Africa Archives - Page 5 of 9

Africa Ghana West Africa Trip 2019

Arrival in Accra

Landing in a new country often a bit stressful. Will I get hassled? Will my visa be issued? Etc. Ghana was no problem. I had gotten my visa ahead of time. I filled out the form at the border, gave a photo and my fingerprints. No questions were asked. The best part was that right in between immigration and baggage, and visible to both sections, a live jazz band was playing! You aren’t allowed to take photos in the airport, so I can’t prove it, but it was so pleasant. A wonderful welcome to the country.

(A little visa tip: on the application you will need your flight & hotel bookings, a LOI from the hotel and the ID of the hotel manager, which they should provide to you. What is tricky is that you need two personal references or contacts in Ghana. Obviously I didn’t have that, so I just put 1) the name of the hostel manager, and 2) the name of the Canadian ambassador to Ghana. I don’t know that person but their address in Ghana is public info and, I mean, they probably could vouch for me as a Canadian if asked. Anyway, it worked.)

Outside was a mass of people waiting with signs. No one was expecting me. I figured I would be harassed by taxi drivers, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t even figure out who they were. I ended up asking a security guard who flagged someone down for me.

It was almost 10:00 pm at this point so I went straight to my hostel and stayed put.

As we approached the hostel, which is in the Kokomlele neighbourhood I saw they people were still out cooking and selling food on the roadsides. A few little kiosks were open selling drinks, chips, toilet paper, etc. People were hanging out. It was quite dark but it felt good. Active; not desolate or unsafe.

I chatted with the friendly taxi driver. A bonus of visiting Ghana is that it is an English speaking country, so it is easy to get by. Locals will often speak one or more of the 200+ local languages when talking together, but for me it was all English.

I was staying at the “Somewhere Nice” hostel (who also provided me the needed letter of invitation for my visa). I can’t recommend them enough. Great location and hang out areas both outside and in. A pool. Great breakfast. Etc. I stayed in a private room. There are dorms, but I was too old (!) to stay in them. Whatever. I’d rather have my own room anyway.

I spent the next hour sitting by the pool under tree canopy with a cigar and a cup of tea relaxing and chatting with a couple of people from Sweden who were here for work and study.

And there you have it: arrival in Ghana. I’ll end this here. The next day deserves its own post.

Africa Rwanda Uganda

Rhinoceroses in Uganda

From Jinja, I returned to Kampala, this time staying in the Kampala Boulevard Suites. A step up from my previous lodgings Kampala, but I liked it less. It was a splendidly located but completely soulless and not inexpensive business hotel. The only reason I picked it was that I could get a suite with a balcony and, given Uganda’s draconian non-smoking laws, a private balcony was the only place I could enjoy a cigar.

And my first niight there, I did just that, overlooking the snarling traffic.

For my final day in Uganda I hired a driver to take me to the Ziwa Rhinoceros wildlife reserve. It is a good day trip. It is theoretically possible to take transit to get to Ziwa, but the you would need a car to get from the road into the park.

Ziwa isn’t a zoo or a game reserve, it’s really just an outdoor area where rhinoceroses are and armed wildlife rangers guard the, from poachers. Each rhino is assigned two armed guards, whose job it is to follow them around inconspicuously at a distance and keep them safe from poaching. There is no touching the animals or disturbing them; just quiet observation from a safe distance.

When I arrived at Ziwa I, along with two other women who arrived at the same time, was assigned a guide, who walked us through the bush towards where the rhinos were, as directed by the guards over walkie talkie. As we got closer they communicated through whistles.

We came across two groups of rhinoceroses. Some were napping in the shade but the others were eating. Constantly. Fair enough; they’re the size of compact station wagons and eat grass. We got to get pretty close and just observed them in silence for about an hour. It was pretty special.

Was was not so special was when I stepped, ankle-deep, into a pile of warm rhinoceros poo in my only boots.

After the encounter we walked back, had lunch, and I returned to my hotel where much of the evening was spent cleaning my boots.

