Africa,  Independent travel,  Photography,  Transport,  Travel Blog

To The Last Place…On To Djerba Island 

May 20, 2022 /

“Can I ask you something personal?”, he says from behind his camel dinner, in that way that only an American would just five minutes after introductions, “Do you think the guy who runs our hotel is kinda rude?”

Well no, actually, he’s been fine, but, as far as Dennis and his cousin Bonnie are concerned, our maitre d’ seems to have failed to have made a connection. As it turns out, Dennis and Bonnie had spotted something that we hadn’t. In the way that Americans do.

Because let’s fast forward now to our departure date, when immediately after breakfast a maid bursts into our room without knocking on the door, looks us in the eye and mutters something Arabic at finding we are only just packing. A few minutes later, at 8.40am, we get a call from reception demanding to know when we’ll be leaving. Check out time is 12 noon. Rude huh!?

Leaving Tozeur
Last sight of Chott El Djerid

Using private or family run hotels brings with it the fun of staying in places which reflect the character of the owner – what we English might call the Basil Fawlty effect – and maybe we just got a piece of it. Well hats off, Dennis, you saw it first!

Gabes louage station

So our final desert drive is from Tozeur back to Gabes where we drop off the car and revisit the terrific fish restaurant by the harbour where we enjoyed a great meal nine days ago. En route we stop off in El Hamma for coffee, street food and ATM, and for the first time in the entire Tunisia tour we find ourselves in a truly Arabic town where nobody we meet speaks French, let alone English. The street food, by the way, is fantastic, as is the grilled fish in Gabes.

Ready to leave
Road to Libya
En route to Djerba

And so to our final destination on this trip. There’s two ways to get to the island of Djerba: via ferry from Jorf or by travelling further south and crossing the manmade causeway/bridge by road. Disappointingly our louage driver takes the latter option and deprives us of a ferry ride which we’d been looking forward to.

Petrol stations in rural Tunisia

For this last week of our North Africa trip we’re now done with hotels and are back in the more familiar surroundings of an apartment, and it feels good to have our own space once again.

Our Djerba street
Our home on Djerba
Our home on Djerba
Our home on Djerba

Something odd has happened over the last few days too: on the last day in Tozeur, my legs decided they’d had enough and flatly refused to walk any distance, then the next day in Gabes Michaela fell asleep before 9pm and didn’t wake till morning. Clearly after nearly 60 days of activity our bodies have finally objected to being controlled by our teenage minds! Perfect timing then that we find ourselves in a ground floor apartment with garden and sun terrace about 50 yards from the beach, food shops and a booze shop (“The Cave”) just down the road, to unwind for a while. 

Our apartment here is a couple of miles from the village of Mezraya and a 10-minute taxi ride from the island’s main town of Houmt Souk. Djerba Island is a popular holiday destination for continental Europeans yet not so much for the British apparently – the flags of European nations mark several of the sights but again ours is conspicuous by its absence. Away from the main “zone touristique” which is south of here, this is a decent location.

Houmt Souk
Houmt Souk

Houmt Souk has plenty of visitors currently and is without doubt the most European influenced town we’ve seen on this trip. Yes there are souks and yes there are mosques and yes there is Arabic clothing, but there’s also cafes in leafy squares, glasses of beer in open view, and people in summer clothes. For anything Houmt Souk loses in authenticity, it gains in being a perfect place to end a trip which for us has embraced so much variety. 

Houmt Souk
Houmt Souk

Thursday night, 19th May. Stars shine despite the light pollution, the sea breeze bends the palm trees and whispers secrets about the coming summer, the Mediterranean kisses the sand with a gentle sibilance rather than a roar. The lights of small fishing boats bob out at sea, now and again a taxi light glows primrose yellow as it cruises past hoping for a fare.

Through the curved doorway of La Taverne, the sound of the blues drifts skywards on the breeze, passionate guitar solos going straight to the heart and straight to the tear ducts. The scent of good food fills the air, glasses clink and there is even the occasional sound of cocktail shakers. Two thirds of this trip has been alcohol free, we’ve worked through Ramadan and engaged with iftar, evenings have been short and indulgence has been little more than a memory.

And now we’re in La Taverne with its dimmed lights, candlelit tables, wailing blues guitars and well stocked bar. I smile at Michaela, she smiles back and we raise our glasses to the joys of travel. These two months have been an experience and a learning curve and a journey deep into another culture. Tonight, here in La Taverne, we are ourselves again.

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