Internet access was sparse in Tunisia, so I wrote my journal/blog entries in a Word document and have just had time to get them transferred here. Keep in mind that I don't have much of a filter on my mind and since I was not typing them into my blog, I wrote them more as I would just write in my own journal (for my eyes only) so there might be some not-so-censored thoughts here. Saturday, Nov. 12, 2005
We left Brussels at 5 a.m. this morning and finally made it to our hotel in Tunis by 4 p.m. In between, we changed planes in Milan and checked in (among 20 armed guards) to the conference Kyle will be attending in a few days. My first thoughts on Tunisia are:
--There are lots of security guards.
--The people are not as dark skinned as I thought they would be in Africa.
--Everyone is really friendly.
--And man, I am glad I know a little bit of French.
I don't know if it is just because there is a large conference going on, but there are security guards with large guns EVERYWHERE -- I mean every street corner and at least five at every hotel. Although it should make me feel more safe, it really just makes me question their work ethic because it just looks like a lot of people standing around all the time.
After getting to our hotel, we headed to the Medina. This is basically the name for an open-air market in Tunisia. It was an experience like never before. Basically I was carried through the tiny cobblestoned alleyways by the crowd. You could barely even stop to look around because the crowd was so thick and constantly moving. The alleys (which are only 4 feet wide) kept going on and on and we could never stop to look at a map because the second you stepped into a stall you were hounded to buy something. We finally got out of the most crowded section and tried to find our way home. By this point it was getting dark and all the locals were heading toward the mosque. We were the only tourists in sight and although we had no reason to be scared, there was definitely a point when I said to Kyle (through clenched teeth) "Get me out of here now."
From our reading we have learned that Tunisia is the most liberal of all Muslim places; meaning that women do not have to cover their heads and they have many more rights than most Muslim women do. However, we also read that staring is not rude, so basically if you don't want to be stared at, then don't show anything off. Even though this is a very developed country, only 23% of women work, and the rest of them usually just stay at home (because, of course, that is their place) so there are just a lot more men in the streets than women. Because of these two factors, I really felt a strong urge while walking the streets to cover my head. Only about 20% of the women we encountered had their own heads covered, but with the way the men stared, I just wanted to cover my whole body and stare at the ground as I walked. This, too, was a feeling I had never felt before.
We finally made our way out of the Media and stopped for a local drink. I had read that mint tea was popular, so we had some of that. However, the way Tunisians make mint tea is basically fresh mint leaves, tea and 10 tablespoons of sugar -- all in the size of a double shot glass. My stomach could only handle about half the drink. For dinner we had couscous and lamb at a nice little restaurant. We have only had two meals here, but both seemed to be flavored with a very smoky, almost burnt-tasting spice.
It is now 9 p.m. and Kyle is next to me snoring. Although I often hate that one of my biggest weaknesses is that I am always tired, the upside to it is that I can sleep anywhere. This means that I slept for 45 minutes on the airport bench while waiting for our first flight, then an hour on the plane from Brussels to Milan and then an hour and a half on the plane from Milan to Tunisia. So now I am wide awake and my poor, "not so good at catching a wink anywhere" husband is fast asleep. This is, by the way, one of the handful of times I have stayed awake long enough to see him asleep!
Sunday, Nov. 13, 2005
Typical of us, we had put off making our room reservation until just a few weeks before the conference. "Luckily" the day Kyle called to make a reservation they had opened up just a few more rooms for the conference attendees. After last night, we figured out why our room was available. Our hotel in on a pedestrian-only street and part of the hotel is also a night club. Conviently enough, the nightclub is located just two floors directly below our room. This means that at any point from 10 p.m. to 4 a.m. we could hear the night club music and then the people's voices leaving the club too. Kyle can now do a great impression of what Arabic music sounds like. Needless to say, we did not have a great night's sleep.
Today we took the local train to Carthage. One reason I love to travel is because I re-learn so much history (thanks to Kyle.) I enjoyed history class in high school, but that was over 9 years ago, and in covering all of civilization, you can forget a few things. So as we travel K
yle reminds me of all the history I have forgotten. (Somehow he was able to retain it all.) Today's "lesson" was on the wars between Carthage and Rome. We saw ruins from the city of Carthage, along with huge baths they once used. When you realize you are looking at something from 2,500 years ago it can be pretty amazing. What I was most impressed and yet humbled by was the fact that 2,500 years ago they pretty much had the basic necessities for life -- a comb for their hair, cooking utensils, a lamp and even a baby bottle!
The next city we hit was Sidi bou Said. It is a beautiful, quaint city on the edge of the Mediterranean. I would love to be the paint supplier of this town, because there seems to be a specific "town color" of turquoise blue that everyone uses to paint their doors and windows. Between the blue of the ocean and the white of all the buildings, it really gives the city a dramatic feel. We had dinner overlooking the ocean and it was just wonderful.
