Travel Planning: What to Do – Page 10 – Writing With My Mouth Full

Matmata to the Island of Jerba

We slept some more as Taha and Emin drove us the next morning to Matmata. The roads started to disappear and this is why only 4x4s are allowed in the desert. More camels and rosemary bushes dotted the side of the road. From the top of Matmata, we saw how Mother Nature carved stones and created sand mountains. Matmata is known for its troglodyte homes built underground to provide respite from hot summers and random invasions. Hotel Sidi Driss, five pit courtyards connected by underground tunnels, was where–surprise–Star Wars was shot. Tourists go in and out of the hotel to take photographs and have pushed the locals to the Nouvelle Matmata on the other side of town.

As we were leaving Matmata, we asked Taha about Gabes. He said there is absolutely nothing to see there. (What? He didn’t mention that it was Obi-Wan’s home!) We checked our map and wondered about the island of Jerba jutting out of Gabes. According to legend, Ulysses stopped there in the course of the Odyssey to persuade his crew to get back on board after the natives, or the “lotus-eaters”, gave his men flowering food that made them forget about going back home. How awesome is that tidbit? It is now one of the last places in Tunisia where Muslims and Jews peacefully live side by side. We were definitely intrigued.

Taha turned our SUV around and stopped another car he happened to know was going to Jerba. A young Japanese couple was inside and we introduced ourselves as our drivers talked. Luckily, the Japanese agreed to give us a ride to Jerba. They really had no chance to say no as their driver started loading our backpacks in the back of their car. The ride was quiet, but it became less awkward as soon as the Japanese started talking to us. We found out that they have been with their driver for the last four days and were also fasting with him. Like their driver, they were on their fourth day of Ramadan. It was a noble gesture, something we couldn’t even imagine doing during a vacation, and it surely broke the ice. The driver said, Filipinos? Thumbs down. Japanese? They do Ramadan with me! and gave them a thumbs-up.

About an hour and a half later, we boarded the ferry to Jerba. From Jerba, we entered the town of Ajim and were dropped off at Houmt Souq, the city center. (Note to Jase: Ajim was also Mos Eisley.) In the heat, we carried our packs to Hotel Arischa, an old funduq with a 56-dinar nightly rate. A funduq was an inn where traveling merchants stopped by to rest during the Ottoman period. The gate was big enough to accommodate camels and their load. The first floor was usually a warehouse where the animals’ needs were stocked and the second floors were the sleeping quarters. Each door came with giant locks and barrel bolts. We decided to spend two days to enjoy the town’s souqs, or markets, and the island’s beaches. Hotel Arischa became our favorite accommodation.

Now without a car, we had to hire a cab to take us to the public beach. The beach was disappointingly full of litter, so we ended up walking to the beachfront of the Radisson Hotel where several Europeans were already red from too much sun. It was like entering a music video, with shady tents, a large turquoise pool and staff clad in all white serving cocktails on trays. We paid 30 dinars for a mojito and a caipirinha. Alas, we had to pay New York prices for a little bit of sin in a Muslim country.

Back in town, we walked in and out of the covered souqs to see the potential souvenirs we may be able to take home. Each town has its specialty, but most of the time, sellers offer the same products: clay pots, tagines, shisha pipes and leather poofs. From all the towns we’ve visited so far, we’ve enjoyed the produce markets more than the shops. In Houmt Souq, we watched the fish auction. Men who sat on elevated chairs displayed strings of fish provided to them by their fishermen. Bidders, which include restaurant owners to housewives, shouted out a price to buy the freshest of the fresh. We noticed that one of the auctioneers had a jasmine flower behind his right ear. I later read that if a Tunisian man has a jasmine flower behind his right ear, he is single and is looking for a wife. (Guess where the Dr. put his jasmine?) A man who puts a flower behind his left ear is proud to be taken and married.

We craved seafood after visiting the fish market. Dinner was at Restaurant D’Ille, a recommendation from one of the funduq employees. The sea bass we ordered for 10 dinars was so small, it didn’t look like the sea bass we were familiar with. We just figured that they had a different translation for the real sea bass. We ordered two beers and a half bottle of a very strong rose wine. Together with another plate of lamb and couscous, our meal was a splurge for 56 dinars.

