To Hergla and then home.

We are now at our final stop of the trip, at the Dar Khadija in Hergla. We will head directly from here to the airport, about an hour from here. It is a wonderful place, and a great place to spend the last two nights of our trip. We drove about five hours yesterday from Tammamont Home, where we'd spent the previous two nights. Now, to our last day in the country. We spent yesterday afternoon walking around the pleasant town. It’s so much more authentic and lovelier than Sidu bou Said, the town everyone recommends and most of the tourists, us included, go to. Our host here, when I told him that, said that people call Hergla the little Sidu bou Said. It’s on the ocean, and we walked down to where we thought the beach must be, but found only a rocky and not very appealing shore. Last night we were on our own for supper, and found a delightful little restaurant we had walked past earlier in the day. I told the man then, when I peeked in, that we weren’t hungry then but might come back later. And we did. He’d said there was fish on the menu, and we hadn’t had any fish during our two weeks. A woman in a shop we’d been in recommended the place, and said the fish was always caught fresh that day. When we knocked on and opened the door, the man was inside the doorway sitting at an easel and painting. He led us up some stairs where there were a few tables. We were the only customers. A young and and older woman who we assumed were his wife and daughter went into the kitchen and we soon heard the sound of frying. The fish was delicious. I think I understood him to say it was dorado. We don’t know if there was anything else on the menu, and it didn’t matter. The fish was served with fries and salad, as most every meal we've had is. Today was Mohsen’s last day as our driver. He went home to Marsa after he brought us back here. This morning and afternoon we went to Nabeul, known for its pottery. We stopped at the first shop where Mohsen could park on the busy street. Spent a half hour or more wandering around and watching the potter spin small pots on a wheel, and a man and a woman hand painting tiles. I asked if they had any small broken scraps, not sure if they would understand the concept of making pique assiette mosaics from broken pieces of pottery. They did, but told me that an Italian woman had been there the day before and took all the broken pieces they had. We bought a few small tiles and then went to another much bigger store. Although we’d already bought all we thought we could carry home, we wandered around and bought a few more small pieces. I again asked if they had any small broken shards. At first they said no, but when Mohsen or Sadok asked a little later, they came back with a small bag of scraps. I offered to pay him something but he waved me off. Crazy American, he was probably thinking. After another hour’s drive, we arrived in Zaguan, where we were met by our guide of the day. All of our guides have been very knowledgeable and personable. We’ve had a different one in each location, for walking and/or driving tours, probably six or seven in total, including our overnight camel driver and guide to camping in the desert. We’ve probably absorbed about half of what they’ve told us about the history of the place, and then probably forgotten at least half of that. Today we saw the Roman fountain and the beginning of the aqueduct that runs from there to Carthage, where we had seen the other end of the 132-kilometer-long water system. Today’s guide was very informed about the local and national agencies, as well as the Italian government, that help fund the excavation and protection of various archeological sites around the country. He stressed that the community was always having to ask government agencies for funding. But he also stressed that he only criticized the government because he cared deeply about his country, and that it wasn’t a matter of politics. He showed us various sites within the city, where he had grown up and still lived, including the primary school he had attended. In addition to being a guide he is a middle school teacher of English. I would have guessed he was a history teacher because of his intense knowledge of local history. He also took us to a 17th century mausoleum and told us about the man who had greatly helped the poor of the city. And he told us about various local festivals, one of which we had just missed by a few days. If we had known about it we might have considered visiting there first and making an opposite journey around the country. Sometimes small local festivals are the best of all. We had one last late lunch at another guest house in Zaguan. We met the owner, who was waiting for us with our lunch ready. She told us that the house, which has two guest rooms, had been her grandmother’s, and that her mother had been born there. She told us the story of a woman from the town who was very famous because she had received her doctorate, in French literature, when she was in her 80s. And then she said, “and that woman was my mother.” She wasso proud of her mother, who had just died a few years before. The owner said that she lived in Tunis, but came to town and the family home when she had customers. The place we are staying here, in Hergla, is also