The lack of women around here is really getting to me. As we were walking to the train station, we passed three consecutive open-air cafes that must have had a total of 175 men and 20 women. It feels just like the Georgia Tech campus!
So, as of today we have been in abroad for one year now. I can tell you that as much as I never thought I would go from Montgomery, Alabama (USA) to Brussels, Belgium (Europe), I also never thought that I would be in Tunis, Tunisia (Africa) one year later. Kyle pointed out that maybe we haven't come as far as we thought though, considering that we are in the exact same position we were in on this day last year -- we are sleeping in twin beds, in a hotel that only has dial-up Internet, no phone that works, and no TV that is in English.
Kyle is here for the World Summit on the Information Society. Basically the whole meeting has to do with computers and who controls Internet addresses. I would love to know why a meeting like this was chosen to be held in a place that has NO internet cafes or even Internet in the hotel. Tunis has places called Publi-Tel where you might think there would be Internet. Instead, there are just telephones in them. The newer Publi-Tels have signs that read, "New -- facsimilie!!!" and "Look -- photocopy!!!"
Kyle was told that the hotel would have Wi-Fi or broadband access. Instead, it has NO internet access in the hotel room, but if Kyle wants to sit on the floor in the hallway, there is access (though he can't find the outlet). As he was figuring out that there is no access in our room, he was quite a sight balancing the computer on his lap on the single bed with one line stretched strategically across the room to the only electrical outlet (which then meant that the TV couldn't be on) and the other wire stretched in the exact opposite direction to the phone line. I was basically doing hurdles if I wanted to go from one end of the room to the other when he was trying to do dial up.
There is a computer lab downstairs that has dial-up and French keyboard. Working on a computer with dial-up reminded me of the olden days when our family was one of the first to have Prodigy. Back then, I would bring a book while I sat at the computer and read a few chapters as I was waiting for everything to load. Tonight that didn't seem like such a bad idea.
So after dealing with the lack of Internet at the home of the World Summit on the Information Society we happened to go by the front desk. There is only one woman working for the hotel who speaks English. She was at the desk at that time and told us that we had to pay the balance of our bill. When Kyle gave her his American Express, she said they did not take it (even though it said on the Web site that they did.) So then she says we need to go up to the administration room, which happens to be on the sixth floor. Once up there, Kyle hands her a Mastercard for the remaining 420 dinar (their local currency which is equivalent to around $350) and she says that their credit card machine is having trouble connecting so we need to pay the bill in cash (but really we think that they just don't want to pay the surcharge for a credit card payment). She seems completely shocked when Kyle says he does not have 420 dinar on him and then acts very hesitant as if we will never pay the bill. In the meantime, they are holding our passports until we pay. When I was 12, my mom and I went to see "Not Without My Daughter." It was an incredible movie, especially knowing that it was a true story, and even though Tunisia is not nearly like the movie, I kept having fears of being kept there indefinitely while they had my passport.
Monday, Nov. 14, 2005We went to the main mosque of Tunis today and there wasn't too much to see. I pointed out to Kyle that you must have to really want to convert to Islam because they sure don't show or tell you much about it at their mosque. We paid an entry fee, which basically let us see the main courtyard of the mosque. If you craned your neck, you could barely see into the prayer area, but it was quite shadowy and dark. Being (slightly) inside a mosque has made the idea of one more personalized to me though now and
when I hear about mosques being bombed -- I can definitely picture it. I would like to know a little bit more about Islam because throughout the time we have been here we have heard the prayer bells, and have also seen men washing up, but we have no clue how all of this coincides. I also don't understand how some people still work during the prayer time. Also, some women here cover all of their hair, some just loosely cover their heads, and some wear "Western" style clothes with no head covering. The women that really get to me seem to be a large group of older women, who are short and fat and wear a long white cloth that covers their bodies. The part that bugs me is that they seem intent on holding the cloth together at their neck, but rather than pinning it (to free up a hand) they hold it together with one hand. And if they need both hands to carry something, then they hold it together with their teeth. Have they never heard of a pin???
Another crazy thing around here are their toilets. At the first public toilet I went to, I noticed they were out of toilet paper -- no worries, I had tissues. At the next public toilet, they were out of paper too! I thought it was a little odd that I didn't even see a toilet-paper holder, but hey, a lot of gas stations in the States just put it on the back of the lid, so maybe (when there is toilet paper) they do that. By the third public toilet without toilet paper, I was really getting annoyed
with the country. It was then that I noticed the small hose in the corner. I could barely believe my eyes, but when I turned the faucet, water sprayed out of it. Yes, the country does not use toilet paper -- you just hose yourself down! When I returned to our hotel, I noticed that our room did indeed have hose (along with toilet paper). In trying to experience the local things of the country, I gave the hose a try and let me tell you, it is like walking around after just stepping out of the swimming pool!
