JAWORSKI TRAVELS
We live our lives forever taking leave - Rilke
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Tuesday, 30 December 2008
Monday, December 29/2008
Cyprus's mild version of winter - temperatures in mid to high tens Celsius and the occasional shower. Euronews shows only European weather, the camera moving across the map at a speed that makes focus a tricky eye exercise. BBC World attempts to cover the whole world in the same inadequate time, so that North America is represented by little more than half a dozen cities. The two chosen Canadian cities are Winnipeg and Quebec, an odd choice but reasonably interesting for us. Presumably Winnipeg occupies a spot on the map for which there is little competition.
Monday, 29 December 2008
Sunday, December 28/2008
Lazy day for us, but we're an hour away from Gaza (by air) and the utter misery is intensifying as the Israelis play tough for a pre-election audience.
Nice bits of year end retrospectives beginning. Gwynne Dyer's look at the year in today's Cyprus Mail is disappointingly thin on analysis - looks like he suddenly realised it had to be done by five o'clock - but BBC World shows some of its best documentaries of the year, including a couple of excellent ones on China, a contry that has changed enormously in the almost 20 years since we were there.
Nice bits of year end retrospectives beginning. Gwynne Dyer's look at the year in today's Cyprus Mail is disappointingly thin on analysis - looks like he suddenly realised it had to be done by five o'clock - but BBC World shows some of its best documentaries of the year, including a couple of excellent ones on China, a contry that has changed enormously in the almost 20 years since we were there.
Saturday, December 27/2008
Coffee with Maggi at the market - a smaller market for the Christmas meal but we don't need anything. Then in the afternoon we walk out to M&M's. The road has been eroded a bit by the sea during the last storm - undercut as well? G&T, melon and parma ham on the balcony overlooking the sea. It's hot as long as the sun lasts.
Woolworth stores in the UK began closing their doors today, early victims of the recession. They've had a long history. My father used to tell us about going to Woolworth's with his brothers and sister to buy Christmas presents. They would take turns having one wait while the other four went to buy his presents.
Woolworth stores in the UK began closing their doors today, early victims of the recession. They've had a long history. My father used to tell us about going to Woolworth's with his brothers and sister to buy Christmas presents. They would take turns having one wait while the other four went to buy his presents.
Saturday, 27 December 2008
Friday, December 26/2008
Boxing Day and would have been my grandfather's birthday - I think his hundred and twenty third. He never knew any of his grandchildren and we have - the oldest grandchildren at least - a few distilled sayings and memories of him through our parents. In the Depression, for example, he wouldn't let his sons caddy because there were grown men trying to feed their families by caddying. It was also Grandpa who, early in his marriage, made the mistake of telling my grandmother that the cake she had just made was as good as a store-bought one.
Shops closed and we, like many others, tourists and locals alike, walk along the beach front promenade (named Finoukides after the date palms that line it) and the pier. It's warm in the sun and everyone from babies to grandparents is out, the children displaying Christmas presents. A little girl is unsteady on her new roller skates and helium balloons in animal shapes are much in display. Popcorn, roasted corn on the cob and ice cream on sale. One brave man goes for a swim. The water is probably quite warm, but there is a bit of breeze across the beach.
We stop to examine the new large abstract sculpture at the pier end of the beach. Tell me, I say, that it isn't something horrible like a monument memorialising victims of some Turkish atrocity. Well, not quite - but sort of. It's not Cypriot victims anyway. Loath to miss any chance to demonise the Turks, the southern Cypriots have erected a monument in memory of the victims of the Turkish massacre of the Armenians. It's true, of course, that the massacre occured, though not recently and true that Turkey has not taken responsibility and that many Armenians took refuge in cyprus - but all the same it seems like an opportunity they just couldn't let pass. But there is also on display along the walk winning entries from a Cypriot art contest with multicultural emphasis. Some quite impressive works and a sign of hope. They don't seem to attract as much attention as the sculpture though.
Shops closed and we, like many others, tourists and locals alike, walk along the beach front promenade (named Finoukides after the date palms that line it) and the pier. It's warm in the sun and everyone from babies to grandparents is out, the children displaying Christmas presents. A little girl is unsteady on her new roller skates and helium balloons in animal shapes are much in display. Popcorn, roasted corn on the cob and ice cream on sale. One brave man goes for a swim. The water is probably quite warm, but there is a bit of breeze across the beach.
