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To The Last Place…On To Djerba Island
“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,…
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The Journey Continues: Monastir-El Jem-Gabes
Strictly speaking, El Jem isn’t a desert town, but as we step off the louage from Monastir and squint through the haze, it bears all the hallmarks of one. We arrive in a dust storm – or maybe a sand storm – which makes the whole town shimmer in the heat and minarets and palm trees drift in and out of sight. Flags whip and crack in the stiff wind, the sun is clogged and filtered by the sand which is so concentrated that it’s a bit like looking into a fog. Our glasses and sunglasses are quickly covered in a film of dust, layers of sand particles have coated…