It was hard to explore the rest of the island without a car. It didn’t take us a long time to succumb to the idea of renting another car that we can drive all the way back to Tunis. The next morning after breakfast, we picked up a new rental from Europcar. We drove to the La Seguia beach where we sat by the channel and watched an old man fish all morning. Stupid jet skiers disturbed the peacefulness. We swam for a bit and read and sunbathed.

Then we drove to the south, with a stop at the Cave d’Ali Berber where a guide showed us a typical Berber home, and an underground tunnel where he gets clay for his pottery. I was a tourist, so I was forced to feed a baby camel. We bargained for a cooking tagine for 25 dinars. Later, we found out the same tagine cooker started at 35 in the souqs, but if you start to walk away, the desperate sellers can go as low as 10 dinars. I’m usually good at bargaining, but it was difficult to haggle when you’ve been cornered inside their store and when they block your way out.

We also drove near the water to see the unkept Guellala Mosque. Our next stop was the Jewish synagogue of El-Ghriba, an important place of pilgrimage during Passover. It was bombed in 2002, so visitors now have to go through the X-Ray machines before entering. We took off our shoes and wore head coverings before we walked in to listen to the old men read aloud from the holy book. We also checked out the metal hangings left by devout pilgrims. The sanctuary reportedly has one of the oldest Torrahs.

For the rest of our last day in Jerba, we planned our final week in Tunisia. Dinner was at Restaurant Les Palmiers. For 17 dinars, we ate the usual salade Tunisienne, rice with lamb stew and a grilled dorade. It was a warm, breezy night. We sat outside and joined the men for the night’s mint tea while the mosque next door announced that Allah is great.

Chott el-Jerid to Douz to Ksar Ghilane

After pricing three companies while in Tozeur, we settled with Au Coeur du Desert which charged us 350 dinars for a two-day tour. Our English-speaking guide, Taha, and his brother, Emin, picked us up as soon as we returned our car to Europcar, the rental agency. Taha drove like a maniac, but he was very charismatic. His heavily-accented English was easy enough to understand, but we couldn’t help but think of “sexy-time” every time he talked. He also looked like the restaurateur in The Sopranos, only happier and less desperate. He knew our itinerary well and he talked whenever he had something to show us along the way. The rest of the time, he and Emin spoke and laughed to each other in Arabic while we listened to how animated their conversations were.

Our first stop was Chott el-Jerid, the salt lake where Luke Skywalker contemplated the two moons in the first Star Wars movie. (I am probably the least knowledgeable person concerning Star Wars, but I feel I must add that point so that my friends will be able to relate. When I started telling them that I was going to Tunisia, their response always had something to do with the movie.) We stopped at where the locals have left a boat, a fake camel and a “4-star hotel” straw tent. The lake measures at least 5,000 square kilometers. It stretches to emptiness as the salt shimmers in the heat. Around us were pools of saltwater in red and yellow colors.

About two hours later, and after a brief stop to take photos of some sandstone pyramids along the way, we arrived in Douz. There were restaurants opened for tourists who weren’t participating in Ramadan, but we didn’t want to eat fried chicken nor spaghetti. We separated from Taha and Emin to hide and eat our usual bread-and-canned-fish lunch. Our throats were parched, so we could only imagine how thirsty they were. Even without water for hours, though, they still entertained us until we reached Ksar Ghilane.

We arrived at Campement el Biben in the middle of a very hot afternoon. We were shown where we were to sleep for the night: Bedouin tents. Bedouins are tribes who travel the desert, but today the term is used to refer even to non-Arabs who live simple, nomadic lives. Their tents are made of thick canvas, which almost feels like wool, and are meant to withstand all sorts of weather when used in the desert. Although we had the tent set-up, we were still spoiled by the beds inside and the bathroom with running water at the other side of the camp.

We spent the rest of the day lazing like dogs and swatting off flies, as we tried to sleep or read. It was hotter than being inside an oven. When it was almost sunset, we were rescued by Taha to introduce us to our camels. We knew that the guides had to be home by sundown to finish the day’s fast, so we only signed up for an hour ride around the dunes. Ksar Ghilane is surrounded by the dunes of the Great Eastern Erg, the most alluring desert scenery in Tunisia.

It was our first time on camels. It was a thrill to get on one and hold on while the camel took three steps to stand up. At first, the camel will make you lean back to get its footing on the sand, and then all of a sudden, it will lean forward to position itself to get up. And then, when you think you’re already set, it will lunge forward to actually stand up. I later learned that all camels in Tunisia have only one hump, or the Dromedary type, and that two-humped camels, also known as Bactrians, only exist in the deserts of China and Mongolia.

