Located between Algeria and Libya, Tunisia doesn't sound like it should be a friendly, peaceful country. But we had decided on a brief beach getaway, and discovered it was a popular destination for the French for a few reasons - 1) It's only a 2 hour flight. 2) It's a tropical climate. 3) They speak French.Before this trip, my mind's image of Africa was indigenous bushmen, rainforests and jungles, elephants and tigers. In Tunisia, we would find none of these things. But perhaps we would discover something even better.
Approximately 98 percent of Tunisia's population is devout Muslims. Their native language is Arabic, but the business language is French, having only been liberated from France a few decades ago. We arrived at the end of Ramadan, a monthlong religious fasting which is one of the five pillars of Islam.
When we first stepped out of the airport, the palm trees and sunshine conjured up my mind's images of any warm place - Florida, Mexico, California. We walked over to the 'official' taxi stand after dodging several shady characters offering us a ride. Since there were two rival companies at the stand, members from each immediately swarmed around Geoff trying to grab his bags and arguing with each other over this clearly prized customer. Such staunch competition could only mean we were about to get a great deal or a terrible one. Maybe you can already guess what was in store for us?
The police broke up the argument, and we got in one of the cabs. We had read in Lonely Planet that you should agree on the price before getting into the taxi. Of course, the driver had already sped off with us in tow when we were informed that the price was 20 dinars. The book had said 10 - so I argued the price. He turned on the meter which I suppose was a start. Although we had no way of knowing he would take the most direct route. Anyway, it was fun to debate in French. He also told us all about Ramadan and the customs of locals. I found it especially amusing that even though he was ripping us off, it really was in the friendliest way possible. Once we arrived at the hotel the meter said 17 but Geoff still gave him 20. Leave it to Geoff to reward someone for swindling us.
We were welcomed at the hotel with a sweet fruit juice - perhaps mango? The main lobby of the Corinthia Khamsa in Gammarth was a room with soaring ceilings and dozens of gold and ruby couches arranged in mini sitting areas. The room was even better - tile floors, modern bathroom and terrace with an ocean view. There were only two things we would discover were a bit odd about the hotel. The first was the electricity seemed to go off regularly. One day we went back to the room after a swim and found the electricity off. So I took a candlelit shower (wisely, they kept candles in room). Even stranger, the first morning we awoke to the cleaning woman walking in without knocking. And after my candlelit shower, I was startled while I was standing there (luckily) in my towel, as another maid entered without knocking and handed me some more towels. We learned to use the "do not disturb" sign.
At first we felt somewhat stranded at the hotel. Especially Geoff who at this point was wishing we had stayed in the city so we were closer to the 'action.' That night we were ready to head out at about 5:30 but that was sunset and every Muslim was eating their first meal since 5AM. So the hotel staff wasn't too confident in us getting a cab, but one did eventually come. We had wanted to go to the coastal town Sidi Bou Saïd, but our driver informed us that everything would be closed for Ramadan. He also said that the locals don't eat out at restaurants. I wasn't sure later if he meant just in that town or just during Ramadan. Most of my conversations in French left unanswered questions like these. Anyway, we went to the town anyway figuring at worst we could get a cab at one of the nearby hotels.
Our driver dropped us off on a hillside of cobblestone streets filled with the trademark white buildings and blue doors of Sidi Bou Saïd. Only a few people were walking around and hardly anyone sat at the only open café. Amazingly, we found the restaurant Geoff had picked. We ordered mostly Tunisian specialties. We both got couscous but the lamb was fatty, and Geoff aptly described the couscous as wet breadcrumbs. The best part was the 'brick' a thin, fried pastry with an egg in the middle. For dessert, we ordered the Tunisian pastries - a plate of tasty cookies, although we joked that they were really all the same nut cookie with different toppings - powdered sugar, honey, or pine nuts - in varying shapes to appear unique.
After dinner, a few locals were out - especially packs of young women together walking and some men now hanging out drinking tea at the local café. It still was hard to imagine this as a touristy town - but then again Ramadan in November is not the high season. Even more surprising was during the cab ride home suddenly the streets were teeming with life - little convenience stores had sprung open and dozens of cafés overflowed with men of all ages drinking and smoking.
On our way back to the hotel, our driver got stopped by the national police. We waited in the car for about 15 minutes while our driver sighed. When we asked him what was happening, he rattled off something about controle. I was surprised to see how annoyed he was since I had assumed everyone in Tunisia would be patriotic, religious and compliant. In Tunisia, president Ben Ali, whose picture we would find in every hotel, restaurant and hole-in-the-wall café, has presided over the country since 1987 and is 'elected' regularly by 99 percent of the voters. [See his picture: http://www.cst.rnu.tn/images/presentation/president.jpg] So patriotism isn't much of an option. Of course as annoyed as he was, he complied and waited. After they finally let us go, the meter had run up quite a bit. When we arrived at the hotel, the driver, apologetic for the delay, drastically reduced the price. Of course, Geoff gave him a generous tip all the same.
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