1973

Greetings!

This year I have a fairly off-bent trip to report, namely a camping trek around Tunisie on Algeria in May, with a small group in a Ford Minibug -- tents, sleeping bags and campfire cooking in the land of the Barbary Pirates, where Christians captured off European and American ships were sold as slaves for hundreds of years until the French took over in the early 19th century! Had to speak French everywhere, since the only alternative was Arabic, and I was gratified to find that even my mediocre French “worked.” In fact I had to help intercept for some of the others in the group.

The natives of these countries are mainly of the Barber race, a Caucasian people of dark coloring somewhat resembling Malaysians. They have been occupied and ruled over several thousands of years by the Phoenicians, Romans, Vendals, Byzantines, Arabs, Spanish, Turks, and finally the French, and they have become independent and selfgoverning only in recent years. There are many contrasts of “the old and the new,” modern features side by side with oldfashioned or primitive ones, and there are still even many bedouin tribes wandering about in their colorful costumes with their goats, camels, etc., and camping in their graceful tents of wool in broad earth-tone stripes. We saw a fantastic variety of scenery, architecture, costumes, plants, and (ugh)insects. Our itinerary took us through rolling hills and farmland, meadows carpeted with beautiful wild flowers, rugged mountains (some with a bit of snow on top), dramatic rock-hewn gorges, flat scrubby desert, sand-dune deserts, salt flats, palm-oases with voluminous irrigation streams, gorgeous beaches; Phenicien, Roman and even early Christian remains (the early Christians didn’t last, what with Roman “discouragement” and then the later introduction of Islam by the Arabs), the full gamut of Arab/Turkish Moslem features such as welled Medines (old native quarters), souks (bezeers), mosques, ribats (fortified monasteries, to fight off Christian attackers); troglodytes’ underground cave-houses, lovely French villes and other modern buildings, and attractive beach resort hotels where holidaymakers from the cold northern countries, mostly Germany, Scandinavia and Britain, come to soak up the sun, of which there is an abundance (we noted a temperature of 128º at one point).

The climate and plants are very much like California, as is much of the Mediterranean area, the familiar citrus, olives, eucalyptus, oleanders, hibiscus, bougainvillea, cacti, etc., plus perched earth and hot sun--the letter exceeding most of California’s however except for our own deserts. We did most of our own cooking (frightful stews enlivened by the inevitable sand, and harsh, cheap local wines), but we did have occasions to try native cooking, some of which was very tasty and interesting, and some which was rather revolting (they make us of all entrails). They have particularly delicious and very fresh fish along the coastline. And of course the traditional French cooking could also be found in some places.

Our itinerary began at Tunis, where I’d been very briefly before. It’s a large fairly modern (i.e. French) type city and has a wide main boulevard with a tree-lined central mall full of pretty flower stands, magazine stands, etc. The native Medine “teems” with life and colorful markets, and the Bardo museum on the outskirts of town has a fascinating collection (world’s largest) of Roman mosaics I enjoyed seeing again. We travelled westward to Dougge (marvelous remains of a Roman city), crossing the border into Algeria with endless niggling formalities on both sides totalling nearly 3 hours, through the market town of Souk Ahras to Constantine, a city dramatically situated on a tremendous mountain gorge; it has been continuously inhabited since prehistoric times. Then we headed south, pausing for a look at the remains of the headquarters of the Third Augusta Legion of the Roman Army at Lambesis, and the splendid Roman city of Timgad, which has one of the two known Roman library remains (the other being at Ephesus, Turkey, which I’ve seen on my Hellenic Cruises), and with roads rutted by the passage of many chariot-wheels in their day. The wind and heat here were nearly overpowering and I doused myself liberally at the same fountain used by the Romans. Then we went through the spectacular Aures mountains and gorges, an area where the hardy natives have always held out against foreign occupying powers, and apparently gave the Romans and the French a hard time; in fact, the final revolt against France began here.

We gradually came to flatter country, the heat  intensifying with every passing day; in fact, it got so all we could think about every time we stopped was getting something to drink and water to slosh over ourselves, if it were available. The oasis town of Touggourt did little to cool us; it was entirely yellow-ochre, from the ground to the buildings to the air and the sky, from constant blowing sand, and I then fully appreciated the point of the native women’s costumes, all-enveloping pale pastel-checked sheet-like wraps, draped in a way so that only one eye need peer out into the sand. (In the north of Algeria the costume was a somewhat nun-like black wrap and head-veil, with a small white face veil over nose and mouth. In Tunisian towns, and Tunis in particular, white sheet-like wraps were in vogue. However, in very rural areas where there had been less Arab influence, the women retained the Berbere traditional very bright multi-colored ensembles and did not cover the face. Very young women in cities wore modern European dress…. once there were, and how little scope they seemed to have (e.g. no women in restaurants or cafés).

We turned eastward across sand-dune deserts, nearly perishing with heat, and finding the highway partially covered with sand drifts and the telephone poles nearly buried with sand. The temperature was 113º inside our vehicle. These sand dunes are beautiful to the eye, but the roaring Sirocco is blowing so much of them into your eyes, teeth, hair, clothes, etc. that makes it almost impossible to walk, or care much about anything but getting out of there post-haste. Wind, sand, dirt, dust, heat, sweat, fatigue and thirst summarize the scene. (So much for all those romantic old Rudolf Valentino/Charles Boyer/Marlene Dietrich/GaryCooper movies!!)

