Les îles de Kerkennah as seen from space. Source.
Finally …
I hated leaving Tunisia after that first holiday. I hated leaving behind the dry heat, the dust and the brown landscape. I hated flying back to the UK and seeing the English green fields laid out beneath me like a patchwork quilt. I wanted to go back.
I booked another holiday almost immediately. Almost a year to the day since first arriving in Tunisia, I returned. In fact, I returned three times in total. If things hadn’t changed for me at home I might have returned again and again.
Each time I returned I had different adventures and rather than try to recall each holiday separately I thought I would try to describe for you some of the things that have remained clearest in my mind.
I befriended a little old man who walked down the beach every day selling natural sponges. Very few people bought any, I certainly didn’t, and to start with I was put off by his largely toothless grin. His name, I have since found out, was Sheik Mahsour, and he was lovely. One day he found me chatting to a young man that he knew. He didn’t speak any English and not a lot of French but after telling me that any friend of the person I was talking to was a friend of his he proceeded to greet me every day. The usual exchange was “Aslemma. Lebes?” “Lebes.” It works the same way as “Bonjour. Ça va?” “Ça va.” in French. A little chatter would ensue with me understanding very little and him even less but he was very sweet. I found a photo of him not that long ago but it’s not one I can post here because of copyright issues but you can find it here.
There were a couple of occasions when I had the pleasure of sitting out on the beach at night with nothing but the moon and stars lighting up the darkness. I have never seen a more beautiful sky than when I was on Kerkennah. It sparkled and shone and I watched shooting stars streak across the sky. The only sound to be heard was the gentle lapping of the sea on the shore. I can still picture it now.
I had the honour of being taken out for dinner by a local man. He spoke a little English and fluent French so communicating wasn’t difficult. He took me to the Cercina restaurant which was right on the beach. It was an unusual day because he paid. He was only a fisherman and wouldn’t have had a lot of money but he insisted. I don’t remember what we ate, probably fish or chicken simply cooked and then very sweet mint tea afterwards. The thing that stayed with me most was that we talked about religion. He was Muslim, albeit a little lapsed. I am Christian, also lapsed. I wish I could recall exactly what he told me but I do remember that he related to me a beautiful story from the Koran about Mohammed. He wasn’t trying to convert me, if anything he was simply romancing me. I just remember thinking that this lovely story was a bit like the bible stories I learnt at school like The Good Samaritan or the Feeding of the Five Thousand. The same but different – if you know what I mean.
I rode pillion on a motorbike with no helmet on more than one occasion. The bikes on the island were not exactly powerful but I remember holding on to the person in front of me very tightly and not opening my eyes. It did occur to me that my mum would most definitely not approve!
I attended some wedding celebrations in a small town called Melitta, a few miles from the hotel. I wasn’t there for very long but I remember feeling very self-conscious as I was led to sit with the men (who sat separately from the women). My companion didn’t seem too concerned and was very probably doing some showing off but I remember, as the only white person there, attracting a little more attention than I would have liked. I was fascinated though – by everything!
Of all the amazing experiences I had there is one that surpassed everything else. The last time I returned to Tunisia I was determined to pluck up the courage to take advantage of the organised trip to the mainland that the tour operator put on. Because I was holidaying alone I was understandably nervous about venturing somewhere a little less secluded but I realised that I might never have the opportunity again.
The big attraction was the Sahara desert. And the decision to take this overnight trip was one of the best I have ever made!
We left very early one morning, by coach, to catch the ferry to the mainland. From there we drove south down the coast to Gabès. We were given some free time to walk around the souks. This was my first experience of mainland Tunisia and I was quite anxious about walking about alone so I asked an older couple if they would mind if I walked around with them. They were more than happy for me to join them and so we wandered.
In the depths of the souk we were accosted by a young man. After he tried several times to sell us something I told him to go away, in Arabic. This was how I discovered that the fastest way to stop someone trying to sell you something was to speak to them in their own language. He was so surprised that after that his only interest was in finding out more about me. “Français?” I shook my head. “Deutsch?“, “Italiano?“, “Español?“. This continued for sometime until he’d exhausted his repertoire and finally asked, “English?” We didn’t stick around to have a conversation but I got the distinct impression that an English person speaking even one word of Arabic was something quite unusual.
The oasis of Gabès. My photo.