an old family home, which is true of many or most of the small guest houses in the country. I believe the same family still owns it, but they don’t live here. There are four or five guest rooms, each named for one of the grandchildren. It’s really a charming place, with the guest rooms surrounding a pool and patio, and additional sitting areas on a second and third level. There is a living room and a kitchen which guests are welcome to use. There are antiques and art all around the house. As everywhere we’ve been, aside from our Tunis airbnb, we have been served a sumptuous breakfast. That, with a second meal either in the afternoon or evening, is almost more than we can eat. It took us several days to convince our agents who have made our travel arrangements that we can’t eat three full meals a day! Breakfast here this morning included two kinds of bread, cake, fried eggs, cheese, yogurt, butter, jam, cucumber and tomato salad, and halvah! And coffee or tea. Other places have had similar spreads, In some places we’ve had hard boiled eggs. Sometimes we’ve had fresh cheese, in other places we’ve had little triangular cheese sections similar to the laughing cow cheese that was at one time fairly popular at home in the U.S. Lunches and dinners have been similar from place to place. First, salad, either cucumbers and tomatoes, sometimes onions and or lettuce, Then, a tomato based soup, somewhat spicy, with parsley and mayble other herbs, and perhaps corn or chick peas or rice.Then, a salad based on green peppers similar to New Mexico hatch chiles, which we still love after 50 years since we’ve lived there, and also a small amount of tomato, capers, and olive oil. Olive oil is served with pretty much everything, as are slices of lemon. Oh, and I almost forgot brik, little flaky pastries with dough similar to filo, stuffed with egg, potato, parsley, and maybe another green like spinach. The fillings vary in the proportions of the ingredients. I like the ones that are heavy on the greens and not as much on the eggs the best. They are sometimes in the shape of triangles and other times are rectangular. I am going to try to make some when we get back home. And just when you think you can’t eat any more comes the main dish, a stew with meat and usually a hot green pepper, and either couscous (which is actually a very fine pasta made from wheat, or another grain. ) Today’s was served with tiny little pasta squares, handmade, the owner told me, as I had guessed. I had about three or four servings of that. On the topic of food, a funny anecdote. We’ve seen trucks on the road hauling various loads of produce. Yesterday, we commented on one filled mostly with cantaloupes, with a few watermelons thrown in, as it passed us on the highway. Mohsen immediately pulled up alongside the truck, rolled down the passenger side window, and said something to the driver. Both Mohsen and the truck driver then pulled over to the side of the road, where Mohsen picked out four canteloupes, one for us and the others for him and his family. About fifteen minutes or so down the road, we passed the melon truck again, and both drivers tooted their horns at each other. There have been various vendors alongside the roads as we have driven around the country. In some cases, they are selling tea, according to Mohsen. In other places, it’s been loaves of fresh bread they hold out as we drive by. In other locations, it’s been fruit, strawberries in one stretch, oranges in another. And now, as we drive to the airport , some general thoughts and observations that I may have missed before now: First, the acres and acres of agricultural land throughout the country. Mostly olive trees further than one could even see. Tunisia is the fourth largest exporter, or maybe producer, of olive oil in the world, as more than one of our guides informed us. But the first in quality, they added. When we chuckled at their pride in their country, I hope we didn’t offend them. They each assured us that it was true, that Tunisian olive oils had won awards multiple years in international competitions. I hope we have time to buy a bottle at the airport . Right now we are stuck in traffic going thru Tunis so it’s possible we won’t. Next observation – storks. Yes, storks. The large black and white birds make their nests in power line towers along the sides of many of the roads we’ve travelled along over our travels. Sometimes there are multiple nests in a tower, and most of them have a bird sitting in them. In one tower we saw five nests. Our driver this morning said they nest here and then go elsewhere in the hot summer. I think they are common enough that the locals take them for granted. Our driver called them cygales, which sounded to us like seagulls. I thought at first he had the wrong English name. But we looked it up and realized what he was saying. I want to tell Achcraf to have guides or drivers point them out to other tourists, who might not notice them, because they are really impressive. We assume they are nesting now and will soon fly to other places that are not as hot in the summer. Tha architecture here is largely brick covered over by stucco, often the tan color of the desert sand, in other places, in the towns, whitewashed and often with blue trim. There isn’t one