We stop to examine the new large abstract sculpture at the pier end of the beach. Tell me, I say, that it isn't something horrible like a monument memorialising victims of some Turkish atrocity. Well, not quite - but sort of. It's not Cypriot victims anyway. Loath to miss any chance to demonise the Turks, the southern Cypriots have erected a monument in memory of the victims of the Turkish massacre of the Armenians. It's true, of course, that the massacre occured, though not recently and true that Turkey has not taken responsibility and that many Armenians took refuge in cyprus - but all the same it seems like an opportunity they just couldn't let pass. But there is also on display along the walk winning entries from a Cypriot art contest with multicultural emphasis. Some quite impressive works and a sign of hope. They don't seem to attract as much attention as the sculpture though.
Thursday, December 25/2008
Christmas Day. Traditional and not. We go to Mass in the moroning, stopping for koulouri at the bakery on the way back. Bakeries and news stands are open (and newspapers published) but not much else. No one condemned to day old bread or news.
J has outlined a Christmas tree shape about five feet high on the front of the wardrobe using tinsel made from silver paper donated by Maggi. He's "hung" baubles (saved from last year) on it with bluetack, decorated it with curls of paper chain and cut a gold star for the top - and all of this in two halves so that the wardrobe doors still open. He's also draped coloured foil curls and balls made from chocolate wrapper across the arch in the middle of the room and we have a couple of christmas posters, full broadsheet size, courtesy of the December 10 and 11 Guardians. As well as our menorah style five candle wrought iron candelabra that J rescued from the street two years ago.
M&M to dinner for what is now our 7th Christmas together. This time we have a leg of lamb, largely because it works better with the large pot but no oven facilities. And because Cypriot lamb is so good. Just after the vegetables are on the table and J is finishing making the gravy, the two burner hot plate blows, audibly. As Maggi says, pretty good timing. Dinner is done, and we can still make the brandy sauce and heat the Christmas pudding in the microwave. Lovely lamb and good company.
J has outlined a Christmas tree shape about five feet high on the front of the wardrobe using tinsel made from silver paper donated by Maggi. He's "hung" baubles (saved from last year) on it with bluetack, decorated it with curls of paper chain and cut a gold star for the top - and all of this in two halves so that the wardrobe doors still open. He's also draped coloured foil curls and balls made from chocolate wrapper across the arch in the middle of the room and we have a couple of christmas posters, full broadsheet size, courtesy of the December 10 and 11 Guardians. As well as our menorah style five candle wrought iron candelabra that J rescued from the street two years ago.
M&M to dinner for what is now our 7th Christmas together. This time we have a leg of lamb, largely because it works better with the large pot but no oven facilities. And because Cypriot lamb is so good. Just after the vegetables are on the table and J is finishing making the gravy, the two burner hot plate blows, audibly. As Maggi says, pretty good timing. Dinner is done, and we can still make the brandy sauce and heat the Christmas pudding in the microwave. Lovely lamb and good company.
Wednesday, December 24/2008
Christmas Eve. There is a Christmas farmers' market today, and the rain has stopped, but we head north instead to Carrefour and collect a few more bits for dinner tonight and tomorrow. The queues are horrific, especially at the butcher's counter - easily fifteen people deep. At Prinos greengrocers I watch a young mother hand her daughter, aged maybe 4, a juicy peach as a reward for watching the shopping basket in the queue and am not sure whether I am more shocked by the casual acquisition without payment of a large out-of-season fruit on behalf of a child or by her handing the girl unwashed fruit to eat. I tell Joe, who says he just watched a woman in the supermarket put in her cart a carton of coke with attached free toy bus. She then tore the bus out of its plastic, handed it to her young son, and returned the coke to the shelf.
Lovely walk back. The rain has freshened things up and we pass bouganvillea, and flower beds, trees laden with oranges and palms swaying in the breeze. Very busy with traffic backed up and store aisles jammed with shoppers.
Christmas for me begins with the broadcast live of the nine lessons and carols from King's college, Cambridge. Or does when we're in this part of the world, anyway. In central Canada it would be at 9 a.m. but here it starts at five pm, always with a single boy soprano singing the first verse of Once in Royal David's City. They've been holding the service for 90 years and every year since 1932, with one exception, the radio World Service has carried it live. Time to sit down, pour a drink, and know that Christmas has begun. King's College chapel itself (not that it shows, this being radio) is lovely - a Gothic chapel dating back to Henry VI, and memories of it mingle with the music.
And on a more secular plane we pick up, later in the evening Ricky Gervais in some slightly edgy comedy with Swedish subtitles on the Swedish chanel.
Lovely walk back. The rain has freshened things up and we pass bouganvillea, and flower beds, trees laden with oranges and palms swaying in the breeze. Very busy with traffic backed up and store aisles jammed with shoppers.