It was a good end to my short time in Uganda. It wasn’t the gorillas I had originally planned to see, but it was equally interesting. The next morning I flew back to Kigali for a couple of days and then back home.

Nothing of any particular consequence happened on the return visit to Kiglai. I just walked around, had a cigar or two and saw things I had previously seen. It doesn’t merits own post. Over all the trip to Rwanda, Uganda, and the Congo was wonderful. I was already planning my next trip on the flight home.

Africa Uganda

Jinja, Uganda

I had decided to go to Jinja. A more peaceful retreat after Kampala. Hammocks, walks, white water rafting, and the source of the River Nile (sort of). It sounded like a great way to wrap up a holiday that has been wonderful, but busy.

Getting to Jinja is easy. There is a road and various options for getting there from Kampala. There are tons of mini vans departing from Kampala Road or from the market, with touts hanging out the doors, calling out Jinja. The drive should only take about an hour, but the traffic on the narrow road invariably snarls, and the trip actually takes about 3 hours. As incredible cheap as the minivans are (a few dollars) I didn’t want to spend 3 hours crammed in with too many people, sweating. So I decided to take a taxi. It was expensive (like, $80) and I probably overpaid, but I just felt like being comfortable and it was worth it, because the drive was long and hot and I slept much of the way. (On my way back I tried what is probably the best option, which is to take the pineapple express shuttle, which leaves at set times from various hostels and hotels is comfortable and not overcrowded and is about $14.)

Arriving in Jinja I was dropped off at my lodgings, “The Source of the Smile” guesthouse. (I know, but I didn’t name it.) It felt like paradise. Behind a wall was a lovely garden area with little bungalow style rooms, each with its own outdoor seating area, as well as several common ones. A couple of hammocks. A pool. And my room was so gauzy, white, and cool. I was happy. I spent a few nights there and loved it. A perfect place to hang out.

Over the next couple of days I started to decide what I did not feel like doing. I was tired and pretty content to just walk around, drink juices, smoke cigars, and read. I didn’t feel like horseback riding or white water rafting. Plus, my cash was running a bit low at this point and I wasn’t having the best time with the ATMs. So that is basically, what I did in Jinja. I relaxed.

The walk from my guesthouse to the town area wasn’t too long and there were a number of pleasant paths, including one along a golf course that itself ran along the Nile. Apparently back when this part of the Nile was more hippo-rich, the odd hippopotamus would wander onto the course. The road was lined with palm trees filled with screeching bats.

The town of Jinja I found delightful. It is pretty quiet in most places. It has this wonderful architecture, which is very Indian in style; a bit shabby, but still full of charm. Because so many tourists go to Jinja for the outdoor activities, there are a good number of cafes and restaurants catering to them. My favourite of which is The Deli, which had a great menu of healthy food and lots of fresh juices and smoothies – and a garden patio on Main street. A great spot for writing or meeting fellow travellers, both of which I did.

I walked to the Central Market, which was bustling. Vast varieties of fruits and vegetables, meats, and fish. I felt rather conspicuous taking photos, so I went up to the second level to take some pictures looking down on the activities.

The second floor of the market was all seamstresses (tailors?) sewing clothes, all using the old style foot pedal, black sewing machines. The air had a wonderful hum from hundreds of the, machines going at once.

The only real activity I did in Jinja was I took a Nile cruise. “Cruise” might be overstating it. I was the only person on the small, wooden boat who was not working. We sailed past fishermen and past other boats, finally landing in a village in Buganda Kingdom.

The stroll around the village was great. People were friendly and children ran out (as they do) with curiosity. Many of them asked for photos and posed then laughed uproariously when I showed them the results. It is always fascinating to me to see how other people live

From there we sailed to the “source of the Nile”. This is pretty cool – the Nile being that river that captured my imagination as a child and led me in part to visit Egypt at 18 or 19 on my first solo trip. Interestingly though, the source of the Nile is just as mysterious as all it evokes. The source of the (white) Nile was a mystery for centuries. In the 1850s explorer John Hanning Speke “discovered” it in Jinja, Uganda. Today there is a sign post marking the exact spot and a statue to Mr. Speke in a garden overlooking the spot. It is pretty cool.

