Have you been to the Seychelles? Part 3. My return to Tunisia, where I had lived some 33 years before.

When I last left you, I had arrived in Tunisia – very much he coming home feel pour moi, as some of u may not know that It was my home in 1967 and 68 (and some of you were not even born then, which makes me feel slightly fossilized…). I came down on the v full and quite efficient Air France from Paris, with the usual selection of robust infants, but this is only a couple of hours, so I can survive. A man was sent to collect me, of similar vintage and quite amazed to hear that I had been there before and could identify landmarks, but not however the brand new huge French Carrefour hypemiarche, that apparently is putting all the small morn and pop traders out of business – we agreed it was sad but that is what the world is coming to etc etc. Sucking on teeth is such an international reaction.

Meanwhile, some 3 miles from the center of the city of Tunis, there are still flocks of goats and sheep and men plowing behind an ox, and others trotting along on the haunches of donkeys. Remember the innocent pleasures of donkey rides on the beach ?? – well we sat all wrong, as the middle of the back is just bouncy, whereas if you sit as far back as you can without actually sliding down its backside, then you will get a better ride. Just one of those useful/useless tips from foreign travels. But the biggest change is in the women, who are no longer all wearing the all-embracing white safsari and now you almost have to search for a woman, evidently an older one, draped in what looks like several yards of grubby white cotton muslin, the ends of which are grasped in her mouth.  

At the hotel there are messages to call our new agent so I dutifully do and he sounds v cheerful and speaks fluent English, which practically everyone in the hotel or tourism biz down here, plus German, who for years have been their biggest market. We agree to meet in the morning and start the process, so I falls in to bed and that is it.  

Morgen (sorry I’m writing this on LH and it is required to speak some German here…), he arrives and we hit it off very well. Tall for a Tunisian at over 6 ft, he had lived 9 years in Japan and consequently has now cornered the whole Japanese market here, as of course they like the idea they can phone from TYO and find someone to talk to – only prob is that they forget the time difference and call him in the middle of the night. He said he had never met a new client from a far-off land who greeted him and said a bit more in real Tunisian Arabic and out of range of any other ears, I practised my one remaining REALLY bad word and he nearly hit the floor laughing. I was established as one of us.

We get on so well that I am invited home to the equivalent of Sunday lunch and to meet the in-laws and various others, so after working on our program, we jump into the old Mercedes and a few minutes later I am shaking hands with various males and smiling at various females and trying out my now not quite so rusty Tunisian Arabic and it is a great ice breaker and I am obviously regarded as a semi, all around good bloke and installed at the oil cloth covered table for a real home made couscous and salade tunisienne and tagine (eat yr heart out Liz…but just to cheer you up, NO Gateau Nationale, which is what we used to call any Tunisian fancy desert, a cake covered in an icing of a garishness that would only probably be equaled in Vietnam or India) and in we tuck.  Nothing better than sitting at home with friendly locals and enjoying their every day food.  I see enough of fancy hotel buffets etc, so the oilcloth covered table is wonderfully  better.

The matriarch serves me and I think would probably have fed me had I asked. She looked v sweet and had the most huge soulful deep dark brown eyes and if she ever cried then I should think more than buckets would be needed. Various small children were paraded and encouraged to practice their English, but of course were struck dumb in terror at having a forang within the walls of the house, despite my efforts to look non-threatening and asking after their well being in Arabic (thus I spose the mindset being if he speaks bad Arabic, why do I have to make a fool of myself in English ?).

Only thing that gave me a hard time was the sort of milk/whey drink that was much used – kinda thin blue milk with blobs of almost butter on the top – didn’t taste nasty but just looked something like the cow had brought up – shut yr eyes and drink was the motto. It came in endless jugs and was obviously as much part of the meal as the food itself, so drink up and do have more…. Never realized that at home the Tunisians eat with spoon and fork (like the Thai) and you pulled the meat apart with them.  It is impossible to work out who the family members were, as there was no attempt at formal introductions. The women were v much on their own and afterwards, having had a mint tea and bikkie with the boys, we continued on our way, without even yelling goodbyes to the women in another room. They must think our social habits are v peculiar.

As there are now some newer and better hotels in Tunis that we should replace our current one with, we went on the obligatory tours of a couple, one of which I liked v much and which will probably be receiving us in November. Good to see that the Tunisian routine of the locals going out and sitting in hotels on Sundays is still practiced. When I lived in Hammamet, you just knew when it was Sunday as suddenly the hotels filled up with the posh (and often not-so) from Tunis who drove down for the day, just as a Londoner would go to Brighton or a New Yorker to Coney Island. 

Big difference was that the Brits went walkies on the shingle and had a nice cuppa, and looked forward to going back home again, whereas the Tunisians had had enough of sand and sun and instead lolled around in the hotel lobbies drinking endless cups of coffee and mint tea and stayed much later, small kids asleep on the floor.

More to come …