My Travel Adventures

My breakfast, just like the breakfast yesterday, was a hearty one, and I spent almost an hour cramming one item after another in my mouth: an omelette, a vegetable platter, slices of local anise-flavoured bread, yoghurt, dates, and a toast with cheese, figs, and honey. I told myself I would not have time to eat lunch, so I need not worry about having too much. The prolonged breakfast threatened to put me behind schedule, but I was forced to change this schedule anyway as soon as I walked outside: it was cold, windy, and cloudy – a disinviting combination for a stroll around the city.

Since breakfast at my hotel began at eight o’clock, I started the day later than I usually do. The day before, I asked the receptionist whether there was a bus to Kairouan, but she recommended I take the louage instead. “Louage” (which simply means “rent” in French) is the most popular form of intercity public transport in Tunisia and functions a bit like a shared taxi. The system works like this: A person buys the ticket to their destination at the corresponding counter at the louage station – usually a separate station from the bus station and the train station. Then, they go outside to find their van, where the driver usually stands ready to begin ushering them in. The van departs when it is fully occupied, which means there are no fixed schedules for louages, but the vehicles take little time to fill up on high-demand routes.

I woke up at five o’clock in the morning as I bought a 6:05 train ticket yesterday to El Jem. Since I packed up faster than I expected and checked out quickly as well, I arrived at the Tunis train station at half past five. The train did not, in fact, leave at 6:05 but instead arrived at 6:05, at which point the amassed crowd thronged the doors and rushed into the two wagons, paying no heed to the seats written on their tickets. I managed to board quite early and participated in the general chaos by sitting down one row behind my original seat to get a better view from the window. The train did not leave for another fifteen minutes, during which time several people passed in and out of the cab for a friendly chat with the conductor. At one point, the cab held at least four people, two of whom left the train before it even departed.

When I arrived in Tunis two nights ago, I greeted the receptionist at my hotel in French. She was a young lady with dark hair and bright green eyes, a striking feature that was tempered with the shyness of someone who does not like to call more attention to herself than she already receives. She responded to my greeting with embarrassment, saying – in English – that while she understood French, she would only be able to respond in English. She explained that unlike the older Francophone generations, most people in their twenties and thirties speak English better than French, which was a lesson that have carried with me throughout my travels.

On my first day in Tunisia, I visited Carthage. The highlight of my preparation for this trip was the night before when – at my hotel in Tunis – I revisited the Aeneid with its description of the city and Dido’s famous suicide scene. On a practical level, however, I had already done my logistical research several days earlier. The train to Carthage was supposed to run from the eastern end of central Tunis every half an hour, but recent reviews of the station said the train was out of order. Since I did not want to walk all the way to the station only to find out for myself, I decided to call a Bolt cab from my hotel and rode to Carthage directly.