Travel Planning: What to Do – Page 9 – Writing With My Mouth Full

Fall Foliage in Cold Spring

My greatest discovery the past couple of years is taking the Metro-North train to get out of the city from the 125th Street Harlem station. I’ve already picked cherries in Dutchess County this past summer and I just came back from a weekend hike in Beacon. During that hike, the leaves were already turning up in the mountains. I wanted to take my parents to see the same view, but on a much less grueling excursion.

The Metro-North’s 4th annual fall foliage trip was touted on subway billboards. I bought tickets for the three of us just in time for the season’s peak. Unfortunately, it rained the entire day, although a lot of people still showed up from three stops: Grand Central, 125th Street and Tarrytown. We all boarded a special train with a tour guide telling us about the towns and sights we were passing by. It was wet and gray outside, but the orange and red leaves were still showing through the haze.

Despite carrying our umbrellas to protect us from the rain, my parents were still good sports. We spent a few hours in the town of Cold Spring going in and out of antique stores and buying produce from the farmers’ market, with only a break to eat pizza for lunch on Chestnut Street. We took photos in the river front’s gazebo, at the park and on the church grounds. My mom was tickled by the 10-cent trolley ride up Main Street.

The rain let up an hour before we had to meet at the train station for our ride back to the city, but we were able to stop by the pumpkin carving event set up by Scenic Hudson, an environmental group focused on the Hudson River Valley. We didn’t carve any of the pumpkins, but it didn’t stop the organizers from giving my dad the discarded seeds and our own giant pumpkin to take home.

Hiking Beacon, New York Without a Car

The three of us met inside the Metro North train after a last-minute plan to get out of the city to welcome the first weekend that felt like autumn had finally arrived. We were in Beacon, New York after a 90-minute ride. A short cab ride brought us to Bob’s convenience store where Tracy picked up our overnight bags. From there, we started the climb up the wooden stairs and then the next four hours to Malouf’s Mountain Sunset Camp.

Malouf’s Mountain Sunset Camp is a hike-in/hike-out campground perfect for city dwellers who long to get out of the concrete jungle and hike the northwestern slopes of the Fishkill Ridge without worrying about the drive, the luggage, and the camp itself. For $70, we reserved what they call a platform site, a tarped balcony-like space sans the walls nestled within the trees. A picnic table with chairs, a tabletop stove and a tent were included. Our mini-kitchen came with pots and pans and a few plates–enough to cook pasta and ramen for dinner and corned beef for breakfast the next day. We had a fire pit we used to serve me my first smores. There is a common building suited with dryers, a few bathroom stalls and hot showers. There are also vending machines for Twix emergencies.

The hike itself was only difficult because we were unfit. It took about four and a half hours to follow the well-marked trails and find our way back when we lost our sense of direction a few times. (We are city people, after all.) The day remained cloudy and somewhat humid, but it was cool enough up in the mountains. At each stop we made, we were rewarded with the view of the Hudson River and the autumnal colors of the east coast.

Cap Bon Peninsula to Carthage to La Marsa

To wrap up our two-week vacation in Tunisia, we just had to drive around the Cap Bon and end up in La Marsa so we could drop off our rental car and catch our flight out of Tunis. From Kairouian, our scenery changed from small town to suburbia. Nabeul is the country’s ceramic center and is increasingly the place tourists go to to escape the beach resort town of neighboring Hammamet.

We drove to the souq and checked in our cheapest accommodation to date, Pension Les Roses, at 15 dinars a night. At that price, or about US$12, there were no extra amenities. In fact, I had to ask for the owner and pay an extra dinar to unlock the bathroom door for me when I wanted to use the shower. I’d like to think that I’m an excellent packer–I finally got to use the just-in-case bed sheet on our bed. We had a balcony that looked out to the souq and the roof of the building next door. The marble columns and tall blue shutters in our room reminded us of the places we stayed in Cuba: family houses frozen in time. But as the tourists left town, the stores closed and it was difficult to look for a place to eat. We tried three recommendations from our guide book before we lucked out at L’Olivier, a German-friendly restaurant. Surprisingly, the mussels and squid were not overcooked, plus the fish stew with couscous was delicious. We ended up splurging for about 40 dinars including a few beers.

We left Nabeul the next day and made a few stops around the peninsula. It was a sunny and gorgeous day and driving the winding roads reminded us of wine country and the Pacific Coast. Kerkouane’s main tourist attraction is its Punic settlement ruins. Because the town was set on the coast, forts and towers were built to protect it from attacks. Excavations of kilns have also revealed it as a town of craftsmen and merchants. From the color of the water next to the ancient site, we imagined it was a very pleasant place to live.

The coastal caves of El-Haouaria were off-limits when we arrived. There was a small sign warning visitors of falling rocks, so all of us who tried to get a closer look of the yellow sandstones ended up walking around La Daurade Restaurant’s backyard instead.