The next oasis town was El-Cued, “the city of a thousand cupolas,” but architecture took second place to the search for a water-tap in the local market place where we drenched ourselves in very unseemly fashion, judging from the incredulity of the natives’ expressions. The preoccupation with water and something to drink (survival instinct) is paramount at all times. Incidentally, no matter how remote or primitive a village appeared, they always seemed to have Coca Cola (the signs being equally recognizable in Arabic). Only one village did not, but it had Pepsi. I never touch these things at home but consumed quite a bit in North Africa, since synthetic “orange” drinks had even less appeal & I sometimes felt the need of more than just commercially bottled water. We carried some water with us from native springs or pumps along the way, to use for cooking, tooth-brushing etc., and I had my own plastic bottle to put some of this in (with chlorine tablets); however, as one goes south into the desert areas the water becomes more and more saline and quite unpalatable.

More desert, and another time-consuming border crossing back into Tunisie, &then we camped in a palm grove in the oasis town of Tozeur. We had white sand and lovely palms and huge irrigation streams, most welcome, to pollute somewhat by bathing, laundry and dishwashing on the part of some very tired and dirty travelers. We also met our first scorpion here (before he had a chance to sneak up on us). Much insect repellent daubed round entrance of our tent at all times, more so than ever here. This place had 200 springs flowing at 165 gallons per sec. into streams which water 2590 acres of date palms--statistics I found rather mind-blowing after miles and miles of parched deserts. The next leg of the journey took us across the Chott Djerid (salt flats), with plenty of disorienting mirages, and not a good place to get stranded. We made it through some old slave-trade post villages to the coastal city of Gabes, where a few of us (including me) sybaritically crawled into a hotel with real beds and real French cooking and the rest of the group were nearly blown out to see camping on the beach in a windstorm.

Southward next through some World War II territory including the area of the Mareth Line, seeing a few German bunkers and German war cemetery, a stark, lonely place with one or two cacti among the rows of “iron cross” shaped crosses standing incongruously in the baked African earth and giving us some sobering thoughts of all that struggle in what now seems such an irrelevant place for the combatants and yet at the time had been important. At Metmets we visited some of the troglodytes’ underground cave-homes, the rooms being dug out round a central core which formed the courtyard and which gave the landscape a pitted moonscape appearance from a distance. Very sensible architectural style in which to keep cool in a beastly climate. Further south, we spent 3 nights on the lovely island of Djerba, timeless and peaceful, with miles of empty beaches (the Mediterranean gives good swimming, no huge waves to knock you down) and some very attractive hotels. Again a few of us opted for a couple of civilized nights with beds, showers, etc. at an hotel which also offered a campsite for the hardier souls. We camped for one night on a fairly isolated beach fringed with palms, which was great, although the next morning everything was drenched from the evening dew. Odysseus (Ulysses) is traditionally alleged to have landed on Djerba, which was thought to have been the “land of the lotos-eaters,” but I’ve subsequently read a book which gives pretty good evidence that it was actually somewhere further east on the libyan coast. Djerba has a market town also, full of souvenir items for the tourists, and I watched some rug-weaving in a local etelier. Rugs in Tunisia were interesting but I couldn’t cope with any bulky purchases on top of all my luggage so had to forego them.

We proceeded north along the coast area in to the large fairly industrial city of Sfax and camped in a wedi (dry river bed, the first “soft” ground I slept on the whole trip) and made a brief stop for a look at the huge Roman amphitheatre (colosseum) at El Djem, including the underground cells where gladiators, prisoners, lions, etc. were kept prior to the fights which furnished so much entertainment in roman days. We headed for Keirounan, the holy city, where I think 7 visits to the Great Mosque equal one pilgrimage to Mecca, considered very beneficial from the Moslem point of view. Most Tunisien architecture is white with blue trim (to (a) keep cool and b) keep the flies away) but in Keirounen we saw some buildings with an apple-green trim as well as the usual white and blue ones, so it seemed a more “colorful”town, though ti had a more peaceful quality, owing presumably to its religious orientation.

Monestir is a resort town with a splendid big ribat on a cliff overlooking a nice beach, and President Bourguiba has his family mosque and mausoleum built here. By the way, the main street of every town is named after him. Sousee is another large and quite bustling modern city and Nabeul are smaller more residential and resort-type places; at Nabeul we camped in a “camping motel” among orange trees, bathed in real showers, used real toilets, and ate dinner a dining room, breakfast on a lovely terrace under fig trees. Such things as plumbing, soap and water now seemed to be utter luxuries. Camping in the Sahara gives one a whole new perspective on life.

Thence back to Tunis for a last look and dash round the souks, topping off the trip with two attractive nearby residential and resort areas of Carthage (Phoenician and Roman remains which I’d seen before) and Sidi Bou Said (gorgeous view across Gulf of Tunis towards Cap Bon), departing Tunis Airport, discarding one pair of worn out shoes there just before takeoff.

I had a bit of time in London before and after this North African tour, seeing a few old friends, but without enough time to see everyone, which was frustrating. I managed to take in a few plays, notably “Habeas Corpus” (Alec Guinness), “Dear Love” (Keith Michell & Geraldine McEwan as Robt. Browning and Eliz. Berrett), “A Doll’s House (Claire Bloom)--all excellent. I also attended a delightful chamber music concert in a stately home, Hem House (once the seat of the Earls of Dysart), an experience which gives one an evening of feeling what it must have been like to live in such a place of grandeur during its 17th century heydey marvelous!

I found many changes in London, the main shock being a much higher cost of living, but it’s still one of my favorite places!