Christmas for me begins with the broadcast live of the nine lessons and carols from King's college, Cambridge. Or does when we're in this part of the world, anyway. In central Canada it would be at 9 a.m. but here it starts at five pm, always with a single boy soprano singing the first verse of Once in Royal David's City. They've been holding the service for 90 years and every year since 1932, with one exception, the radio World Service has carried it live. Time to sit down, pour a drink, and know that Christmas has begun. King's College chapel itself (not that it shows, this being radio) is lovely - a Gothic chapel dating back to Henry VI, and memories of it mingle with the music.
And on a more secular plane we pick up, later in the evening Ricky Gervais in some slightly edgy comedy with Swedish subtitles on the Swedish chanel.
Tuesday, December we/2008
The television weather map of the Mediterranean shows the eastern end concealed by bluish cloud. It's not a satellite map - just a representation - but it matches the alternate drizzle and heavy showers that happen.
Tuesday, 23 December 2008
Monday, December 23/2008
Wake to the swish of cars driving on wet road. It's rained in the night, though not enough to do a great deal of good. Cypriot reservoirs are said to be at 3% of capacity and progress with desalination plants hopelessly behind. More rain, and hail and wind, in late afternoon, with attendant damage and flooding. As always, the storm sewers here are completely inadequate. so much of the rain that falls is wasted.
There's a Christmas concert on tonight. It's free and the standard is usually pretty high, but given the uncertainty of the weather and the certainty of flooded streets we give it a miss.
There's a Christmas concert on tonight. It's free and the standard is usually pretty high, but given the uncertainty of the weather and the certainty of flooded streets we give it a miss.
Monday, 22 December 2008
Sunday, December 21/2008
Last Sunday in Advent. At Mass there are two separate, though intermingled groups. The Europeans - mostly English or Irish expats with a sprinkling of Italians, Poles and others - and the Asians - mostly Filippino or, in lesser numbers, Sri Lankan, household help. While clearly in the laid back european camp ourselves, it's hard not to admire the liveliness, enthusiasm and open affection of the Filippinas especially. They don't make much money here, are often badly treatd by their employers, and, in many cases, have left small children behind with grandparents as they search for jobs that will allow them to send money home but the hug as they meet, sway to the music and are all smiles. It's very humbling.
Find a Chinese delivery menu that had been thrust into my hand on the street. See that it features "pecking duck with 4 pancakes," "half pecking duck" and "whole pecking duck," at eight euros fifty-five, sixteen euros ninety and thirty-three euros thirty respectively. For those feeling peckish?
Find a Chinese delivery menu that had been thrust into my hand on the street. See that it features "pecking duck with 4 pancakes," "half pecking duck" and "whole pecking duck," at eight euros fifty-five, sixteen euros ninety and thirty-three euros thirty respectively. For those feeling peckish?
Saturday, December 20/2008
The American Academy has a car boot sale in the morning. Pick up 4 paperbacks for a euro. Then market for oranges, cucumber, courgettes, cauliflower, kohlrabi and eggs. Coffee there with M&M. Good Cypriot coffee with the glass of water on the side and a nice breeze blowing.
In the afternoon to Carrefour. Still getting stocked up. Last time J spotted a Cypriot woman checking out the liquor. She opened the caps of two different fancy for Christmas bottles of vodka, sniffed them, returned them to the shelf, and bought neither. Today we check the meat counter. There's a sign with a price for lamb, but all that appears at that point under the glass counter is thirteen sad looking sheep's heads, eyes glazed, and beside them a pile of miscellaneous offal. No sign of the better bits. What would one do with a sheep's head if one were inclined to cook it? Not that I am.
At Prinos, the greengrocer across the road I get a huge bunch of dill - almost the size of the bouquets of roses in grad photos - as well as lemon, garlic, and onion. A man comes over to offer me a small white paper bag. Turns out to contain 5 hot chestnuts that he's just been roasting, so J and I stop at a park bench to eat them while they're still hot.
BBC World TV shows a circle of policemen surrounding the Christmas tree in Syntagma Square, central Athens. Its predecessor was burned by rioters and t he protests continue. We have fond memories of sitting in Syntagma Square in mid-December the year we retired, pleased that we could leave our jackets open in the winter sun (before we'd first come to shirt sleeve Cyprus). It seemed so exotic then seeing both Christmas lights and oranges on the trees of the square. Now, unfortunately, we've become blind to the miracle, walking past laden orange trees in December without really seeing them.
