it and then promptly headed home.

Views from Sbeitla:







After Sbeitla we had a long drive to Gafsa. There isn’t much of note in Gafsa. It’s very desolate. We’re staying in a completely kitschy hotel called the Jagurtha Palace, and it’s every bit as pink and gold as you’d imagine.

Tomorrow we’re heading out on a 4x4 ride to an oasis, then driving to a city further south called Tozeur. More coming soon…

Tuesday, April 8, 2008 – KAIROUAN

Mein Gott, that was a long day. It’s 9:30ish and we’ve been “on the go” since 8:00am.

Our first stop of the day was Ain Draham. We were only supposed to stop there for a toilet break but one of the women on the tour, Donna, convinced Mohamed to stay a while longer so we could all visit a women’s arts cooperative. After much back and forth he relented and he led us up a dirt road to a simple white house and up the steps.

Women working at the loom:



Inside were three women working looms, one of whom had her daughter with her. They were stunned at our arrival – they usually work in isolation – and were both embarrassed and proud that we were there to meet them and see what they had made. Quite a few people in the group bought rugs and other things created by the women, and those of us who did not buy a product gave the women a few dinars for the opportunity to meet them and take their picture.

From there were drove to Bulla Regia, an ancient Roman town. We spent 1.5 hours wandering the site, which rivals anything I’ve seen in Italy or Greece. I took a huge number of photos because everything was so amazing.

Views from Bulla Regia:







We lunched at a restaurant in Le Fez that specializes in wild boar. We were told by Mohamed that we would be served wild boar, but the majority of us agree that we were fed regular old roast beef. It really did not have a pork taste, or even a gamey taste. Plus, it would be very difficult to hunt enough wild boar to feed us all.

From there we drove to Dougga, another Roman site. I thought it was even more impressive than Bulla Regia. You see, Bulla Regia has a lot of mosaics but not a lot of walls. Dougga is a full-on Roman city with an amphitheater, capitol building, temples, baths, suburbs, and even whore houses. It was amazing. You could really visualize life in the city based on the roads and buildings.

Views from Dougga:







The group toilet at Dougga:



From Dougga we drove to our hotel in Kairouan. We were more than an hour late arriving because of our detour in Ain Draham. Unfortunately that meant no chance to swim in the heated pool or visit the hammam. Instead, we went to dinner, showered, and slept.

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.

Sunday, April 6, 2008 – TUNIS

We arrived yesterday after a nearly 24-hour transit from Victoria to Tunis. All of us were travel-weary but a few hardy souls – Mom and I included – went out for a walk prior to dinner. Mom and I made it as far as Le Jardin Zoologique, but decided not to enter the gardens as it was getting dark and we were too tired to appreciate it anyway. One intrepid duo from our tour group did go into the garden and said they got some terrific photos in the wildlife exhibit, but lamented that the animals were housed in such small and very public cages. Everyone in the tour had an early dinner before retreating to our respective rooms for a much-deserved rest.

We were woken at 3am by a fistfight under our window, followed shortly afterward by blaring Arab electro dance music. We all compared notes this morning and the consensus is that the fellows in the fist fight were in the hotel bar earlier, got into a fight that spilled into the street, chased off the losers of the fight, and then went back into the bar to celebrate.

Our tour group met at 8:30 this morning and traveled to Tophed, an ancient necropolis or burial site. The story perpetuated by the Byzantines is that Tophed was a place where the people of Tunis sacrificed first-born boys. However, the more accepted theory is that Tophed was a burial site for children who died very young.

In the past the Tophed necropolis covered a large tract of land, but today it’s a small memorial that barely stretches one city block. Some stelae, or stone tombstones, are arranged in rows for tourists to admire and photograph. The iconography of the stelae is interesting, though. It shows the hierarchy of the gods and people according to the ancient Carthaginians. At the top is the male god Baal. Below is the female god Tnit. People are way down at the bottom and can communicate to Baal only by petitioning Tnit to climb up through the heavens on their behalf.