The thing is, since then, it was discovered that the Nile actually reached Rwanda. Then, in 2006, is was found to reach into Burundi. So the controversy and exploration continues, but all of the businesses named the “Source of the Nile” tours or cafe, etc, persist.

From the boat we watched the sun set on the Nile and Lake Victoria.

And that is how I spent a few lazy days in Jinja.

Africa Uganda

Kampala, Uganda

Kampala, Uganda. I arrived in Entebbe (the closest airport to Kampala) after a 40 minute flight from Kigali. A new country. I had already gotten my East Africa Tourist Visa so there were not formalities other than the checking of my yellow fever vaccination certificate. I took a taxi from Entebbe to Kampala, which took about an hour. Kampala is bigger than Kigali. The traffic is crazy. On the way we passed various poor areas and haphazard markets. I took a few pics from the taxi window.

Once in the city centre, Kampala is organized and busy on one side of Kampala road, and organized chaos on the other. I was staying at the Shumuk Hotel and Apartments. When we pulled up to the run down and otherwise nondescript office building I was certain we had the wrong place. There wasn’t even a sign.

But I did have the right place. It is a run down office building but with short and long term apartments for rent on the top two floors. The rooms weren’t fancy but they were clean and I had a full, small apartment. I was satisfied.

Plus, the location was great. I could walk to tons of cafes, restaurants, craft shops, and the aforementioned organized chaos. Unlike Kigali, it did not have the punishing hills.

I walked and browsed and ate. I also saw the ugliest bird I have ever seen. Hands down. The Maribou Stork. They are everywhere in Kampala. They are huge – they can have wingspans of up to 12 feet and they have these hideous faces, like bird-corpse-dinosaurs. I tried really hard to get a good picture of one, but this is the best I could get. The stupid thing kept evading my camera. If I looked like that I would do the same.

The next morning, I got up early and went for a coffee at a big Kenyan chain coffee shop. Sitting there with my Americano, who should walk in but the guy from Delhi that I had met in Goma days earlier. I know it happens, but it always surprises me to run into the same person randomly that I crossed paths with in another country. We made plans to have dinner and did indeed have an excellent dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant in a posher area of town.

In the meantime, however, I had arranged a boda boda (motorcycle) tour of Kampala through Walter’s tours, which I recommend. Kampala is short on major sights, but this takes you from place to place on a motorcycle, so you get to see a lot in a fun way.

Richard, my guide, and I went to the Bahai temple and the big mosque. At both sites I got a little more info than I needed, but they were nice buildings. At the mosque, I climbed to the top of the huge minaret in the ankle length modesty dress they outfitted me in, for the views of the city.

We went to the palace, which one cannot enter, but I got a lot of very interesting history and then walked through a beautiful garden area to Idi Amin’s torture cells.

There isn’t much to them: a concrete tunnel with rectangular cells, but they were very creepy. Hearing the stories of how many people were killed there (16k-19k) through various methods from electrocution to suffocation (from cramming people into the cells). The walls are still covered in hand prints and writings in blood, dirt, and excrement from the prisoners. And there are bats. Lots of bats. And at least one femur.

From there we went to some market areas and ended up at the old taxi park, which is a cluster of white minivans parked in am impossible tangle.

We got a seat at a cafe overlooking the taxis and the streets below, which was very interesting. Watching the vans get out, baskets of grasshopper snacks for sale, vendors of everything imaginable, and stands were people trade old/worn currency for new looking currency for status, apparently.

It was a good day. I finished up with a nice dinner with my new friend from the Congo, and finally a cigar.

At this point in the trip I had been on the go every day and it was time for some relaxation, so the next day I was going to Jinja.