In the afternoon to Carrefour. Still getting stocked up. Last time J spotted a Cypriot woman checking out the liquor. She opened the caps of two different fancy for Christmas bottles of vodka, sniffed them, returned them to the shelf, and bought neither. Today we check the meat counter. There's a sign with a price for lamb, but all that appears at that point under the glass counter is thirteen sad looking sheep's heads, eyes glazed, and beside them a pile of miscellaneous offal. No sign of the better bits. What would one do with a sheep's head if one were inclined to cook it? Not that I am.
At Prinos, the greengrocer across the road I get a huge bunch of dill - almost the size of the bouquets of roses in grad photos - as well as lemon, garlic, and onion. A man comes over to offer me a small white paper bag. Turns out to contain 5 hot chestnuts that he's just been roasting, so J and I stop at a park bench to eat them while they're still hot.
BBC World TV shows a circle of policemen surrounding the Christmas tree in Syntagma Square, central Athens. Its predecessor was burned by rioters and t he protests continue. We have fond memories of sitting in Syntagma Square in mid-December the year we retired, pleased that we could leave our jackets open in the winter sun (before we'd first come to shirt sleeve Cyprus). It seemed so exotic then seeing both Christmas lights and oranges on the trees of the square. Now, unfortunately, we've become blind to the miracle, walking past laden orange trees in December without really seeing them.
Friday, December 19/2008
Maggi and I have a drink at the little market cafe with her friend Dino, a British born Cypriot. We drink zivania, a clear Cypriot liquor. I've had it before but this is nicer. Zivania in one glass and ice water for diluting it in the other. Still shirt sleeve weather, so lovely for outside cafes.
Stop at the Frangiorgio and collect the Christmas card Rachel and Dave have sent with Kieran and Katy's school pictures, both of which turned out really well. There's a broken cable beneath the Mediterranean, affecting both internet and telephone communication. It's somewhere near Alexandria but affecting countries as far away as Singapore. Hard to know what the local effect is - it could easily be confused with the usual apalling performance.
Stop at the Frangiorgio and collect the Christmas card Rachel and Dave have sent with Kieran and Katy's school pictures, both of which turned out really well. There's a broken cable beneath the Mediterranean, affecting both internet and telephone communication. It's somewhere near Alexandria but affecting countries as far away as Singapore. Hard to know what the local effect is - it could easily be confused with the usual apalling performance.
Friday, 19 December 2008
Thursday, December 18/2008
Pre-Christmas sales at the supermarkets and we get our exercise as they're not all in the same direction and none are very close. The priorities are interesting. Carrefour's flyer, for example, has 13 pages of food ads, 13 pages of wine and liquor ads, and 5 pages of miscellaneous - soap, ipods, whatever. Anything with sugar is ridiculously expensive, but alcohol often quite cheap - e.g.700 ml. Drambuie at ten euros forty-five cents or a litre of local vodka at five euros fifty cents.
Wednesday, December 17/2008
M&M drop in for tea in the morning so Magne gets to see our studio as well. Maggi says temperatures have been so warm that there are snake warnings out. Datime temperatures about 22 in the shade, much warmer in the sun, and the snakes have not hibernated as usual. Contrast with the -35 and wind chill warning in Sioux Lookout when I checked at the internet yesterday. The bad part is the drought. Our hotel is only granted water from the municipality 3 days a week. The rest it brings in by tanker. Local residents have similar problems - water rationed and not available every day.
Wednesday, 17 December 2008
Tuesday, December 16/2008
Meet Maggi at student internet. Had forgotten how maddening it is. Three out of four computers "working" though unbelievably slowly and with periodic crashes and, in at least one case, a mouse that leaves the user feeling neurologically disabled. Increasingly frantic attempts have slow and inconsistent results. Astonishingly little achieved in half an hour, which is the maximum allowed, regardless of whether anyone is waiting for a computer or not. Sourpuss, in charge today, takes a particular grim pleasure in pointing out that one's time is up.
