[Author's
Note: I arrived in Tunis on September 10th,
2010 and left two months later. The Arab
Spring
began in Tunisia on December 18th,
2010, a day after the self-immolation of Mohamed
Bouazizi.
I missed the festivities by about a month or so. Some would say I
dodged a bullet but I cannot help feeling like I missed the boat. How
often do you have the chance to watch history unfold from the front
row? It is interesting for me to go back and read about my
experiences at the time. Yes, I could almost taste repression in the
air but if you told me the powder keg was about to ignite I would
have been incredulous in the extreme. Yet, there it was boiling just
beneath the surface. Keep this in mind when reading my Tunisia
posts. It makes for a fascinating subtext.]
Oct
9th,
2010 - Although our time at Ksar Ghilane was disappointing I believe
it possible to make a trip there worthwhile. Renting your own vehicle
from Gabes,
finding accommodation closer to the dunes, checking out the
sunset/rise, and splurging on a two hour horsey ride into the ocean
of sand would all be trip enhancers. I am going to see about getting
a visa into Libya but if it falls through I may give southern Tunisia
another go.
So
we left the oasis fairly early the next morning (our driver
apparently had shit to do) and made our way to the town of Matmata.
The tourist hordes descend upon this small town for two reasons: to
take a peek at the famous troglodyte homes and follow in the
footsteps of the world's most famous Jedi.
The Berbers that settled this area took environmental adaptation to a whole other level and built underground homes that provided shelter from the desert inferno. Resembling bomb craters these dwellings would probably be overlooked if you did not know they were there. Not far from Matmata we stopped at one of these subterranean abodes, had some tea, and then a look around. There is a certain 'human zoo' type awkwardness to such visits but I will say it is worth a look. And, in the end, it does provide a much needed source of income for the locals.
The Berbers that settled this area took environmental adaptation to a whole other level and built underground homes that provided shelter from the desert inferno. Resembling bomb craters these dwellings would probably be overlooked if you did not know they were there. Not far from Matmata we stopped at one of these subterranean abodes, had some tea, and then a look around. There is a certain 'human zoo' type awkwardness to such visits but I will say it is worth a look. And, in the end, it does provide a much needed source of income for the locals.
Ok, cue the kitten, the sheep, and the woman grinding millet aaaaaaaaand, "Action!!" |
"I love you so much I could just...just....SQUEEZEYOURF***INGHEADOFF!!!!! ARRRRRGH..... |
And
if that is not enough you can also bed down in a hotel modeled on the
same design. You'd be a complete asshole not to do so. Phil and I bid
farewell to our driver after finding a nice cozy subterranean dwelling (Hotel Marhala). In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, 'There
ain't no place like a hole in the ground'.
We
let a gentleman peddling short day trips to the surrounding area talk
us into hiring a car and driver for a short excursion to the village
of Toujane. It is there I have read you can find interesting Berber
architecture to include stone houses and an old kasbah. I am sure it
is lovely. I wouldn't know because I never went. Our driver never
showed up, that is until the guy we organized the trip through saw us
returning from lunch and called him. By then our motivation had all
but disappeared.
Our dejection led us directly to nap time. Phil was still recovering from a bout of food poisoning and I had not really slept all that well myself the previous evening. Unfortunately, my slumber was soon interrupted by the din of giddy tourists checking out nearby rooms. I emerged from our cave to discover a father slowly entering a room with a video camera to the delight of his teenage children. This image was punctuated by the conveyer belt of tourists pouring off the buses into our hotel. It was just neato [insert derisive sarcastic tone here]. And although it would have been inexcusably petulant I had every desire to walk around sans pants while drooling and scratching my naughty region. It just felt like the thing to do. Would that be wrong? Sure. But, more importantly, would that be funny? Definitely.
Recognizing the futility of trying to snooze I grabbed my pack and went for a stroll. As I left the hotel I noticed a small hill nearby with a rocky plateau that appeared to provide a decent view of the area. My stroll turned into a short hike. It was a good call as the view was excellent and the breeze on top brisk and refreshing.
Our dejection led us directly to nap time. Phil was still recovering from a bout of food poisoning and I had not really slept all that well myself the previous evening. Unfortunately, my slumber was soon interrupted by the din of giddy tourists checking out nearby rooms. I emerged from our cave to discover a father slowly entering a room with a video camera to the delight of his teenage children. This image was punctuated by the conveyer belt of tourists pouring off the buses into our hotel. It was just neato [insert derisive sarcastic tone here]. And although it would have been inexcusably petulant I had every desire to walk around sans pants while drooling and scratching my naughty region. It just felt like the thing to do. Would that be wrong? Sure. But, more importantly, would that be funny? Definitely.
Recognizing the futility of trying to snooze I grabbed my pack and went for a stroll. As I left the hotel I noticed a small hill nearby with a rocky plateau that appeared to provide a decent view of the area. My stroll turned into a short hike. It was a good call as the view was excellent and the breeze on top brisk and refreshing.
I can't be sure but I think this is the face I make when I am constipated. |
After my hike it was time to go to Luke's house. I'd grown up with Luke but had never actually visited his home. It was high time I rectified this. By Luke I am of course referring to Luke Skywalker and by home I am referring to the Hotel Sidi Driss. This is where scenes from Star Wars: Episode IV and Star Wars: Episode II were shot. This is the location where Luke dined with his aunt and uncle while discussing their new droids and his future. It is also where young Aniken visited younger versions of Luke's aunt and uncle. Yes, I realize that it is a bit cheesy but I still could not contain my giddiness at being in Luke's house. The problem is I fucking love Star Wars, especially the originals. Love it. When I was a kid those movies blew my socks off. I could shit myself just sifting through the nostalgia. George Lucas may be a consummate douche packer in real life but he really knew how to capture people's imagination, at least with first series. And just to emphasize the surreal nature of my visit I had a few beers from the hotel bar. Not very Jedi-like but damn entertaining. Obi-Wan would be disappointed.
I have read that the bar seen from the first Star Wars film was also shot here but it was difficult to see how this is possible as the bar area is extremely small. It must have been all about camera angles. I will be forced to view Episode IV for the 1,210,596th time in order to be sure. Gosh, I sure am cool. If you really want to hit the "Balls To The Wall" setting on the Dork-o-meter check out Wookieepedia.
Phil and I
discussed the possibility of renting a car and visiting the
surrounding area but in the end decided to move on to the island of
Djerba instead. It is a shame because I believe there are some
interesting sites nearby but neither of us had the energy to
negotiate transport hire. Our patience was wearing thin.
The force was most definitely not with us. I'm sorry Obi-Wan.
'Who's the more foolish: the fool, or the fool who follows him?
This is a picture of Luke Skywalker's house from outer space. Outer space!! You could tell me that's not cool but you be a f***ing liar. From outer space. Get it? Awesome. |
Without the arrow who know's where you'd end up. Dagobah? |
Nothing screams authenticity like a Star Wars beach towel hanging on the wall. |
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'Love me or hate me, but spare me your indifference.' -- Libbie Fudim