Africa Democratic Republic of the Congo Rwanda

Return to Rwanda

I left the Democratic Republic of the Congo and crossed the border into Rwanda on foot using my East Africa visa, which would allow me to move back and forth between Rwanda and Uganda. The rest of the day, and the most of the rest was pleasant but unremarkable.

I did laundry at the air bnb I was staying at in Gisenyi – very necessary as I had taken on a certain odor. I lazed about in a hammock and had dinner at Cafe Calafia, my aforementioned new favourite cafe, with the cozy interior, beautiful garden exterior, and excellent menu. After that I returned to my air bnb where I walked in on (unbeknownst to my host) a tremendous bout of yelling and domestic disturbance. I’ll spare the details, but I found it quite unpleasant and so I went for a walk and then sat outside smoking a cigar with my headphones on until things subsided.

The next day I did not, as planned, take a 5 hour bus back to Kigali but opted for the 2 hour private car at 10x the price. It just sounded so much more appealing. Is this what happens as travellers get older? Do we spend some extra money for some extra comfort? I don’t like to think about it that way, but I did appreciate that I was enjoying a coffee and cigar in Kigali at a time when I would otherwise have still been on the bus.

This time in Kigali I stayed not at the Nest but at the Discover Rwanda Youth Hostel. (Applying the broad definition of “youth” apparently.) I like to try different places and explore different areas, which is why I chose the hostel. It had a swell patio for eating and chilling out with other travellers, I must admit it was not as nice as the Nest, which was about the same price.

I went for a long walk up and down Kigali’s punishing hills and ended up at a lovely cafe, where I had a cigar that I bought the previous month in El Salvador (making me feel like quite the jet setter / douchebag) and a french press of excellent coffee. Also soup.

I struck up a conversation with a girl also traveling alone who was from Washington State. We chatted and then left together, walking to a bookstore with a rooftop cafe, where we stayed until it was dark, swapping travel tales.

Unable to find a single moto driver who knew where my hostel was, I walked back in the dark (thankfully remembering my way). At the bottom of the final big hill, I did get a moto to drive me up the last bit for a few cents.

So not much happened on these days aside from transit and casual strolling, but it was most pleasant and welcome, as the next day I was off to Uganda.

Africa Democratic Republic of the Congo

Masisi, the Alps of the Congo

Following my day exploring Goma, I was collected at the Ihusi Hotel by Cide, who would be my guide and companion for the next 2 days. I had booked an overnight tour of the Masisi region of the Democratic Republic of the Congo through Kivu Travel. (Website here.) After my gorilla plans fell through (see my previous DRC post) I still wanted to see something of the Congo in the time that I had and Masisi looked amazing. And there was no way I could have managed this without having it organized through a company, as the Masisi is not exactly set up for independent travel. Kivu Travel was super helpful and kept checking in and confirming that all was well and that I was taken care of.

But before Masisi, a boat ride.

Cide dropped me off on the shores of Lake Kivu, placing me in the hands of a 4 man crew on a rather basic wooden boat. We set sail, at first past the shores of Goma, which gave a great view of the otherwise invisible posh homes, and then we sailed farther into the lake.

The plan was to visit a coffee farm, which sounded good, but mostly I just wanted to sail around. And sail we did, for about 2 hours before reaching the farm. It was very peaceful. We saw only a few small canoes type boats and a couple of ferries.

Reaching the farm, I was handed off to a fellow (whose name I cannot recall) who very carefully showed me the coffee farm and explained the process from planting to sending off for roasting. It was surprisingly interesting. I have been to coffee farms before, but they just sort of showed the trees and then explained about the different varieties. This was not a tourist show; it was an actual, working farm and I have to say that it was sobering to see how much hand labour goes in to coffee, just at the farm level. I mean, I guess I knew it, but I never really thought about it. Every single bean, hand picked, hand peeled, washed, hand sorted, dried, etc all by hand. Plus all the planting, replanting, roasting, etc.