Haircut in the afternoon, put off since back in tunisia. I wait for the man who usually does it well. Not a lot of language in common so it's a more unnerving prospect than usual. Show him 2 fingers shorter and say "layer." He nods and sets to work. Basic "shorter" don and he explains that he will now "layer everything." I have horrible visions of a vicious shingling, but it's fine. He's never given me a bad cut - though the price is creeping up. Nine euros now, and the euro itself is creeping up. Worth roughly $1.50 when we went to Paris, it's now $1.70
Haircut in the afternoon, put off since back in tunisia. I wait for the man who usually does it well. Not a lot of language in common so it's a more unnerving prospect than usual. Show him 2 fingers shorter and say "layer." He nods and sets to work. Basic "shorter" don and he explains that he will now "layer everything." I have horrible visions of a vicious shingling, but it's fine. He's never given me a bad cut - though the price is creeping up. Nine euros now, and the euro itself is creeping up. Worth roughly $1.50 when we went to Paris, it's now $1.70
Monday, December 15/2008
Wake up in our new home. No couch here, but there are 2 armchairs and a proper kitchen table with 4 upholstered chairs, and lots of light. Maybw we were lucky to have the bed beetles as an excuse.
Free bottle of wine at Metro with 65 euro purchase, but we don't have a hope of carrying that much. Must be at least a kilometre. Would have gone on to the student internet but Maggi texts to say that it's closed for the funeral of former president Papadopoulos. Never speak ill of the dead, but he, an old EOKA man, did as much as humanly possible to prevent the reintegration of south and north cyprus, spending his presidency persuuading the citizens that whatever they were offered they deserved better.
Free bottle of wine at Metro with 65 euro purchase, but we don't have a hope of carrying that much. Must be at least a kilometre. Would have gone on to the student internet but Maggi texts to say that it's closed for the funeral of former president Papadopoulos. Never speak ill of the dead, but he, an old EOKA man, did as much as humanly possible to prevent the reintegration of south and north cyprus, spending his presidency persuuading the citizens that whatever they were offered they deserved better.
Sunday, Deember 14/2008
Mass at 9:30 with the usual enthusiastic Filippino singing. Father Wilhelm, giving communion, says "the body of Christ" in Polish, so back home.
After brunch we decide to make the move. Frangiorgio not exactly happy and suggest that on the daily rather than long term plan we owe them money on top of the deposit from last spring. But after the bugs they're not in a strong position and we call it quits. Do a flit, as the Scots say, to the Kition, fortunately only two blocks away. Maggi, out for a bike ride, comes to help. There's our suitcases, a bit of food and the three goxes we left in the storeroom last March, as yet unpacked. We'd also left a drying rack for clothes and a wheeled cart, both scrounged/inherited. Dryer there, wheels gone - taken by someone who must have taken some time to untape our name. Good thing it's only two blocks.
But our new home is light, happy and warm, and we're instantly glad we've made the move.
After brunch we decide to make the move. Frangiorgio not exactly happy and suggest that on the daily rather than long term plan we owe them money on top of the deposit from last spring. But after the bugs they're not in a strong position and we call it quits. Do a flit, as the Scots say, to the Kition, fortunately only two blocks away. Maggi, out for a bike ride, comes to help. There's our suitcases, a bit of food and the three goxes we left in the storeroom last March, as yet unpacked. We'd also left a drying rack for clothes and a wheeled cart, both scrounged/inherited. Dryer there, wheels gone - taken by someone who must have taken some time to untape our name. Good thing it's only two blocks.
But our new home is light, happy and warm, and we're instantly glad we've made the move.
Saturday, December 13/2008
Market morning, and on the way over we meet Dougie, the bus driver, who asks how we're settling in - we spare him the details - and says he's brought Maggie and Magne in. If Cyprus is, as J contends, a tribal society, it's nice to be in Dougie's tribe.
Cyprus coffee with M and M in a litle corner behind the market. Near the rubbish piles, but sunny, nice management, good company and good coffee. Then the basics - if we manage to move we don't want too much to carry. So a couple of onions and some tiny tomatoes and the rest from Carrefour in the afternoon.
Cyprus coffee with M and M in a litle corner behind the market. Near the rubbish piles, but sunny, nice management, good company and good coffee. Then the basics - if we manage to move we don't want too much to carry. So a couple of onions and some tiny tomatoes and the rest from Carrefour in the afternoon.
Friday, December 12/2008
So after coffee the agenda becomes a search for alternate accommodation. We're a bit put out because the promised CNN has disappeared from the TV offerings. Not our favourite chanel by any means, but still constant English language news, which is in short supply here. There's also a separate charge for heat that was not the case when we booked, and heat is a definite necessit in a north facing flat - and in the evening anyway. But the creepy crawlies are the biggest concern.
Check at the Achilleos and at Petrou Brothers. Achilleos ridiculously overpriced and Petrou sparkling clean, professionally run and with good TV, but still pretty high, as always. Off to M and M's for lunch - after telling Francis at the Frangiorgio about the bugs. Apologies, new flat - next door - OK not to move until after lunch - which we discreetly refer to as an appointment.