When we thought nothing could be more beautiful than the view of the Mediterranean from El-Haouaria, we discovered the hot spring town of Korbous. The road was hugged by steep cliffs and narrow ravines and the sea stretched as far as our eyes could see. We wanted to stay here for the night as soon as we saw the small houses atop the coastal cliff-face and asked a guy at the Thermales et Touristiques to show us a room. It was a ghost town, but apparently, Tunis’ locals vacation here because of its hot springs and water treatments. The room we saw looked out to the blue, blue sea, but alas, it was unkempt and dirty because it wasn’t the high season. We were sad not to stay.

Carthage, the home of military hero Hannibal, was the setting of Dido and Aeneas’ romance in Virgil’s Aeneid. It was considered one of the greatest cities of the ancient world, and thus, also World-Heritage listed. Although its remains and sites are scattered about–you can’t tell its history right off the bat with the BMWs and the 250-euro nightly rate at Villa-Didon–its epic past is still impressive. What gave me the chills, however, was not the amphitheater ruins, nor the Carthage Museum on Byrsa Hill, but the manicured lawn of the American WWII cemetery on rue Roosevelt. There are 2,840 graves honoring the soldiers who died during the war and a Wall of Remembrance is devoted to the 3,724 others who were never found. It was so peaceful in there that we felt like we were trespassing. It was a humbling experience to be reminded of the horrors of war.

We ended up in La Marsa for the night at the American-owned Hotel Plaza Corniche. We met the older man who owned the place. We ended up chatting with him and his business partner after we found out we were all New Yorkers. The restaurant was next to the hotel pool and dinnertime was obviously its busiest. We were surrounded by big groups dining loudly and by young female locals out on a date with older male foreigners. Plaza Corniche was definitely the place to be in these parts. Kitschy as their decoration may be–there is a neon palm tree, Chinese lanterns and statues of butlers–we enjoyed our stay there because it allowed us to wind down and get ready for our flight back to the States. It was only too bad that they didn’t allow us to eat the wine and cheese we bought from the grocery store in the town center. We wanted to sit and eat by the pool before dinner time our last night, but the receptionist told us that we had to go back to our room if we wanted to eat something we didn’t buy from their restaurant. Because of that, we stepped out for dinner and refused to spend another dime there. I suppose it was just like being in New York City.

It was time to fly home. Bi-salama, Tunisia, and bari kelorfik.

El Jem to Monastir to Kairouian

From Mahdia, English John, the Dr. and I jumped in the car to catch the sunset at El Jem, Tunisia’s most impressive Roman monument. It would have been more impressive, of course, if we actually made it inside. We arrived in El Jem just a little before 6pm after a 45-minute drive. When we walked to the gate, the guard told us El Jem closed earlier because of Ramadan. The sign said closing time is at 7pm. We begged and pleaded for him to let us in, even for just fifteen minutes, so we can take photographs from inside, but he shook his head and pretended he didn’t understand French. Funnily enough, he spoke enough French to ask us for 10 dinars each.

We refused to give him a bribe to let us in. We walked away from the gate, cursed him so that he doesn’t get to enjoy the forty virgins in paradise and just walked around what was once the crowning glory of ancient Thysdrus, a town that enjoyed prosperity in the first few centuries.

El Jem is amazingly intact. It is is also a World Heritage-listed monument and is considered the third largest colosseum in the Roman world. Emperor Gordian reportedly committed suicide inside when a rebellion against Maximus was becoming obviously doomed. It was a bummer not to watch the sun set from inside, but like the Dr. said, C’est la vie.

The next day, we left English John and Mahdia and started our drive back to Tunis. We made a quick stop at Monastir to pay our respects to Habib Bourguiba, the man responsible for Tunisia’s independence from France. In 1934, Sorbonne-educated Bourguiba led a movement to break away from the ruling Destour Party. On April 9, 1938, the French killed a lot of its supporters demonstrating in Tunis. Bourguiba was arrested and sent to exile to France. Years later, he was able to bring international attention to Tunisia. By 1954, the French announced negotiations for Tunisian autonomy, and when an agreement was reached a year later, Bourguiba returned home a hero. The country was granted independence on March 20, 1956 with Bourguiba as prime minister. When it became a republic, he was declared its first president until President Ben Ali toppled his government in November 7, 1987. Today, every Tunisian town has an Avenue Bourguiba and an Avenue 7 Novembre. The mausoleum itself is reached via a long, paved walkway with green and gold arches and a marble courtyard.

Monastir’s star attraction, though, is its ribat, or defensive fortress. It’s Tunisia’s finest example of Islamic architecture, with its labyrinthine passageways and staircases. Unfortunately, it is also promoted by the tourism board as the film set for Monty Python’s Life of Brian, including the scene where Tunisian extras laugh at Biggus Dickus.