It was really interesting and reminiscent of my rice realizations in SE Asia. For all the mechanization we have available, some things are still painstakingly made by hand.

Back in the boat, we sailed for close to 3 hours until a pretty area appeared before us, marked by Cide’s white SUV. I was deposited on the shore, where we had a picnic lunch of vegetarian sandwich, avocado, and bananas. I told Cide that in North America we are crazy for avocados and that in restaurants we will pay $10 or more for a slice of toasted bread with butter and avocado. His eyes went wide and he didn’t stop laughing for a solid minute. I can’t say I blame him.

Then we drove, higher and higher into the mountains. The landscape started out as a beautiful green patchwork of farm lands, then smoothed out into rolling, velvety hills dotted with farm animals. This is the Masisi region.

It was stunning. Like something out of a painting or a picture book. If it weren’t for the villages, which are definitely African, it could easily be the Alps.

Just when I thought I could not be any more impressed, we arrived at this charming farmhouse set on a hill overlooking the valley and with beautiful gardens. This is where I was to stay.

My room was enormous and I had a living room with a fireplace and private balcony. No electricity or internet, though they ran the generator at night for lights and the fireplaces were lit for warmth. It was so perfect.

Cide and I sat overlooking the valley and were served a teapot of warm milk from the cows below. I had a cigar.

We then walked into the valley and the village past the dairy farm, flocks of sheep, errant goats, and parades of geese. Horses grazed. People laboured. Children played and peeked curiously at me.

It was all so lovely.

The best part of the walk was visiting the home of this one grandmother who had 3 tobacco plants in her garden. Cide said she grew them for herself, to dry and smoke. She didn’t speak English or French, but Cide translated. I gave the woman one of my cigarillos. She tried it but was not impressed, saying hers was better. Her friend agreed. The woman then got some of her dried tobacco and rolled me a small one and offered it to me. It was a bit on the moist side, but was good. Cocoa-y.

After that, we returned to the house and were fed an enormous dinner. I briefly dozed by the fire and then went to bed.

The morning brought a massive breakfast with a view of the valley.

We then walked down to the dairy farm, where free roaming cows were being milked. I tried my hand at it with limited success.

From there we visited the “cheese factory” which is just two guys in two rooms making cheese without any mechanization. The cheese is good. Like a tangy gouda.

Finally we went for a walk through the main village, where we were followed by throngs of children, curious and friendly, all giving thumbs up and asking for photos, which they then looked at and laughed hysterically.

Finally, we returned to Goma and I crossed the borders back to Rwanda. It was a perfect couple of days. I liked the comparative bustle of Goma, but Masisi was magical. A peaceful mountainous dairy farming region was not what I thought of when I thought to visit the Congo, but I am glad I made my way there.

Africa Rwanda

Kigali to Gisenyi

I like taking the bus, provided it isn’t too long a journey. The bus from Kiglai to Gisenyi is only 3 hours, but after my 36 hours of travel to get to Kigali 24 hours prior, I just wanted speed and comfort. So I hired a driver and it was worth every penny spent.

The drive was magnificent. Sprawling fields and round hills in every shade of green spread out in the vista below the road, which twisted past towns, farms, and generally lush scenery. I took pictures from the car windows but occasionally asked the driver to stop for photos.

In Gisenyi (aka Rubavu) we found the Dian Fossey hotel, which was not where I am staying, but it is the best landmark from which to find my Airbnb. Unlike Kigali, Gisenyi does not (seem to) have numbered or named streets, but it is small enough that this seems manageable.

I am staying at the home of a Canadian woman who has lived in Africa for many years. I don’t feel right posting pictures of her home, but it is lovely, gated with a big yard, a friendly dog, rabbits, three decks, and hammocks. Very comfortable.

I set out to look around. Gisenyi’s appeal seems to lie primarily in is proximity to the border with the DRC and the fact that it is in a beautiful area, along the huge Lake Kivu.

The town itself is fine. Pretty streets, very green, with a nice lakeside park. Walking along the shore you can see The Congo just a short swim away.

