And so the plane arrived on time next day and there they were again, all saying ‘HOW did you get here?” as if their plane was the only mode of travel – sometimes, when I want to impress them with how easy we make it for them, then I do tell how I made it from a to b to c etc etc and their little eyes open in great wonder. Anyway they all went off to see the great Roman site/sight of Dougga and I went to the hotel with the bags (sometimes life does get as thrilling as this..) – gave me the rest of the day off as they were not back until after 6pm. So I went to the Bardo Museum. Somewhere I have visited many times, just to see the Roman mosaics. They are really staggering. And the great thing is rather than leaving them on the floor, they are mounted on the walls. That way you can just stand back and marvel at them. All Roman life comes to life in front of you, as they often really just show their daily life. People at wells, cooking, gardening – it is all there. Coupled with Libya, Tunisia has the best Roman mosaics in the world.
Then we lectured them and fed and watered them and told them to go to bed, not that they really needed to be told this, as we run them generally ragged. Up with the lark in the morning so I could repossess their bags as they were off to Carthage and the wonderful Bardo Museum to see the mosaics, and I told them they are in for a treat.
This meant I was free to sit in the hotel and have a wonderfully good time being teary eyed at the Queen Mother’s funeral, which of course was a great telly spectacular and if only the people who planned it could now get to work on the railways, then the UK would be a much better place.
Having mopped myself up from that, off I goes to the airport with the bags and find a very efficient handling agent who has actually produced destination bag tags for their next stop. (Catania in Sicily, if you are interested ) – yes Vera you should be able to find that. The two bag truck drivers are still there to make sure all is well and have obviously opened their tip envelopes, so I am suddenly the big hero and receive bristly double cheek kisses from both and expressions of undying gratitude and vire [‘entente cordiale USA/Tunisienne.
And then I jumps on Lufthansa – 2 rather grim hours, as I did not realize I had been given an aisle seat on the very back row of a 737 (merci bien Mademoiselle Tunisair check in agent) and there was a woman with an infant who had the window and I thought she was alone, so yes I would sit there and that way she could have the aisle and we could share the infant, when lo and behold, just as I am about to move, here comes huge husband who gets wedged between us and was, shall we say, somewhat less than fresh… and there was no window either, so I am claustrophobically jammed up against the wall with a large smelly man and a lusty infant ……..oy oy oy… there ortta be a law.. Anyway I survive and whiz through everything in FRA and run across to the Sheraton Hotel and a nice lady gives me a key in exchange for a credit card imprint and I am upstairs and have a quick room senvice hamburger, served by a sweet girl from Lithuania. I always ask when I hear a different accent – I thought she was Polish and she said they all do and I said well next time I think someone is Polish, I shall ask if they are from Lithuania and she thought that was a great idea and went off happy).
And next morning, having survived the elevator full of German Businessmen, all of whom have used a lot of expensive colognes and I feel I am now impregnated with them all). I run back across the bridge in to the terminal and on to the nice big Lufthansa A340 to Addis Ababa with a stop in Cairo (or Kairo as they write and make it sound much more forbidding). I’m using some of my half a million United Airlines miles to move to Business Class and manage to engineer a two seater to myself on the back row, which is my favorite position as it is usually quieter and I can watch them all at work.
More from there…….
timothyvalentinestravels 