particular blue, but a range of blue hues. Architectural decoration includes metal, in doors, wrought ironwork, and studded doors. Some doors are wooden, some look ancient, but I am not sure they actually are. Tile decoration is common, as I had expected, often around the doorframes of houses and businesses, and sometimes more elaborate murals. It is difficult for me to discern if some of the incomplete buildings are ancient or recent. I asked one of our guides if he could tell, and he said no, because the construction methods were the same. There are also many sites of Roman and other ruins, some of which we visited, others about we heard or read. Some are still being discovered, and hopefully with more government funding more sites will be unearthed. Everywhere, around the country, are buildings in a state of construction and others in a state of decay. Some surely are being built in stages as money is available, as we’ve seen in other countries we’ve travelled to in the past. Often there are poles of rebar jutting up as the beginning of a second or third floor to come. That makes sense to me in worker class construction. But there are also many McMansion like houses that are also partially constructed, which puzzles me. Do people with some means still construct to the extent of their finances, and only add to them when money allows? Some buildings seem occupied on their lower levels, others look entirely vacant. One of our guides explained that many Tunisians have moved to France to work, and build summer homes here. Summer? It is already hot enough in the desert areas now, at the beginning of May. But summer is the wedding season, he explains, and that’s when people come back to visit with family. It’s a little reminiscent of Vietnam, where we visited last year, in that there are many partly constrcted buildings. But there, there was a predominance of huge hotel buildings, never completed, lined up along boulevards overlooking but not directly on the beach. There, we think it was Chinese investment and construction which then dried up before development was completed. Yesterday, our last full day in the country, Loring discovered a cache of dinars that he had forgotten he had. We went back to a crafts store in Hergla, after our day of touring, that we had visited the previous day. I had admired some hand painted leather bags that had been made by a local artist, the son of a friend of the store owner. She was clearly European, spoke excellent English as well as French, and Arabic. It turns out she was Norwegian, married to a French man, and had lived in France for many years. But they spent several months a year in Tunisia and she ran the store there. We admired the bags and many other crafts, different from most of the crafts we’d seen in the country. I knew I didn’t need a new handbag at all. But when Loring discovered the extra money he said it must mean that I was meant to have the bag. It was about 5pm when we went back to the store, not knowing whether it would be open or not. It wasn’t but there was a sign on the door with a phone #, saying to call if she wasn’t there. Which we did. And about an hour later, she called us back and said she’d meet us there. She was with a friend who she told us was the mother of the artist who made the bags, as well as sandals, wallets, and small waist bags. I chose one partly because of the softness of the leather, and also because I thought the design was reminiscent of camels. Of course, I’ve been seeing camels eveywhere since our ride into the desert, in hills and sand dunes. The store owner said she’d told her friend about us, and wondered if we might come back. We were all pleased that the artist’s mother was there and that we met her, and told her to tell her son about us. Also, we’d told her about our trip and about having a driver for the whole way, which worked out so well. So she asked more about him, and we gave her Mohnsen’s name and contact info. I hope he’ll get some more business from the connection. When we returned to Dar Khadiha we were surprised to see a group of young women and a couple of men. It turns out that they were models and photographers doing a fashion shoot for a Tunis company that makes burkinis, modest swimwear for Muslim women. We later looked up their site, MayaSquare. While we were there, we took pictures of us and them, by us and them. As many others we'd run into had, they asked how we'd enjoyed our time in their country, and thanked us for visiting. This morning at the Tunis airport, I tried to spend the rest of our dinars, about $40 worth. At the duty free shop I picked out olive oil, a date liquor, stuffed dates, pistachio halva, a stuffed camel for Julian, and more. Only to find that they didn’t accept dinars. Nor did the snack shop near our gate, which seemed ridiculous. Oh well, I put back everything but the olive oil, which I charged to my credit card. Loring suggested I just pick some Tunisians and give them the dinars, but that didn’t seem practical to me and I didn’t want to risk offending anyone. If only we’d realized earlier we could have given the money to Mohsen. Well, this could be motivation for a return trip, or to encourage someone we know to visit the country. After all, it’s only a two hour flight from Paris. Hmmm.