The businessy area is interesting in a way, but not for any particular reason other than that it is a new place to explore.

I walked around and then had a glass of fresh milk at the Maison du Lait.

From there I walked along the lake and meandered around, chatting with various people, until I found the best cafe: the Cafe Calafia. Set in a charming house at the top of a small hill covered in vegetable gardens and tropical trees. Great food, wifi, and terrific outdoor seating, where I had a cigar with my smoothie. I am here again as I write this.

I went out for dinner in the evening and visited with the woman with whom I am staying. A relaxing evening. I don’t think I would recommend Gisenyi as part of a holiday unless you have a specific reason for coming here. It is nice, bit not amazing. The best part is the drive here. But I DID have a reason for coming here; and the next day I would go to Goma.

Africa Rwanda

Kigali

In Kigali, Rwanda after over 36 hours of travel. I won’t go into a great amount of detail, but my flight from Vancouver was delayed by 6 hours, which would have caused me to miss my connecting flights. The airline couldn’t get me on a new flight for 3 days, which would have derailed my whole trip, so I hastily booked the next flights I could find to get to get me to Kigali as soon as possible to when I was meant to arrive. My flights took me from Vancouver to Montreal to Casablanca to Brussels to Kigali. In Casablanca I had to run at full speed to check in and to the gate. Had I not been traveling with just a carry on I never would have made it. But I did make it. My near travel disaster reduced to mere a travel anecdote.

In Kigali at 7:00am I met briefly with the friendliest border guard ever who confirmed that I had successfully paid for my visa in advance and I was picked up by a driver from my hotel.

I was still in a bit of a dash though as I had booked a day tour of the city, which was leaving at 9:30. So I went only briefly to my hotel: a welcoming guest house called The Nest in the Nyarutarama district.

The area is really nice. Mostly semi affluent residential with restaurants dotted throughout. Super safe, excellent for walking.

I don’t usually do tours, but I was only to be in Kigali a short time and Kigali seemed difficult to navigate on foot or transit. The things I wanted to see were all spread out and the whole city covers an erratic network of steep hills, so getting shown around seemed like a great idea. The company is called Go Kigali and the day was awesome. We met at the Marriot, where I had time for a breakfast cigar before heading out. There were 5 of us that did the day tour and we had an excellent guide. It was like having friends for the day. Friends I paid to hang out with me.

Our first stop was a local milk bar. They are everywhere and serve as a centre of daily life for many people. They serve milk, fresh from local cows, milked that day or the day before. The milk is served cold, warm, or fermented. There is actually a good article about them on Culture Trip, if you want more information.

We had the cold and fermented milk. Both were delicious and tasted nothing at all like supermarket milk. The guy whose place it was owns the cows from which the milk came. Single origin milk. To be clear, I do not drink milk, other than the almond variety. It is easily 25 years since I had a glass, but it was good.

From there we went to a local market and ate passionfruit, tiny bananas, mandarins, and tree tomatos. One member of our group struggled when live poultry was shuffled past us, as she has a bird phobia. Had trouble walking past them without being shielded. In her words (more or less), birds are unpredictable and can’t look at you straight in the face, and therefore should not be trusted. It was entertaining (and the fact that I felt that way surely makes me a monster).

We drove up mount Kigali for the excellent views, but due to a sudden, short, and punishing downpour, no views were had. We went to the Gaddafi mosque and learned about how the people who took refuge there were saved during the genocide.

Lunch at a local spot consisted of green bananas cooked with peas and carrots, spinach, beans, rice, various meat and fish dishes, and mango passionfruit juice. This was followed by excellent coffee at Question Coffee, growers and roasters. Female owned and operated.

The penultimate stop was at a lake where we took a small local boat (slowing taking on water and being bailed) to a poor neighbourhood on the other side. We were asked not to take pictures when there. It was definitely poor, with mud houses and rough dirt paths on the side of a hill, but it was also clean and tidy and all the people friendly, despite us being a bunch of weirdos walking through their neighbourhood. Apparently the city is moving people out of these neighbourhoods to make way for new developments – all part of the government’s goal to clean up amd modernize the city. I don’t know if that is a good or bad thing, but I am glad that I saw it before that happens.

