Bizarre

That's the only way to describe Tunis in my few hours thus far. From the Liberace fan who is in charge of most of the decorating in official areas to the weird organic odors, all variants on rotten egg with spice, to the guy operating this tiny government controlled Publinet internet room (you wouldn't believe what it looks like), to the disturbingly odd American pop song that is on repeat. It is nuts. People leaving in a city that has the infrastructure of a capital, but it's just a skeleton. Even the streets seem to wide given the volume of traffic. There's an absence of a lot of typical visual stimuli: not nearly as many billboards or obnoxious advertisements, but it goes beyond that. The city seems to be oddly unadorned...and I am referring to the city center and the main blvd which I have driven the length of.

Which brings me to my next story: the cab from the airport. At some point on the plane flight (which was an experience in itself...you'll love the pictures of what they served on the one hour flight), I decided to have some huevos and try to use a cab instead of the bus. Everything's a lot cheaper here, so it makes much more sense, especially given that I was coming in after dark. No sooner did I clear customs than a man offered to take my bag and take me to his taxi.

And just like that he had me...all the while I was thinking he was a nice guy. Then, I got in the taxi. As soon as the door closed, was talking a thousand miles a minute trying to convince me to go Hammamet, an hour's drive away. I understood his game, but my refusals weren't strong enough at first and it took me close to ten minutes not to drive me anywhere but the Maison Doree, a cheap hotel in the center of town. We finally departed...after driving in silence for all of two minutes he sprung his fare on me...triple what the guidebook said was typical even for an exorbitant jerk. We had a rather manic exchange in French (oh yeah, thanks to the Frogs' colonial ambitions, the lingua franca for communicating with Westerners is, well, French. Go figure). I recalled enough of Mr. Ebiner's class to call my cabbie crazy and mutter awkwardly that he "had no head."

When I got out at the hotel, I handed him ten dinars and walked away ignoring his pathetic cries for a couple more dinars for a coffee. Considering that was still double the usual fare (though not the triple he'd asked for) I'm sure he cried all the way to the bank. I just take comfort in saving a sliver of face by only getting ripped off, not taken to the cleaners.

Just to clarify, right now the dinar is about 1.5 to the euro...I couldn't tell you what it is to the dollar.

Anyway the Hotel Maison Doree is the oldest operating Hotel in the city and it has certainly seen better days. But the price is right and the rooms are actually better than even Hotel Metropolis, so I'm not about to complain. Even the putrid egg smell (which isn't exactly offensive...more startling than anything else) doesn't really reach up to my room. And I've got a little balcony to boot with a sweet view.

So, all is well. This beats the tar out of backpacking if you ask me. I definitely wish I had someone to travel with me (Lord knows I do...he's been burdened by my griping about it more than anyone), but as I was thinking the other day, it's better to travel alone than not at all and about fifteen to twenty percent of the time, I'm having experiences that make me glad that I am on my own and can change plans on a whim.

Well, that's it for now. I'm going to grab a snack and save the medina, Carthage, and Sidi Bou Said for tomorrow and the following days. I do know, that this promises to be an adventure that will blow past challenging experiences out of the water. Fortunately, I'm looking forward to it and getting more optimistic with every whiff of that weird egg smell.