The novelty of riding a camel actually runs its course after about fifteen minutes. I can’t imagine how those who choose to ride it for days feel. But the scenery of the dunes was exhilarating. The sand is seriously a red-orange color, marked with waves and swirls left by the soft desert breeze. We let our guide and his camels go home and we finished watching the sun set behind the dunes. There was nothing to do, really, but enjoy the moment.

As the clock hit 7:32pm, Taha and Emin reached for their bottles and guzzled water. We all laughed out loud as Taha pointed to the clock and told us he was now free to eat and drink. But, of course, being Tunisian, they still offered us half of the freshly-baked damper bread they received from one of the locals when they ended the day’s fast. This kind of bread is cooked in the ashes of a camp fire in the desert. It’s more dense than the typical bread we’ve been buying in town bakeries, and also taste so much better.

For dinner, the camp’s staff served a plateful of spaghetti and fried chicken under the stars. For extra 4 dinars, we also had our first drink of the local beer. (We had been craving any type of liquor for the past five days, but they were very difficult to come by unless we walked in the nicer hotels and restaurants.) We were thankful that even a Muslim country like Tunisia makes its own beer. After eating, we sat outside our tents and watched the stars. Before the lights were turned off, we entered our tent and looked forward to sleeping a very peaceful nomad-style sleep.

Le Kef to Tozeur via Gafsa

We had a long way to go to Tozeur via Gafsa, so we woke up early to start our drive to Kasserine. The rolling hills switched to empty lots of cacti. As our surroundings started to become flat, more and more locals started to hitch a ride to the nearby towns. We saw an older man in a long purple tunic on the side of the road, trying to wave down cars. I joked to the Dr. that we should pick him up to buy some good karma. To my surprise, he stopped the car on the side of the road. I was squealing before he rolled down the windows on my side! The old man didn’t speak French, but we all understood “Kasserine” and he got on the back seat. It was a quiet and awkward ride for the next fifteen miles because he only spoke Arabic, but he managed a faint “Monsieur” to let us know he wanted to get out as soon as we drove by the city center.

During Ramadan, some stores remain open for business. We found out fresh bread was easy to come by during the day, as well as fruits and drinks. In Gafsa, we stopped by the only open patisserie and ordered four pieces of small, triangle pastries. They were wrapped in phyllo and filled with almonds and pine nuts. They were not serving tea, so the lady refused our payment when we finished. We were simply tourists passing by her town, but we were shown such great hospitality. Picking up the old man wasn’t so bad after all. (When the Dr. bought water from another store, the man tending the place asked him what a guy “like him” was doing in the middle of Gafsa.)

We were on our way toward the desert. The roads started to become drier and dustier. We started to see road signs warning us of camels crossing. We initially thought that they were just a ploy to entertain tourists, but we laughed as soon as we caught our first glimpse of camels far away, just chilling on the side of the highway.

In Tozeur, we drove in circles before we found Residence el-Arich. We checked in our airy and tiled room that looked out to a courtyard filled with palm trees. We missed the sunset from the Belvedere Rocks because we also couldn’t the right turn. The cop stationed outside the zone touristique recognized our car by the time we circled a third time. We made it to Belvedere Rocks as soon as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. The rocks were ugly anyway as the most recent landscaping included a golf course and a playground. The face of Tunisia’s most revered poet, Abdulkacem Chebbi, was cut into the rocks. (My first reaction? “That better not be John Fucking Kennedy!” I have nothing against him, of course, but I didn’t come all the way to Tunisia to see an American’s face etched in sandstone.)

Right outside the souq, or market, of Tozeur, we found Restaurant Paradis where we had a nice dinner of couscous with lamb, a cucumber salad and ragout of green peas, all for 13 dinars. An old man ran the place and he offered to move the table and chairs outside so we can enjoy the nighttime breeze. We ate heartily as we watched the men go in and out of the mosque next door.

On our way home, our favorite cop flagged us to stop. When driving in Tunisia, there are several roundabouts and police inspections on the road. As driving tourists, we have enjoyed the privilege of simply driving slowly past the cop, waving and continuing on without having to go through the inconvenient inspections all locals treat as routine. When we were signaled to stop our car, we got a little bit nervous. The cop walked over to the Dr.’s side and handed us a date. He stopped us to give us a date! He also kept us for the next twenty minutes, excitedly chatting about Tozeur’s palmeraie–where the date came from–and the Dr.’s ability to speak perfect French even though he is “clearly” Japanese.

