Word Of Mouse

Secondly, it’s not actually the desert, though it is the last proper town before the desert: go any further and you’ll be out in the sand, no water, where it freezes at night in winter and is, to us, mysterious, further than mere miles might suggest. 

We got there – improbably enough – first by a longish drive in the transit to Genova (or Genoa, or Genes – suit yourself), via friends in Ivrea and Turin, and then a day with Grimaldi lines on the Victory. 

From Tunis we drove, via a night in a comfy hotel in Hammamet, and a break in El Jem where, disgracefully, we ate a snack opposite the Roman amphitheatre but didn’t actually visit it, and the excellent public art on the seafront at Mahares (another snack, in the Café du festival), to arrive only an hour late for our 5 pm appointment with chum Oliver at the m’Bil al Harem. This is also known, according to the sign on its front, as the Station Hotel, though there’s no station around unless you count the local louages (minibus taxis) that wait outside. Aram and Sarfraz, arriving by air, louage and finally taxi from Medenine, were a bit later, but still made it in time to eat. 

Tataouine, we had been warned, is hot at this time of year: in the forties. We had to lie down in the afternoons which, together with the fact that people tend not to stay out late – and some difficulties as we struggled to understand ways of working in Tunisia - meant that the working time was cut down. Despite this we managed to recruit a group of local young people and make a show together to celebrate the start of our collaboration with Etoile du Sud. This had to be shared in a private showing, since we didn’t have the relevant permission for a public performance, but it was an important moment for us all and a good start to what we hope will be an exciting and important run of projects. The participants – seventeen of ‘em, bless ‘em – were energetic, enthusiastic and committed. Pix to follow! 

There was also time to get to know the members of Etoile du Sud, mostly English teachers, welcoming, thoughtful and ready to embark on the uncharted waters of this new cultural exchange. They also proved generous hosts (thanks especially to Naima, and Ali and Nizar’s family) and did everything they could to make us feel welcome at every turn. Together we cooked up ideas for – oooh, let’s say a dozen – projects that should keep us all out of mischief. All that’s needed now is money and a spot of detailed planning. Well, nothing new there, then. 

Then – in this very short stay - there were visits to outlying areas, being serenaded by a Berber wedding band (and, later, being invited to an actual wedding, in August – wonder how hot it will be then?), eating, eating (and eating well), looking at Ksour (traditional granaries) and starting to grapple with even the simplest aspects of Arabic. 

Some recommendations: stay at the Hotel Hamza (clean, hot water, working bathrooms, friendly proprietor, tasty breakfast), eat at the Essindabad, visit a Ksar that hasn’t been cleaned up for the tourists, don’t bother with the film sets, don't wander around half-dressed in the midday sun (it's disgusting) and go to the m’Bil al Harem for mint tea and a good natter. And at least once eat a corne de gazelle – sticky nut filled pastry – with a glass of cold lemonade, though I can’t remember the name of the best shop: you’ll need to ask our friend Saad.

 Then, the long journey back, the thinking, more ideas. Well, it’s a long drive, so plenty of time. 

And back to Stoke.