It is getting late; we must get to our camp before dark. Our bus takes us to Zafrane, the edge of the desert, where eight of us squeeze into a large 4X4 SUV for a half hour desert journey. The “road” is a ploughed trail that snakes around large dunes and bumps over small ones. Often the trail virtually disappears and the SUV fights its way through knee deep sand drifts before rejoining the trail. Much like a winter drive in Manitoba after a snowstorm, the ride is fun and scary. We arrive at the Mehari encampment just before sunset. The full moon is rising, and we are in awe. I do my best to take a few pictures in the fading light.
So why would we each pay twenty Tunisian dinar extra to stay in a bush camp risking sand storms, scorpions and poisonous vipers instead of choosing a comfy hotel in Douz where we could watch satellite TV? Can you see Elenore and me doing it any other way? All in all, the camp is quite civilized. Each couple gets their own tent, although a thatched hut is an option. A nearby fixed building has toilets and cold showers. Across the compound past the small swimming pool is a large kitchen tent as well as a smaller bar tent. The ‘hallways’ from bedroom to kitchen to bar are paths of the softest Sahara sand. We’ll never again know what ‘sand-colored’ means as we watch the hues change in the play of light.
After communing with our fellow travellers over a glass of wine in the bar, we enjoy another typical Berber meal which includes egg deep-fried in light pastry and roast lamb. The real feast is a full moon walk. In the spotlight from above, we stand on the tallest dune and sing a round of “By the Light of the Silvery Moon,” then breathe the warm night air and observe village lights in the distance. Below us, a Bedouin (likely a camp staff member) gathers palm fronds and stacks them for a bonfire. We have to leave at five thirty the next morning and sadly forego fun around the fire to squeeze in a short sleep lulled by cricket song.
We leave reluctantly the next morning, but enjoy the play of light across the sand as the sun rises and the spectacular moon show ends. The delights of the morning include: a drive from Kebili to Tozeur across the Chot El Jerid salt plains and a four by four trip into the Atlas Mountain to explore the mountain oasis at Chebika.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Spain
Early rise, breakfast and coffee in our room before heading out by bus (a new experience) to the modernist side of town to see the buildings of famous turn of the century architect and inventor Antonio Gaudi. Casa Battllo, our first stop, is a family house turned into a museum. We wait in line and pay 18 Euros each to get in. Seems expensive, but what a worthwhile introduction to an amazing man, his intellect and his works of form, function and fantasy.
We followed that up with lunch at Cacao Sampaka, the XO cognac of chocolate shops. The nearby La Pedrera is an apartment building renovated by Gaudi in 1905 which provided our afternoon entertainment. Then an early supper as our final stop before returning back to the Hotel by Metro subway. We had to rest for our big evening of Opera.
There is a dark side to Barcelona, and you can find it in the metros and all places where naive tourists with big fat wallets convene. The Metro is an underground place of hustle, bustle, and people of all shapes, sizes and economic status all coming and going in and out of fast trains. Some of those people are opportunists.
Elenore and I learned our lesson a few years ago in Athens. I naively exposed my wealth, and the location of my wallet while buying train tickets. I was pick-pocketed and lost all my money, Id, visa and bank cards. Fortunately at the time, Elenore had my passport. It was a violation that resulted in a painful loss of innocence, the scars of which resulted in travel wisdom. Expensive lessons are the most remembered lessons.
Well, it was our friend Stefan’s turn to be educated. As we entered the subway train, a commotion occurred, a young well dressed man dropped his cell phone, people bumped into each other as the doors of the train beeped loudly while trying to close. Then all of a sudden the commotion was over, two or three people in the doorway were gone, the door was closed. Our first clue that something was wrong was Annette’s untypical shout, “Damn!” The train was moving and Stefan’s wallet was gone.
The post crime activities and costs are extremely inconvenient and rarely documented. They involve phone calls through foreign operators to cancel credit and bank cards, arrangements for replacements, the expense of replacing hotel keys, and a lock smith to open and replace safety deposit box keys, transportation to and from the police station to fill out reports, time waiting for translators. If travel documents are involved it becomes even more expensive and complicated.