So lovely and welcome interlude with M and M, gin and tonics, spaghetti bolognaise and mince pies with custard - and lots of catch up talk and laughter.
Walk back along the seafront and, seeing the Kition Hotel, decide to check. The manager is in at 7:30 and we look at two studios. There is a one bedroom but its fairly expensive. The studio is a last minute bit of inspiration but proves to be lovely - 3rd floor corner and 3 large windows and two patio doors to a balcony gong the full length of the studio. Tons of light and a penthouse feel. It's not large and storage is pretty limited but we're taken with it - and it does have BBC. Forty euros more than the Frangiorgio. So back to think it over.
No bugs in new Frangiorgio apartment.
Check at the Achilleos and at Petrou Brothers. Achilleos ridiculously overpriced and Petrou sparkling clean, professionally run and with good TV, but still pretty high, as always. Off to M and M's for lunch - after telling Francis at the Frangiorgio about the bugs. Apologies, new flat - next door - OK not to move until after lunch - which we discreetly refer to as an appointment.
So lovely and welcome interlude with M and M, gin and tonics, spaghetti bolognaise and mince pies with custard - and lots of catch up talk and laughter.
Walk back along the seafront and, seeing the Kition Hotel, decide to check. The manager is in at 7:30 and we look at two studios. There is a one bedroom but its fairly expensive. The studio is a last minute bit of inspiration but proves to be lovely - 3rd floor corner and 3 large windows and two patio doors to a balcony gong the full length of the studio. Tons of light and a penthouse feel. It's not large and storage is pretty limited but we're taken with it - and it does have BBC. Forty euros more than the Frangiorgio. So back to think it over.
No bugs in new Frangiorgio apartment.
Thursday, December 11/2008
Up at 4:40 and mini cab to Heathrow 5 - 23 pounds, a fraction more than our joint train and tube fares from Gatwick. Heathrow 5 huge and glitzy but no long queues. Amazingly long bus ride out to the plane though, feels like heading for another town. SMall delay while they find and unload the cases of two people who have not shown for the flight. Undoubtedly not terrorists but Cypriots, who very frequently come late and with staggering amounts of hand luggage, used, we suspect, to a system that runs less on rules than on favours. Huge brunch and lovely crew, especially the young man wh hands us each an extra brandy, saying in confidential tones "one is never enough, is it?" He'd also come up with larger cups for coffee at breakfast with similar sympathetic clucking. BA seems no longer to run to newspapers, but this time we're prepared and have exchanged our overweight British coins for three newspapers in preparation. And the flight's half empty so there's lots of room to spread out and read them.
Maggi meets us at the gate so hugs and then we're just in time to get the bus in. Dougie, the bus driver is into high welcome too, with a handshake for J and kisses - les deux smack - for me. And he refuses to take any fare - oh not the first time!
Out to get enough for a meal of the beans on toast and cheap wine variety. I'm fairly early to bed with The Times - and then the discovery. First a small beele, about the size of a ladybug, crawls past - but perhaps it fell off the newspaper? But there are more. Two or three at a time, clearly visible against the white sheets, appearing endlessly from where - the mattress, the carpet? A half dozen of them, when squished in a bit of toilet paper, have mosquiteo sized amounts of what can only be human blood, though we're not aware of being bitten.
Maggi meets us at the gate so hugs and then we're just in time to get the bus in. Dougie, the bus driver is into high welcome too, with a handshake for J and kisses - les deux smack - for me. And he refuses to take any fare - oh not the first time!
Out to get enough for a meal of the beans on toast and cheap wine variety. I'm fairly early to bed with The Times - and then the discovery. First a small beele, about the size of a ladybug, crawls past - but perhaps it fell off the newspaper? But there are more. Two or three at a time, clearly visible against the white sheets, appearing endlessly from where - the mattress, the carpet? A half dozen of them, when squished in a bit of toilet paper, have mosquiteo sized amounts of what can only be human blood, though we're not aware of being bitten.
Wednesday, December 10/2008
D-Day. And a few auf widersehn's (sp?). J talks to our friend of flood night, who says that he makes 3 winter trips - to Tunisia, Egypt and Turkey - going back to Germany in between. British Air allows seat selection online 24 hours before departure. Useless yesterday as the internet was closed for the holiday. They're not open today when I check at 9 and 9:30, but are at 10, giving me time to pick good seats on tomorrow morning's flight, though no time to see about today's, which matters less as they're all in banks of 3 anyway.