Finally, we went to the genocide memorial. Even knowing and having studied it, it was informative and depressing. I don’t tend to feel much when I visit monuments or memorials to human tragedy. I’m not upset or moved to tears, as some are, but it stays with me – mainly our insatiable tendency to be horrible to one another. And the fact that we never seem to learn enough to stop being horrible. As I move about the city, I find myself doing mental math, trying to estimate how old my taxi driver, guide, or guesthouse manager was in 1994. Wondering what horrors they personally experienced. Because they must have been affected by those events. But it is not the sort of thing you can ask in passing.

I parted ways from my group and went back to my neighbourhood for a walk and dinner. Kigali really is lovely and unlike other African cities I have visited. It is so clean and orderly. Sidewalks, traffic rules followed, no litter. Plastic bags banned for environmental reasons. There are women whose job it is to sweep up leaves by the roadside. Apparently it is less corrupt than many European countries. 68% of the people in its parliament are women. I’m aware there are other stories and concerns, but on its face, it is very impressive. Now, I always say that my favourite cities are messy, disorganized, and chaotic, and that is true, but Kigali is lovely. The sort of place I can imagine living. Of course, I’ve only been here 2 days.

Africa Switzerland Tunisia Tunisia Trip 2018

Forced Relaxation in Tunis & Zürich

I returned to Tunis late and awoke the next morning with the beginning of a cold. Annoying, but inevitable when traveling, I suppose. The only good things were that I really didn’t have anything I needed to do in Tunis and I was staying at a fancy hotel (as has become my way; finish the trip somewhere slightly posh). I was staying at the Hotel Royal Victoria, right at the entrance to the medina, with a view of the square form my private balcony. I had a tv and my own bathroom and hot water. Luxury!

In the morning I gorged myself on their breakfast buffet (cold be dammed, I’m not missing out on a free breakfast).

And so, it being my last day, I decided to do some shopping. I find I am less and less inclined to buy things for myself. I have nowhere to keep them and even though that [insert exotic item] might look tempting when in the souk, when I get home, the gloss is gone and I realize that the item doesn’t fit with my real life. But I did haggle my way through the market and pick up a few items to be gifted. It was fun, but my cold was getting worse and my energy wasn’t great.

Despite that, I was determined to get a good walk in, so I picked a destination – the belvedere park – it was quite a way out of the centre but a good walk through streets away from the tourist-geared cafes and shops. It just felt like a regular city.

Belvedere park is a lovely green area with a zoo, as it turned out. I’m opposed to zoos generally and felt a bit conflicted about whether or not to go, but ultimately I did. I can’t say that part of me isn’t interested in seeing the animals, but i would rather it be under different circumstances. These were animals, exotic and otherwise, in too small cages, swimming in circles, or lying listlessly. That paints maybe too bleak a picture, but it is true. I enjoyed myself anyway.

(That picture of the guy and crocodile amused me, like why would anyone need a warning not to play catch with crocodiles?)

I walked back to my hotel, went into the medina for dinner and shisha, and spent the rest of the evening watching movies on tv in my room.

I woke up at 3:30am as I had an early flight, i slept for maybe an hour, owing to a fever, crushing headache, and an inability to breathe through my nose. I flew to Zurich and walked to my airbnb lodging, not far from the main train station, between there and Kreis 5. A charming apartment called home by a boyfriend-girlfriend architect couple from eastern Europe.