Elenore and I went to the opera alone; Annette and Stefan hoped to join us for the second act. The two of us got back on the horse and took the Metro downtown. Thousands of people mingled on La Rambla, our path to the Liceu, one of the world’s top opera houses. What a beautiful theatre! What a beautiful performance of Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde, enhanced by English subtitles displayed on a small monitor at each seat. Wonderful to understand what’s going on in this four hour production (5 hours including intermission). My one disappointment was that the tenor Richard Margison was replaced at the last minute. He is an acquaintance from my days at Manitoba Opera and the main reason we chose this opportunity. It was still a great cultural experience and I am glad we were motivated to go.
Our friends showed up for the second act in good spirits. They were chuckling about the police officer who’d exclaimed that if only they’d told him sooner, he would have gotten them there in time for the first act. The opera is that important! I give our friends a lot of credit for moving on past their hardship.
The next few days in Barcelona were wonderful with more exploration, good food, street music and great sights. For art lovers, the Picasso museum is a must. Another Gaudi fantasy is the Sagrada Familia, a church that is still being built after over one hundred years.
We left Barcelona the way we came, by Renfe (train) using our last two bus tickets.
Barcelona is a city of contrasts the old and new, the rich and poor, the Gothic churches and fantastical Modernist architecture, Renaissance art and of course Picasso’s cubist view of the world. It is a place close to our hearts. We will return.
We followed that up with lunch at Cacao Sampaka, the XO cognac of chocolate shops. The nearby La Pedrera is an apartment building renovated by Gaudi in 1905 which provided our afternoon entertainment. Then an early supper as our final stop before returning back to the Hotel by Metro subway. We had to rest for our big evening of Opera.
There is a dark side to Barcelona, and you can find it in the metros and all places where naive tourists with big fat wallets convene. The Metro is an underground place of hustle, bustle, and people of all shapes, sizes and economic status all coming and going in and out of fast trains. Some of those people are opportunists.
Elenore and I learned our lesson a few years ago in Athens. I naively exposed my wealth, and the location of my wallet while buying train tickets. I was pick-pocketed and lost all my money, Id, visa and bank cards. Fortunately at the time, Elenore had my passport. It was a violation that resulted in a painful loss of innocence, the scars of which resulted in travel wisdom. Expensive lessons are the most remembered lessons.
Well, it was our friend Stefan’s turn to be educated. As we entered the subway train, a commotion occurred, a young well dressed man dropped his cell phone, people bumped into each other as the doors of the train beeped loudly while trying to close. Then all of a sudden the commotion was over, two or three people in the doorway were gone, the door was closed. Our first clue that something was wrong was Annette’s untypical shout, “Damn!” The train was moving and Stefan’s wallet was gone.
The post crime activities and costs are extremely inconvenient and rarely documented. They involve phone calls through foreign operators to cancel credit and bank cards, arrangements for replacements, the expense of replacing hotel keys, and a lock smith to open and replace safety deposit box keys, transportation to and from the police station to fill out reports, time waiting for translators. If travel documents are involved it becomes even more expensive and complicated.
Elenore and I went to the opera alone; Annette and Stefan hoped to join us for the second act. The two of us got back on the horse and took the Metro downtown. Thousands of people mingled on La Rambla, our path to the Liceu, one of the world’s top opera houses. What a beautiful theatre! What a beautiful performance of Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde, enhanced by English subtitles displayed on a small monitor at each seat. Wonderful to understand what’s going on in this four hour production (5 hours including intermission). My one disappointment was that the tenor Richard Margison was replaced at the last minute. He is an acquaintance from my days at Manitoba Opera and the main reason we chose this opportunity. It was still a great cultural experience and I am glad we were motivated to go.
Our friends showed up for the second act in good spirits. They were chuckling about the police officer who’d exclaimed that if only they’d told him sooner, he would have gotten them there in time for the first act. The opera is that important! I give our friends a lot of credit for moving on past their hardship.