A stelae:



Our next stop was the Antonine Baths, an ancient but very well preserved Roman bath site. It also happens to be right next to the compound that houses the president of Tunisia, and tourists are told not to take pictures of the compound. One of the ladies in our tour group didn’t hear – or ignored – that warning and took a picture in the general direction of the compound, which caused a guard carrying a machine gun to move close to the group and give us the hairy eyeball. Our tour guide, Mohamed, was very upset.

After a brief telling-off, Mohamed explained how the Roman bath worked. He described the different bath chambers and the system used to heat and cool the water in the baths. After that we were allowed to tour the site on our own – well, not exactly alone, because there was a large group of Romanians touring the baths at the same time and let’s just say that Romanian and North American picture-capturing etiquette is quite different.

Part of the Roman bath:



From the baths we traveled to the WWII American war cemetery, supposedly the only WWI war cemetery in Africa, which I find hard to believe. From there we visited another Roman site, but this time it was the remains of an aquaduct and a huge field of cisterns which was the principal source of water for the citizens of ancient Tunis.

Our last stop before lunch was Sidi bou Said, a picturesque village in the hills above Carthage. Some members of our tour group are quite old and therefore a bit unsteady on their pegs, so Mohamed arranged for us to ride up to the village in a mini train with several mini train cars attached. It was quite hot by then so I think everyone was relieved that we didn’t have to trek up the hill to the village.

View from Sidi bou Said:



A vendor in sidi bou Said:



Mohamed pointed out a traditional house – converted to a museum during the day – that we could tour. Mom went on the tour but I opted out and walked through the village with a couple of other women instead. We took a lot of pictures of the local houses and laneways, fended off the offers of vendors, and soaked up the heat.

We lunched at a restaurant called the Victoire, located alongside a busy roadway in the town of La Goulette. We had a set meal, which started with a Tunisian specialty which is best described as a half-moon of deep-fried phyllo pastry with a semi-cooked egg in the center. The main was spiced rice and turkey in a spicy sauce. The dessert was crème caramel.

After lunch we drove to the Bardo Museum, which houses a collection of Greco-Roman marble statues and colorful mosaics that greatly surpass anything I’ve seen in Greece or Italy. Mohamed told us more than any of us wanted to know about the statuary and mosaics in a compact 1-hour tour. After that we wandered about on our own, completely stunned.

Mom and I found ourselves downstairs and were invited by a museum employee into a small chamber that was jam-packed with statuary. He knew we only spoke a few words of French but nevertheless he tried to explain the importance of each statue. By then it was close to closing so unfortunately we had to leave after the briefest of tours.

From the Bardo Museum we drove to a spot just outside the medina, or old city, of Tunis. Mohamed advised us to leave anything of value on the bus but I opted to take a purse and my small digital camera. As we approached the medina a man stopped us and struck up a conversation. During that conversation he asked where we were staying so I told him the name of the hotel. Shortly afterwards he said he had to leave and said goodbye.

Inside the medina, which is basically a series of old winding alleys lined with tacky shops, there were a few shops open but the majority were closed. We turned around at the first major intersection, but were encouraged to continue by a man who said he recognized us from the hotel where he worked. He offered to take us to the “real” medina. We followed him for three or four small blocks but balked when he encouraged us to turn onto a very twisty alley. We told him we could not continue and turned back.

On the walk back through the alleys he said in French that I should give him 20 dinars at the hotel. I kept asking him why. It finally dawned on me – yes, I’m a trusting sort – that he and the other man we met as we entered the medina were in cahoots. Their scam was to get tourists hopelessly lost in the medina and then charge them an exorbitant amount to find their way out of the medina and back to their hotel.

We knew our way out of the medina – we’d been mentally tracking our progress – and after much begging I gave the man 2 dinars “pour votre temps” which I hope means “for your time” in French. He tried to cadge more money out of the group but couldn’t, and stomped off in a huff.

We left the medina with a deep desire to find a café where we could sit and have a coffee before the bus ride back to the hotel. The first café we passed had the typical café “barker” out front encouraging people to come in for a drink. When we did not respond to his entreaties he yelled “butches! you are all butches!” Now that I think about it, he probably meant “bitches”. We did find a nice patisserie further down the road and had no problem ordering and paying for our drinks. So, please don’t think from the previous two examples that all Tunisians are nasty to tourists.