We returned to the coach and drove out of the city to what makes Gabès quite unusual – the seaside oasis. For our tour of the oasis we were driven around in horse-drawn traps. We saw the vast array of fruit and vegetables grown to provide for the city and the irrigation systems, and some middle-aged man offered the couple I was with a few camels in return for me – as they were not my parents all deals were off and we continued on our way.
From Gabès we travelled to Matmata, famous for its “troglodyte” underground dwellings in which some of the Berbers still live. It is perhaps more famous for being Tatooine, the home of Luke Skywalker in the Star Wars films. We visited the home of Fatima Azouz who seems to be something of a tourist attraction herself if the number of photos of her on the internet are anything to go by! The houses are cool and shady, providing welcome relief from the heat which was a steady 45-50°C (113-122°F) while we were there.
Fatima Azouz posing in her “home” in Matmata. My photo.
Inside Fatima’s home. My photo.
Looking down into Fatima’s home from ground level. My photo.
After eating lunch we made our way to Douz, the gateway to the Sahara and our home for the night. Before settling in we were outfitted Berber style and driven out into the desert. I have never felt more ridiculous than I did while wearing that outfit but I would do it again in a heartbeat. We were going to ride into the desert on camels and watch the sunset over the sand dunes.
Douz has very little going for it, or at least it didn’t when I was there, but it has thousands of camels. And the reason for all the camels is because it’s one of the most popular places from which to visit the Sahara desert. There aren’t many opportunities for your average British holidaymaker staying in a 2-star hotel to take a trip into the world’s hottest desert. An organised trip to Douz is probably the only chance they’ll get. There were camels as far as the eye could see. I did wonder if it was going to be worth it.
Me and my camel. My photo.
We were introduced to our camels. Mine was white. Of course, strictly speaking they’re dromedaries as they only have one hump, a fact that became all too obvious when I was eventually called upon to straddle my camel and it stood up. The seat (padding and blankets) was strapped behind its hump and I was convinced, especially when the camel was in the process of standing or sitting, that this seat was the most precarious I had ever sat upon. There’s not a huge amount to hold onto when you’re sat astride a camel and I’m not ashamed to admit that I squealed and screeched and made all manner of horrified noises for the entire journey into the desert and the entire journey back. The man leading my camel just thought I was hilarious!
As we rode up into the sand dunes the sea of camels (well they do call them ships of the desert) gradually dispersed and thinned until all we could see were more dunes, miles and miles of sand dunes. It was one of the most beautiful views I’ve ever seen. We dismounted (to more squeals from me) and settled down in the dunes to watch the sunset over Douz. There was a young man doing some impressive stunts on horseback vying for money but nothing could distract me from the beauty of the Sahara. It’s a memory that will stay with me forever.
Waiting for the sun to set in the Sahara. My photo.
The following day we again had a very early start. The reason for the early morning was to see the sun rise over the Chott El Djerid. Apart from also being a Star Wars filming location it is the largest salt pan of the Sahara. It was largely dry because of the time of year but in winter it is possible to sail across it. After the sand dunes of the previous day the lake seemed impossibly flat.
We moved on to Chebika in the Djebel el Negueb mountains, an offshoot of the Atlas mountains, near to the Algerian border. We did actually see the border from the coach but were advised under no circumstances should we take photos. Chebika is a mountain oasis and it is beautiful. In a pair of unsuitable sandals I followed the man-made watercourse channelling water to the oasis up high into the mountains to see the view of the Chott El Djerid and Algeria. It was stunning.
Looking out over Chebika from the mountains. My photo.
Up in the mountains over Chebika. My photo.
We travelled via stunning views of landscapes used in the filming of The English Patient to a couple of waterfalls where you could hear lots of frogs croaking in the deep pools that formed underneath and then onto another mountain oasis, Tamerza, where we saw a ruined village that had been washed away in a single downpour in the 1960s.
The English Patient landscape. My photo.
The ruins at Tamerza. My photo.
We made it back to Kerkennah later that evening after a very long coach journey from the Algerian border to the Mediterranean coast. It had been a very standard and commonplace tourist trip around some of the sights of Tunisia but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!
I never returned to Tunisia. I exchanged a few letters with a couple of people and gradually got over the heartbreak of leaving the country and people behind me. I’m sure I would have returned if it hadn’t been for me meeting someone at home. My next holiday took me to a 5-star resort in Jamaica – but nowhere else has given me an experience quite like the ones I had in my Tunisian idyll.
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