The next few days in Barcelona were wonderful with more exploration, good food, street music and great sights. For art lovers, the Picasso museum is a must. Another Gaudi fantasy is the Sagrada Familia, a church that is still being built after over one hundred years.
We left Barcelona the way we came, by Renfe (train) using our last two bus tickets.
Barcelona is a city of contrasts the old and new, the rich and poor, the Gothic churches and fantastical Modernist architecture, Renaissance art and of course Picasso’s cubist view of the world. It is a place close to our hearts. We will return.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Tunisia Travels
We arrange a two day custom tour to the South. In our small bus, eight Canadians, a driver and an English/French speaking guide. (I am including the names of the places if you want, follow the trail on Google Earth.) An hour and a half ride brings us to El Jem, the site of an impressive Roman Coliseum that rivals the one in Rome. It is smaller but in better condition.
Our journey continues south through endless acres of olive groves, past Tunisia’s second largest city, Sfax, then a coastal drive to Gabes. As we turn inland towards our “late” lunch in Matmata, the countryside gets rougher and dryer. We see the occasional oasis with its signature cluster of date palms, but mostly we are mesmerized by sunbaked sedimentary rock, dusty and cruelly dry even now in the Tunisian winter.
Matmata is home to Berber people who still live in underground cave dwellings. As in any place where it is hard to eke a living from the harsh landscape, the youth leave for cities or tourist resorts. Like us, they want electricity and running water, perhaps a satellite dish to supplement their cell phone connections. We consider it a novelty to visit a home where Elenore has to work for her lunch.
We are treated to a real Berber lunch nearby in a cave hotel where some of the original Star Wars movie was filmed. Good spicy couscous and cabbage with a morsel of lamb eaten in a unique atmosphere.
Our journey takes us inland now towards Douz, the Tunisian gateway to the Sahara.
The Sahara covers one third of Tunisia. In this part of the world, camels and date palms groves are the outward demonstration of wealth, so I was quite flattered to be offered two thousand camels in exchange for Elenore. We decide to rent a couple of camels before making our final decision on the deal.
A desert experience is the highest on my wishlist for this trip and I am not disappointed. In spite of being walked along like a kid on a pony ride, my time on the camel exceeds expectation. For a few moments I am Lawrence of Arabia looking out over the endless Sahara, reliving a past life as a desert dweller, a freedom fighter of Dune, Roland on a camel and totally thrilled.
Our journey continues south through endless acres of olive groves, past Tunisia’s second largest city, Sfax, then a coastal drive to Gabes. As we turn inland towards our “late” lunch in Matmata, the countryside gets rougher and dryer. We see the occasional oasis with its signature cluster of date palms, but mostly we are mesmerized by sunbaked sedimentary rock, dusty and cruelly dry even now in the Tunisian winter.
Matmata is home to Berber people who still live in underground cave dwellings. As in any place where it is hard to eke a living from the harsh landscape, the youth leave for cities or tourist resorts. Like us, they want electricity and running water, perhaps a satellite dish to supplement their cell phone connections. We consider it a novelty to visit a home where Elenore has to work for her lunch.
We are treated to a real Berber lunch nearby in a cave hotel where some of the original Star Wars movie was filmed. Good spicy couscous and cabbage with a morsel of lamb eaten in a unique atmosphere.
Our journey takes us inland now towards Douz, the Tunisian gateway to the Sahara.
The Sahara covers one third of Tunisia. In this part of the world, camels and date palms groves are the outward demonstration of wealth, so I was quite flattered to be offered two thousand camels in exchange for Elenore. We decide to rent a couple of camels before making our final decision on the deal.
A desert experience is the highest on my wishlist for this trip and I am not disappointed. In spite of being walked along like a kid on a pony ride, my time on the camel exceeds expectation. For a few moments I am Lawrence of Arabia looking out over the endless Sahara, reliving a past life as a desert dweller, a freedom fighter of Dune, Roland on a camel and totally thrilled.
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