Inspired by the date, we visited the palmeraie the next morning, Tunisia’s second largest with at least 200,000 trees. It was an amazing sight to see clumps of trees in the middle of the desert. It’s a great example of tiered oasis agriculture where the system is watered by more than two hundred springs that produce more than 60 million liters of water a day. The best way to explore it is on foot, so that one can go through the narrow paths along the irrigation canals, but we had to be packed up by 9am. We were off to the Sahara, where we would be needing all the water we could get.

Tabarka to Bulla Regia to Le Kef

We were awaken by the first call to prayer of the day. A man’s voice echoed through the loud speakers but we still got up later than expected. The staff at Les Mimosas still served us the free breakfast of hard-boiled egg, bread, butter, coffee and orange juice. We checked out, sad that we didn’t get to take advantage of the pool with a view of the city, and visited Les Aiguilles, or the Needles. They are spiny pinnacles of rock that jut out of the Old Harbour Bay, but they were less impressive than we originally thought. We drove towards the zone touristique and chose Malibu Beach to set our beach blanket and enjoy the early afternoon. There were a lot of Czech people there, most of them sunbathing topless while young Tunisians gaped from the beach. The Mediterranean was warm enough to swim for more than an hour straight but cool enough to keep us on our toes. We weren’t keen on staying, though, because the beach was littered with cigarette butts.

Back in town, the first day of Ramadan was pretty obvious. All the restaurants and cafes were closed. Grills all around the port looked lonely and unused. We went to one store that was open and bought what would be our usual Ramadan lunch for the rest of our stay: a loaf of fresh bread, canned fish and Coke. This time, we added some pickled olives and vegetables from the market. We parked our car under a big tree back at Les Mimosas because we knew we can’t just eat in front of those who were more pious than us. Our small homemade lunch was pretty good, and we ate knowing that from sunrise to sundown, the Muslims will refrain from eating or drinking for the next forty days.

We drove past Ain Draham, by the Kroumirie Mountains and rolling hills covered in cork trees. We made a detour to Bulla Regia, a Roman site with underground villas intact. We paid the small fee to enter, plus the extra dinar to carry my camera, and a guide followed us to the site to show us around. The Neolithic tombs around the site proved that the area was inhabited before the Romans arrived. “Regia” was added to the town of Bulla after the Byzantines took over. We felt the sun burning our shoulders, but the temperature dropped as soon as we walked underground. (It was difficult to drink from our water bottles in front of a man who hasn’t had a drop since sunrise.) We walked through the House of Treasure, the House of the Peacock, the House of the Hunt and the House of the Amphitrite, where a mosaic of Venus flanked by two centaurs came alive as soon as our guide doused water over the tiles. The baths, the forum and the amphitheater were all equally amazing.

We left and continued our drive to Le Kef, also called El Kef. It didn’t take too long, but the Dr. was tired. We checked in Hotel-Residence Venus. For 40 dinars, we had our own bathroom again in our room. Our blue shutters opened to the mountains behind the medina. No one seemed to be in the hotel except us, even though our guidebook touted September as the beginning of the high season.

As the first day of Ramadan was wrapping up, we noticed the groups of men hanging outside the cafes. Le Kef was absolutely great for people watching. Hundreds of men sit on plastic chairs lined along the streets with nothing to do but talk and hang out. Not one woman can be found outside. As the afternoon call to prayer signaled the end of the day’s fasting, just like that, the streets emptied out and turned into a ghost town. It was eerie to see no one all of a sudden.

We were thankful for a stranger’s recommendation to eat at Ramzi, the only restaurant lit on rue Hedi Chaker. Without any prompting, we joined the staff in breaking the first day’s fast. We were first served shorba, or hot spicy soup. And then a plate of briq was put on the table. This one was the regular kind with chunky potatoes, but still with the ubiquitous runny egg. Traditionally during Ramadan, a meat or pasta course follows the two kemias, or appetizers. We chose the kamounia, a meat and offal stew seasoned with lots of cumin.