The transfer is there promptly at 10:30. We're alone in the van until Hammamet, where we pick up another half dozen holiday makers. Past olive groves, in some of which there's a bit of picking going on, with blankets spread on the ground, as efficient a collection method as any. Sheep and goats graze, often it seems on nothing but sand. There's a fair bit of land reclamation going on, tree planting to stop the erosion of grassless wastes. The settled areas are spreading with a lot of buildings in the local mud brick, looking half finished as further storeys are added as money allows, leaving many people living in what looks like - but isn't - bombed out ruins. Gardens and groves are often fenced in quite effectively with cactus plants.
No queue at the airport and no one mentions the fact - or used to be fact - that one is not supposed to leave with Tunisian dinars. We've got a very few and I'm hoping for something in the way of reading material, even old. But once through security - no questions re liquids, mobiles, etc - there's only the big Duty Free with ridiculous prices. Gin about the same in euros as Air Canada charges in dollars. Do you take all currencies? Not dinars. Pounds, euros, dollars? Oh yes.
In the departure lounge a young Asian woman walks round with what looks like a menu, but what's on offer is Chinese massage, behind a not particularly concealing screen in what looks like a nor particularly comfortable chair. Ten euro for ten minutes.
An hour's wait at Gatwick for the luggage, then train to Farringdon and tube to west Harrow. There's frost (snow?) in trace amounts on the platform, but cosy, warm, and a bottle of wine and some Bombay mix waiting at Jean's, to say nothing of a warm welcome.
The transfer is there promptly at 10:30. We're alone in the van until Hammamet, where we pick up another half dozen holiday makers. Past olive groves, in some of which there's a bit of picking going on, with blankets spread on the ground, as efficient a collection method as any. Sheep and goats graze, often it seems on nothing but sand. There's a fair bit of land reclamation going on, tree planting to stop the erosion of grassless wastes. The settled areas are spreading with a lot of buildings in the local mud brick, looking half finished as further storeys are added as money allows, leaving many people living in what looks like - but isn't - bombed out ruins. Gardens and groves are often fenced in quite effectively with cactus plants.
No queue at the airport and no one mentions the fact - or used to be fact - that one is not supposed to leave with Tunisian dinars. We've got a very few and I'm hoping for something in the way of reading material, even old. But once through security - no questions re liquids, mobiles, etc - there's only the big Duty Free with ridiculous prices. Gin about the same in euros as Air Canada charges in dollars. Do you take all currencies? Not dinars. Pounds, euros, dollars? Oh yes.
In the departure lounge a young Asian woman walks round with what looks like a menu, but what's on offer is Chinese massage, behind a not particularly concealing screen in what looks like a nor particularly comfortable chair. Ten euro for ten minutes.
An hour's wait at Gatwick for the luggage, then train to Farringdon and tube to west Harrow. There's frost (snow?) in trace amounts on the platform, but cosy, warm, and a bottle of wine and some Bombay mix waiting at Jean's, to say nothing of a warm welcome.
Tuesday, December 9/2008
Phone after breakfast to confirm the transfer for tomorrow. AOK. A few more cafes and shops are open today, though by no means everything. Sort of a Boxing Day selection. Internet closed though. Stil a small amount of lamb's blood in the gutter.
Packing night. Leaving Newsweek and Mrs. McGinty Est Mort *the Agatha Christie in French translation I've just finished reading( at the hotel. But what about the others? All very well to say, to begin with, that we can leave them behind, but when it comes to it I hate seeing books consigned to the rubbish bin. They're not ideal ones to find a home for here either. Mordecai Richler's St. Urbain's Horseman would simply be considered pornography in a country where it is forbidden to access hotmail on the internet. As for the other two, a travel book featuring Central Asia and the biography of a Trappist monk are probably minority taste and tough going for most Arabic speakers. But they're too heavy to take.
Packing night. Leaving Newsweek and Mrs. McGinty Est Mort *the Agatha Christie in French translation I've just finished reading( at the hotel. But what about the others? All very well to say, to begin with, that we can leave them behind, but when it comes to it I hate seeing books consigned to the rubbish bin. They're not ideal ones to find a home for here either. Mordecai Richler's St. Urbain's Horseman would simply be considered pornography in a country where it is forbidden to access hotmail on the internet. As for the other two, a travel book featuring Central Asia and the biography of a Trappist monk are probably minority taste and tough going for most Arabic speakers. But they're too heavy to take.