It’s now 9:00pm and Mom and I are ready for bed. Tomorrow starts early, at 8:00am, when we depart Tunis and start our southern tour of Tunisia.

Until next time...

Well, that's it for my most recent travel adventure.

I'm not sure where I'll travel next, but I'll definitely blog about it here. Until next time...

August 17 36,000FT OVER HUDSON'S BAY

The day after my last entry we flew to Athens. We stayed with my cousin Rita at her house (apartment) on Ippokratous Street in the heart of Athens. I won’t blog much about the visit with Rita because so much of it was just getting reacquainted after 10 years (or longer) and telling tall tales of the family.

Simone, Mom, and Rita at the top of Lykavittos Hill:

On our first night in Athens Rita took us to Lykavittos Hill, the tallest hill in Athens. We took a taxi to the base of the hill and then a furnicular (train) to the top of the hill. When I visited 10 years ago there was a small café that sold coffees and canned sodas. Now half the hill is covered by a massive multi-level restaurant. We took some photos from the top of the hill then found a table at the restaurant.

The restaurant tier where we had dinner:

Rita had fed us a massive lunch so we didn’t have much of an appetite but we didn’t want to lose our table so we ordered a few appetizers and a main and shared them. We enjoyed our meal in the fading daylight and then marveled at the lights of Athens after the sun set. Simone and I both tried to take pictures of the lights but they didn’t turn out very well, unfortunately.

Drinks in the candlelight:

The next day we went to the Acropolis. Rita’s knee is still weak from her fall on Amorgos so she waited for us at a restaurant at the base of the Acropolis. It was a good thing, too, because the Acropolis was crowded with tourists and the walkways were far more treacherous than I remembered.

The tourist hordes at the Acropolis:

Marble columns (do not touch!):

The Erechthion:

Disassembled bits of the Parthenon:

Lykavittos Hill, as seen from the Acropolis:

When we’d had our fill of the Acropolis we met Rtia for lunch and walked to Plaka, an old area of town below the Acropolis. We had a marvelous dinner at a restaurant called the Ydria. Mom and Rita caught a cab home but Simone and I still had some energy so we walked home via Ermou Street, aka shoe heaven.

The next day we caught a cab to Sounio and the Temple of Poseidon. (The Acropolis, the Temple of Poseidon at Sounio, and the Temple of Athina on a neighbouring island form a perfect triangle, apparently.) The temple wasn’t nearly as covered in tourists as the Acropolis and we enjoyed the chance to get up close to the old marble columns. On the way back to Athens we stopped at cousin Stella’s for lunch.

The Temple of Poseidon:

Wind-blown Simone:

Her son, Babice, and daughter, Faye, were there as well as her mother in law (whose name I can’t pronounce). Stella had cooked a feast for lunch, including lasagna, roast beef, rice, potato salad, and more. After nearly busting a gut lunch Stella produced thick slices of chocolate cake for everyone, as well as fruit tarts. After that we all swore of food for 24 hours.

Faye, Babice, and Stella:

Our last day in Athens was very quiet. In the evening we walked down to Kolonaki Square to see if we could find more shoes for Simone to adopt, then went to the Flocafe for ice cream. I’m not a fan of sweets so I ordered a drink that I thought was similar to a bellini. What I got was bright pink crushed ice with watermelon flavor, some unidentifiable alcohol, and heaps of sugar on top. I finished it, but only because of my deep German/Scottish conviction to not waste food or drink of any kind. Simone said she should have taken a picture.

Looking downtown (toward central Athens) from Rita's:

Looking uptown from Rita's:

The flight(s) have gone well. I didn’t get any sleep but that’s not necessarily a bad thing,because by the time we get home from the ferry tonight It’ll be close to 8pm and I’ll surely have no trouble adjusting to the local time after a full night’s sleep in my own bed.

Looking forward to seeing the kitties. They should be home from the “spa” already, and no doubt wondering what the hell is going on. I’m looking forward to “squeezles” and “kisslies” and “petty petties”. Well, that’s it for now.