But as fast as they all went inside to eat for the first time in twelve hours, the men all stepped back out to resume to their original positions–this time with hot, green mint tea on hand. Still no women around, so it took balls for us to enter one of the cafes and order the same tea that the men were having. To my surprise and delight, a couple of the older men gave up their seats for me. Fresh mint leaves are stewed in hot water for several hours until they turn the water black. The tea is poured in a small glass from high to create a froth and a lot of sugar is added to make it syrupy. It’s strong and painfully sweet at times, but we found ourselves joining the men after dinner throughout our stay in Tunisia.

Bizerte to Lake Ichkeul to Tabarka

As soon as we drove away from the city, the landscaped changed. Olive trees lined the highway and dry, earthy dust covered the air. We arrived in Bizerte after an hour, parked our car in front of the municipal building and walked to the Old Port.

Bizerte sits on a canal that links the lake to the Mediterranean Sea. Small wooden boats were docked at the port, while the tall fortifications of the kasbah (fort, or citadel) flanked the fishing town. We went inside the market to check out the local goods. There were the usual bananas and grapes, but there were also prickly pears and doughnut peaches. The fish market had only the freshest produce, from the small sardines to the extra large swordfish. The meat market was far more interesting. A cow’s head, with its eyes opened, was hanging; all its innards displayed on the tables. I asked a vendor for permission and he let me take a photo of the head, but wagged his finger at me when I started to take a photo of the stomach lining and the bloody mess on the counter.

Inside the medina (or the old and traditional section of a city), a maze of stone walls guided us from narrow street to narrow street. It was dirty and rundown. We had to step over a few piles of shit. We even saw two dead kittens.

We walked by a restaurant called Marco Polo right outside the medina and noticed an old man grilling fish. It was busy with lunching Tunisian men, and so we immediately knew it was a good place to rest and eat. We sat inside to stay away from the blistering sun. The Dr. was ordered by the owner to buy fresh fish back in the market if we wanted to eat fish. He bought a kilo’s worth of what he thought were sardines. When the owner shook his head, he walked with him back to the market to exchange the fish with the correct type. We waited only a few minutes before we were served two platefuls of the grilled sardines with salad meshouia, a cold plate of roasted vegetables swimming in olive oil. For dessert, we crossed the street and bought mint tea which every Tunisian-Muslim man seemed to drink in lieu of alcohol.

Fortified, we walked back to the municipal building after lunch to find an empty street. Our car was towed! Panicked, we went inside to ask a stranger where and how we can get our car back. We took a cab to the parking lot, paid 30 dinars, and drove away with our rental. It wasn’t as much of a hassle as losing our luggage, but it still freaked us out. Why do we always have to be taught a lesson when we’re traveling? (See speeding ticket in Iceland post.)

It was time to head to our destination for the night, Tabarka. But first, we took a detour to Lake Ichkeul, a World Heritage-listed national park where different species of birds fly by from the Sahara en route across Europe. Apparently, a water buffalo was imported, too. We saw a flock of swallows and heard geese honking, but the only water buffalo we saw was the statue at the park’s entrance, where there was no admission fee, but the guard asked us for a “donation.” (He took out a blank piece of paper when we handed him a couple of dinars and wrote our names down to make us believe that our contribution was going elsewhere besides his lunch allowance.) We did a quick hike around the mountain where the view was so different from the city’s. The marsh was dry and the shallow lake was surrounded by cacti and swarmed with mosquitoes, but it was breezy at the top. We felt immediately better.

The sun started to set, so we left in a hurry and started our drive to Tabarka. The drive from the small town of Sejnane to Tabarka was like being in California. More olive trees surrounded the hills, but figs and eucalyptus also wrapped the valleys with lush greens. It was almost 9pm when we checked in Les Mimosas Hotel. Our bedroom with private bath and a terrace looked down the town center and out to Genoese Castle. It cost us 64 dinars.

After moving our stuff up, we walked to the main street to look for dinner. We found a restaurant with only an Arabic sign. We ate a spicy version of meshouia salad (thank you, hidden Serrano peppers with seeds intact), an overflowing ojja, a stew of tomatoes, chilies and merguez, or sausage, with an egg stirred in before serving, and my first Tunisian briq, a flaky, deep-fried crepe of runny eggs and, curiously, tuna. We also encountered our first harissa, a red chili paste seasoned with garlic and caraway seeds. Harissa is what kimchi is to Koreans–we ended up looking for it every time we sat down for a meal. We also ordered a bowl of hsou, or spicy soup with semolina and capers, but the owner sensed that we were already full and canceled our order.

We went back to our hotel room and enjoyed the night view from our terrace. Tabarka was waiting for us the next day.