I’d set our alarm for 5am as we need to be down at reception for pick up for 6:30 where apparently they’d have coffee and pastries waiting. There were quite a few people about so we played the game of trying to guess who would be going on our tour. A couple of elderly ladies went past, one sat on a mobility scooter, ‘definitely not them’ I confidently predicted.
Our coach arrived and in front of the queue was the mobility scooter! Turns out Jill (81) and Michelle (60) are mother and daughter and had confidently been told by Lee the EasyJet rep at their previous hotel (they’d been moved) that this tour was mobility friendly. They put her scooter in the coach and there it stayed for the entire 2 days completely unusable.
The coach went around a few more hotels picking up passengers. There were 10 English, all from our hotel and the rest, about 40 others, were all French including 4 from our hotel which does seem quite international. The frenchies all came from ‘family friendly’ hotels so there were quite a few children. As we’d been picked up first we’d spread ourselves out a bit which meant that we ended up being surrounded!
Infront where a couple who seemed okay, the bloke looked like Damon Hill… Damon ‘Colline’ I suppose (French joke). The rest surrounding us was a fairly large group of chav Frenchies. I’ll paint a picture of the patriarch, definitely not the father given the mixed ethnicity of the children. He was in his 40s and absolutely stank of dogends. Not smoke but that horrid ashtray smell. This was because the dirty bastard had a half smoked roll up in his hand. Small with a wiry build he was in his 40s but dressed like he was 14. He was wearing white socks with those Nike beach sandal's, black combat trousers, black baseball cap which was covered by the hood of a black Yves Saint Laurent hoodie. I know it was Yves Saint Laurent because it was written all over it in gold. A little bit of sick came up in my mouth as I recalled this. And before you ask, of course he permanently wore sunglasses no matter the time of day and had a tiny bit of beard but just on his chin.
Our guide described what we were going to be doing over the next 2 days and it was pretty full. There was a lot of coach driving which we hadn’t really thought about and in total we’d cover 1000km! We’d been told the horse carriage ride, ATVs and camels would be extra and we’d already decided we only wanted to do the ATVs but it turned out all three was just 180 dinar (about £45) for both of us so we thought why not.
As we approached our first stop, the Amphitheater at Jem, Dog End Dave decided he needed a change of outfit. Not just a hat or hoodie, a full change which he proceeded to do on the coach while it was still moving. White T-shirt, white shorts, and matching white trainers and baseball cap with gold writing all over them. What a tool! I’m guessing my exclamation of ‘What the fuck!’ crossed the language barrier because he didn’t do it again.
We’ve seen the Coliseum in Rome but in many ways this was more impressive. What it lacks in size, although it’s still big and could have held 30’000 people, it makes up for in how complete it is and how accessible it is. This is helped by the lack of crowds. I’ve left the description of it to the photos and the video, when I get around to it, should look impressive.
Outside were the normal stalls selling tat. One chap was selling those Arab scarfs (keffiyeh) or what I like to think of (in that 70s racist way) as the head tea towels. His sales tactic was to wave the scarf and a small band around shouting 1 dinar. When you go over he’ll put it on you and then demand 30 dinar because apparently just the band was 1. I’d wanted one of these when we went to Morocco so I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity. Anyone who reads my blogs knows I hate haggling but I summoned my best Drew Pritchard (Salvage Hunters) and ended up with 2 for 25 dinar. I subsequently found out that the going price for these are around 10 dinar (£2.50) so I was well cuffed, unlike the youngsters in the group who paid 20 dinar each for theirs.
Our next stop was lunch at some random hotel in the mountains. At least I think they’re mountains. We were in Berber country. The Berbers were the original occupants of North Africa and have been pushed by various invaders to live in the most inhospitable parts (mostly the mountains) and are consequently some of the poorest communities. For once this wasn’t the British fault.
After lunch, which was edible but probably not enjoyed by anyone, we were going to visit a traditional Berber home. The selling point of this is that they live in holes in the rock, have to collect rain water for drinking and are very poor. This sort of thing makes me feel very uncomfortable. If the families are genuinely poor then you’re just revelling in their misery. In the UK would you go on a tour of some destitute families council flat? I asked if the ‘donations’ the family got were shared amongst the community. They’re not so I expect the families (there are 3 of them) that ‘live’ there are doing very well. The Berbers are a genuinely poor community but there has to be a better way to help them then misery tourism.
End of part one. This is a first and I’ve not done this before but you’ll get part 2 tomorrow.
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