From Monastir, we went back inland to visit the fourth holiest city of Islam, Kairouian. We were told that seven visits to Kairouan equals one visit to Mecca. Since it’s an important pilgrimage destination and North Africa’s holiest Islamic site, it’s also World Heritage-listed. Non-Muslims are only allowed through one of the nine gates of the Great Mosque. We arrived there at 2pm and missed the opening hours, so we followed a young kid who took us to the roof of the carpet shop a few doors down to see the view of the domes. This privilege required us to browse through the store’s carpets and uncomfortably say no to all of them.

We also followed the boy to Bir Barouta, a well whose waters is supposedly connected to the well of Zem-Zem in Mecca. Drinking the water from its well is an important moment for those who believe that. The water didn’t make me sick, even though we’ve read that you have to drink at your own risk. The scene inside, though, is a little bit more staged–a camel with colorful scarves hanging on its side, walks around the well to turn the wheel that draws the water. We left a couple of dinars for the man who ordered the camel to start moving in Arabic.

Feeling like we’ve given enough dinars to Kairouian’s locals, we returned to our car and left for the Tunisian north cape.

Sfax to Mahdia

We said good-bye to Houmt Souq, Jerba, and drove a long way up the east coast to Sfax. On our map, Sfax and Sousse were the two locations besides Tunis that looked like busy cities because of several roads connecting them with surrounding towns. We vowed to skip the tourist traps when we first looked at our road map, but since there was no way back up to the capital without avoiding at least one of them, we chose Sfax. In our guide book, it described Sfax as bypassed by packaged tours and the place to see what most people say is the best medina in the country.

We parked our car and walked through Bab Jebli, one of the original Aghlabid gates, an Arab Muslim dynasty. We bought some fruits to eat since no restaurant inside the medina was to open until sundown. We went inside the fish market where the action was in full swing even in the middle of the afternoon. We also walked through Souq des Etoffes where the Cairo market scenes from The English Patient were filmed. We shot one of our best videos while in there, but it was hard for me to point and shoot with my digital camera without being stared at by the locals.

The medina was a chaotic mess. Even so, we knew that they are laid out according to strict Islamic principles. We appreciated that the narrow streets kept the sun’s rays at bay, and that the stones cooled the afternoon air. We seemed to have walked for almost an hour before we found Hotel Enasser right smack in the middle of the busy market. No one we asked wanted to help us out. Some of them didn’t speak French and they waved us away or just turned their backs on us whenever we asked. By the time we checked in and paid for our 25-dinar room, we were exhausted.

When we made it back to our car, I asked the Dr. sheepishly, Can you keep driving or do you think we should stay? He agreed that we should leave for a more quiet town before it gets dark. We went back to the hotel and painfully tried to get our money back from the receptionist. I watched as he argued with the Dr. in French about how we just broke his heart by changing our minds about the town he grew up in. Yada, yada. We probably didn’t give Sfax a chance, but our first impression was that it was like Manila: polluted, crowded and noisy. We just weren’t in the mood for too many sensations at once.

So we left and kept driving up to the next town of Mahdia. It is situated along the Mediterranean and described as a small fishing village, “the sort of place to spend a few days resting from the rigours of life on the road.” That sounded good enough to us after our Sfax experience. In Mahdia, we drove on a narrow street along the water–we knew we’ve come to the right place. We parked and hauled our packs through Place du Caire and checked in a rooftop room in Hotel Medina for 15 dinars.

Sitting in the rooftop terrace as the afternoon breeze gave movement to the drying blankets was like arriving in a quiet beach after an assaulting day of getting there. We met our roof-mate, English John, who was traveling sans girlfriend. The three of us ended up having dinner together by the fishing port at Restaurant de la Medina and hunting for beer at Le Lido right after. It was weird to be talking to someone in English–I certainly felt like it was the first time I had a real conversation with anyone besides the Dr.! All this time, it had been the Dr. doing the talking in French, so English John’s company was definitely comforting.

The next day, the Dr. and I explored the coast. We walked to the fragments of the original Fatimid walls along the shoreline, through the Muslim cemetery and the Punic necropolis. We didn’t go inside Borj el-Kebir, a large fortress situated on the highest point of the peninsula, but we did end up all the way to Cap D’Afrique where the local kids jumped off sharp rocks to swim.

After spending some time on the beach and before we set off snorkeling with Subway, one of the only two water activity companies in Mahdia, we visited the markets. We were inspired enough with the excellent produce we saw that we actually planned a home-cooked meal. The spices were much cheaper than in the souqs we’ve visited, the vegetables more colorful and the meats–the meats!–were more alive! I was like a kid on Christmas day.

That night with English John, the Dr.’s four-spiced medium-rare lamb chops with fried mullets were on the menu with my watermelon tomato salad and pickled cucumber appetizer. English John walked to the same bar from the night before and provided the booze as his contribution to our night’s elaborate meal. We used our hands to eat and finished every morsel. Hands down, it was the best meal we had in Tunisia in what became our favorite place in the country.