I felt like garbage, but it was a gorgeous spring day, so i walked to and around Kreis 5, a sort of former warehouse type district now populated by art galleries, eateries catering to foodies, and, on the day that I was there, an urban bicycle festival and a neighbourhood yard sale. The area is quite nice. In fact, Zurich really grew on me in my last couple of days. The historic area is beautiful and great to see, but these other neighbourhoods felt more authentic and I was charmed by them. Zurich doesn’t seem to me like an exciting city, but it is very attractive and so peaceful. Everything it quiet. There are no horns honking, no radios blaring, no loud conversations, no loud transportation. It’s almost eerie, but kind of nice. There is a lot of bike riding, people having wine at cafes, and picnics. It all seems like an ideal city. It is true that i prefer my cities dirty and chaotic, but this kind of grew on me. Or maybe it was just the fever.

I didn’t really do anything, but I walked, through that area and the into the old city. I thought about hitting a cigar lounge or going for lunch somewhere quaint, but I was feeling increasingly ill so i returned to the flat in the afternoon and spent the rest of the day and night in my room, listing to podcasts and trying to sleep through what seemed to be the flu.

Being sick at the end of vacation, which always seems to happen to me, is inconvenient but in a way it is also kind of nice to be forced to spend a day or to actually relaxing, which I would not do on my travels unless forced. And the rest was just what I needed to feel better for the next day when I would go to Liechtenstein.

Africa Tunisia Tunisia Trip 2018

Departing Djerba

Day three on Djerba. I had (have) a 5:00 flight, so I just planned to have a relaxing day. Of course I woke up early with the first call to prayer announcing morning. I just lazed about. Had a slow breakfast. Decided to go on a walk. I was delighted to find that one of the main streets, which had been empty since I arrived had been transformed into a bustling marketplace that spilled out onto the side streets.

It wasn’t a touristy market, but one for locals. Shoes, clothing, fabric, pots & pans, spices…just regular stuff but it was a lot of fun to walk through. The merchants still tried to sell me their goods, usually calling out to me in Russian to catch my attention. It was the same thing in Turkey. I really should learn Russian for how often I am mistaken for a national. (Except in Ethiopia and Burkina Faso where I was often mistaken for Japanese.)

I talked with some locals who lamented the lack of tourists since the revolution. It is true that there are not a lot of them here, which has been lovely for me to avoid crowds, but it must be so difficult for the people who rely on tourists for income. Seriously, people should come here. It is beautiful and filled with history and culture. And it is easy to travel in. And cheap.

Back to the market. At the other end of the street was the —- fort sitting at the edge of the sea. I walked the ramparts and looked around before heading back to the area around my hotel. I did a little shopping, had a lunch of vegetable ragout, smoked some apple shisha, and headed to the airport.

It was a good, final day in Djerba, which I have loved. What I don’t love is that my flight back to Tunis is delayed by an hour so far, with no information as to when it will depart. This is the fifth TunisAir flight I have taken and they each have been delayed by more than one hour. Another was cancelled altogether. The airport here doesn’t exactly have amusements. One cafe with a few sad looking sandwiches. No shops. No wifi. (I will post this when I am back in Tunis.) on the plus side, I have books, music, and podcasts, and have caught up on my postcard sending. I don’t really mind the delay; I didn’t have any plans for this evening in Tunis except for enjoying my slightly posh hotel room. I shall use this time, stranded at the airport, to do what my mother would advise, which is to relish in the opportunity to relax and do nothing, for there is noting to do.

EPLIOGUE
My flight ended up bring cancelled. And so was the next one. They arranged for a new flight but not everyone could get on. Overall, I spent 8 hours at the airport. Not agony, but far from idea. I did mean a British/American woman and her Tunisian fiancé who were trying to get to Tunis for their wedding, which ensured them a spot on the plane. We also told the airport check in people that I was a bridesmaid at the wedding, which got me on the plane as well. On the plane, I learned from a Tunisian/German man that the taxis in Tunis were on strike. This would have delayed my arrival in Tunisia by hours, but the man connected me with another Tunisian man sitting in front of me, who said his wife, who was picking him up, would drive me to my hotel. And they did. Now I am in Tunis, already forgetting about the huge airport delay and looking forward to tomorrow.

Wandering North

Tag: Africa