In the afternoon we went took the train to Hammamet, which is a beach town on the coast of the Mediterranean. As I was having to fight my way onto the train to make sure we got a seat for the hour's journey, I realized that throughout our time in the train station and on the train, we were the only "touristy" looking people. I pointed out to Kyle that I think we are the only people that think this type of traveling is acceptable (meaning truly traveling the way the locals do.) He didn't seem to agree with me as much, but trust me, for any woman out there reading this, I think you would agree.
So we finally made it to Hammamet. I won't go into detail, but after two hours, we finally found a spot on the beach to lay out. The tour book said that this beach was one of the best in the Mediterranean. Perhaps the author grew up in the Swiss Alps, because if she thinks this is good beach, then she is crazy. However, Kyle did point out that most of the Mediterranean beaches are just small pebbles, so maybe the fact that this was sandy was enough to constitute "greatness." There were huge prickly things, intertwined lots of stringy seaweed that was intertwined with broken glass, cigarettes, bottles and large amounts of trash on the beach. By 4 p.m., we were finally laying out and I told Kyle that as a child I had always wondered why my parents thought a magnet they had was so funny. It was at 4 p.m. in Hammamet that I finally understood the meaning of their magnet that reads, "Are we having fun yet?"
Tuesday, Nov. 15, 2005I am leaving tomorrow and I don't think I have ever been so ready to leave a place I am vacationing. I am just sick of Tunisia and everyone here. There has not been one specific incident that has really gotten to me, but just a lot of little things that have worn me down. Today, Kyle was at the conference from 10 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. In the time that I was without him, I think I got at least 10 catcalls, 20 stares, and about 100 feelings of uncomfortableness. Being a white, touristy-looking woman in this country feels like living in a place filled with construction workers. I said a total of 20 words words in English and then just butchered though my bad French the rest of the time. I have now created a few requirements for what constitutes a "vacation" for me.
1. The country must speak English, or I can at least get by in English (or maybe a little Spanish).
2. Women should be respected in the country.
3. Haggling and negotiating should not be the main form of figuring out a price.
4. The country should not be under a dictator, or near dictator rule.
The reason I required the non-dictator rule is because the president of Tunisia's picture is
EVERYWHERE. A restaurant or shop will get in trouble with the police if they do not have a picture of him prominently displayed. There were pictures of him on the sides of most buildings and lots of flags flying with his picture.
Because my entire time in Brussels is basically a vacation, I am not complaining too much, but if I only had two weeks away from work, I would definitely not spend them here. I have never been comfortable with the idea of haggling, negotiating or anything like that. My type of personality sure does not fit in around here. Part of the reason I bought so little on this trip was because I was so annoyed and afraid of having to haggle a price that I just chose to do without than to make myself that uncomfortable.
Post Tunisia
I wasn't able to write anything once I returned from Tunisia because basically from that Wednesday morning until Friday evening I was in PURE HELL. Wednesday morning (five hours before my flight back to Brussels) Kyle and I went down to the front desk to try to at least get my own passport back and leave Kyle's as collateral (because Kyle had still not been able to use the cash machines to get the dinar out to pay for our room.) In broken French, Kyle was able to say that we needed my passport. The man at the desk said I could get it in two hours, but was never able to explain why we needed to wait two hours. Kyle was on his way to the conference and I was scared that as I was trying to leave for the airport, I would have to say in French that I needed my passport, they would end up not giving it to me, and I would miss my flight out of that hell hole. Scenes from "Not Without My Daughter" flashed through my head and I honestly think the stress of it all gave me a near nervous breakdown, which was compounded by stomach issues from the food. I went back to our room and curled up in the fetal position while Kyle ran around Tunis getting the dinar together to pay for our room (and thus get my passport back). Kyle got the passports and then had to leave for the conference. We both thought I would feel better after laying down for a little bit, but boy were we wrong. I painfully dragged myself to the airport and spent my time counting down the seconds until my flight. I realized that if you only have 24 hours left to live and you want to make them as long as possible, then be sick in a Tunisian airport and your day will feel like an eternity.
During the flight from Tunis to Rome I had a wave of illness. I was so sick that I couldn't bear the thought of sitting squashed up against the window in my little coach seat for any longer, so I just plopped myself down in a first-class seat with my barf bag on my lap and no one bothered me for the rest of the flight. After almost having to crawl through the airport to get to my connection, I borded the next plane from Rome to Brussels. Even though I had to change planes, it turned out that it was the same flight crew for this flight too. When they saw me coming they said (with a grimace), "Oohhh, you're back!" This time they were kind enough to give me three seats together in the back of the plane so I could sleep for the two-hour flight. To top everything off, when I got to baggage claim they informed me that my luggage had been left in the Rome airport during my layover. My luggage had my phone charger in it, so I had barely enough battery power left in it to desperately call my good friend Kelly to come and nurse me since Kyle was still in Tunisia.
The unique part about being an expat is that your friends become like family because no one has any family here. Kelly was a wonderful nurse and took great care of me. By the time Kyle returned on Saturday night I was feeling much better (how does he always seems to be able to avoid the "in sickness" part of our vows!?!) but I will be happy to never return to Tunisia!
