GETTING WET IN TUNIS

Today we arrived in Tunis, the capital city of Tunisia, or to be be more precise, we landed in the port of La Goulette, the gateway to Tunis. It was cool and grey, and there was a lot of activity in the harbour, with dredging operations in full swing and what looked like a new quayside under construction. A grey gunship sailed past, followed by a small police boat and a larger coastguard vessel; this is a place where they take no chances on security.

Our plan for the day, after a enjoying a leisurely breakfast, was to catch the free shuttle bus into Tunis. For this to happen, we had to present a completed immigration form, our regular passports, and our up-to-date Covid passports (via the NHS app). Having successfully nagivated our way through immigration, Tunisia was our oyster. Just as an aside; there will be no tour escorting on this trip. Despite Tracey having offered our services in the shore excursions office, it would seem that all their escorts have to be properly trained in first aid. Not that it’s an issue for us – it’s quite nice not having that extra burden of responsibility.

One of the first things we came across, before we’d even reached the shuttle bus, was a couple of blokes carrying large birds of prey, encouraging passengers to offer an arm for the bird to perch upon, and create a great photo opportunity. All well and good… except we have history with the concept, and memories of an encounter with similar bird-wielding operatives in Odessa many years ago, and the aggro that ensued once we realised with horror that they expected to be paid for the privilege (I know – call us naive) put us instantly on the defensive. We insisted that we had no money, yet the man persisted, and once again, Tracey ended up with a large falcon on her forearm. It provided us with a magnificent photo opportunity once again, yet this time, the man seemed genuinely, if a little reluctantly, satisfied that we were not going to part with any money.

Unfortunately, when we arrived at the small bus park by the terminal, at just gone 10:30am, we discovered that we’d just missed the 10:30 bus, and had to wait until 11am for our ride.

When we finally got going, the journey took 30 minutes, and we had a police motorcycle escort the whole way.

On our arrive in the city, the guide on the bus showed us the way into the medina – a large market very similar to the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul. And as with all of these sort of situations, the guide leading us had ulterior motives; that of preventing anyone from wandering off too far on their own, and conveniently leading us into a large rug stall where the proprietor proceeded to try and sell us something (presumeably, the guide would receive a small cut of any transactions that happened to take place). The use of a toilet was offered for anyone who needed it, but even that felt like a subtle ploy to keep everyone there for as long as possible, and part with their money – and why would you not, if you’d just been given the opportunity to visit the loo?

We took the first opportunity we could to try and escape, but the guide wasn’t going to be given the slip quite that easily. We were warned repeatedly about the need to stay within a very small area, but was then asked if we wanted to see a panorama of the city. Of course, she knew exactly how to pique our interest, and we were soon being led into another rug shop (the market wasn’t all about rugs, but they seemed to be the shops that were mostly in the business of trying to bag themselves a gullible tourist).

Several flights of stone steps, leading through multiple rooms each of which had a salesman trying very hard to engage our enthusiasm and raise the odds of purchasing an authentic Tunisian rug, finally brought us to the roof, where panoramic views truly did exist in every direction.

We snapped away with our cameras and enjoyed the impressive views as long as we could before its started to rain, lightly at first, but then it started to get a little heavier. Back downstairs in the market, we were guided to yet another rug shop where the owner pointed to the stairs for yet more views. Once again, we enjoyed the rooftop
panorama, but the rain was become gradually more persistent.

Despite being advised not to stray from the medina, or walk into areas around its outer edges, we tried pushing a little further out, but was finally beaten back by the rain (and the lurking possibility that we might be snatched by local bandits and left with nothing more than the socks on our feet). In fact, the rain was coming down so hard it formed sizeable rivers runnng through the market. We went as far as we felt we dare then turned and headed back towards the buses. The wider Tunis experience was clearly not available to us, and the weather had taken a notable turn for the worst.

Retracing our steps back to the bus meeting point, in the hope of catching the 1pm return shuttle bus, was a very damp affair. We stepped up the pace, but couldn’t quite make it in time. We were welcomed under the shelter of a bar roof as the rain became even heavier, but then made one last damp dash for the buses. We missed it. By minutes. We were allowed on to the next available bus, but it wouldn’t be leaving until 2pm. For almost an hour, we sat dripping in the back of the bus, listening to the call to prayer that hailed forth from the local mosques, and watching the thunder and lightning. It all felt very apocalyptic.

Just before 2pm, five further passengers got onto the bus, and we were whisked off back to the port with another police escort. It wasn’t the smoothest of journeys – talk about driving on your brakes – but we were finally rather pleased to be back on board ship, and even more pleased to discover that The Grill was still serving lunch.

Later, as we left Tunis, Tracey and I sat on our balcony watching the Coreys Shearwater skimming the surface of the waves, and I was rather pleased to be able to capture some half-decent 100fps video footage of them.

It was a shame about the weather, and the heavy restrictions on our liberties didn’t leave us with a particularly good impression of Tunis. If we ever get a chance to go there again, I think we’ll probably opt for an excursion…