Tuesday, 16 December 2008
Monday, December 8/2008
The dining room looks like a series of short stories in the making. There are the four people at the next table, all German, who look like two sisters, the husband of one of them and a friend or possible sister-in-law. They seem on quite friendly terms but appear to be on independent schedules, arriving for meals singly and leaving when finished, regardless of whether they leave a lone person eating. The diets range from that of the one we call Jane (because of her resemblance to Jane McGill), who eats enormous amounts of salad and fruit but little or no meat, to that of the sister-in-law character, a large blonde woman, immaculately dressed, with a cane and a taste for comfort food, who keeps a plastic bag in her handbag to load with pastries at dinner. And the couple at the next table - she middleaged, a plump, wistful redhead who always says good morning in German and he an Arab, German speaking, but possibly a local, a little younger than she - and not always there at meals. She wears no rings, and she's happier when he shows up for meals, which he does more tha half the time, sometimes at breakfast. And the story is?
Out for a walk and the city is utterly deserted and shuttered, apart from the magnificent tomb of former president Bourguiba, where we seem to coincide with some Bourguiba family members. The tomb looks a bit like the Taj mahal, and is at the end of a quarter km walk made of paving stones. On each side of the walk there is a cemetery. Quite interesting, with rectangular white sarcophagi marking each burial spot - the richest of them in white marble, most in white concrete, and the occasional one in white tile. One is actually in chequered blue and white tile. There's no surrounding grass, just earth, butmany of the white coffin sized rectangles have sprigs of green leaf on top. There's the odd tourist and very few locals, but nothing open. Then, at the marina hotel complex, we spot a shop saying closed Sunday-Monday-Tuesday. TUrns out it's Eid, the feast commemorating God's sparing of Ishmael (Isaac in the Judaeo-Christian tradition), celebrated with each family killing a lamb - and we remember that the gutters were, as we set out, running red. We had joked about its being blood. No wonder the sheep I saw Saturday was so reluctant to accompany the woman.
In the evening the bubbly woman in the next room asks if we have heat. Actually, no, and it is starting to get chilly. She speaks 6 words of English to our 6 of German, but she manages to convey an amazing amount with sign language, laughter, and sheer determination and even hugs. They'd better fix it - otherwise she's off to Sousse, good hotels with heat and bigger pools, same price. She writes out 3 names (all this expressed without language in common!) A cheerful young man comes to check the heating and gets results with ours but not, unfortunately, hers.
Out for a walk and the city is utterly deserted and shuttered, apart from the magnificent tomb of former president Bourguiba, where we seem to coincide with some Bourguiba family members. The tomb looks a bit like the Taj mahal, and is at the end of a quarter km walk made of paving stones. On each side of the walk there is a cemetery. Quite interesting, with rectangular white sarcophagi marking each burial spot - the richest of them in white marble, most in white concrete, and the occasional one in white tile. One is actually in chequered blue and white tile. There's no surrounding grass, just earth, butmany of the white coffin sized rectangles have sprigs of green leaf on top. There's the odd tourist and very few locals, but nothing open. Then, at the marina hotel complex, we spot a shop saying closed Sunday-Monday-Tuesday. TUrns out it's Eid, the feast commemorating God's sparing of Ishmael (Isaac in the Judaeo-Christian tradition), celebrated with each family killing a lamb - and we remember that the gutters were, as we set out, running red. We had joked about its being blood. No wonder the sheep I saw Saturday was so reluctant to accompany the woman.
In the evening the bubbly woman in the next room asks if we have heat. Actually, no, and it is starting to get chilly. She speaks 6 words of English to our 6 of German, but she manages to convey an amazing amount with sign language, laughter, and sheer determination and even hugs. They'd better fix it - otherwise she's off to Sousse, good hotels with heat and bigger pools, same price. She writes out 3 names (all this expressed without language in common!) A cheerful young man comes to check the heating and gets results with ours but not, unfortunately, hers.
Sunday, December 7/2008
A man rides a motorbike down past the bank, one hand on the handlebars, the other gripping the edge of a large rectangular tray full of pastries balanced on his head. We stop at a shop in the medina to browse. On a shelf at the back, a small television set is showing the Hajj, so J's curiosity is aroused. In Tunisia (98% Moslem) what percentage are observant, that is atttend the mosque? Not a large percentage - mostly the old.
The numbers seem to be dropping in the dining room as winter comes on and tonight a number of the dishes appear to be recycle versions of last night's fare, so it's tempting to ask if we don't finish it tonight will we have to eat it again tomorrow.
BBC's weather report refers to Manitoba and Ontario as "perishingly cold."
The numbers seem to be dropping in the dining room as winter comes on and tonight a number of the dishes appear to be recycle versions of last night's fare, so it's tempting to ask if we don't finish it tonight will we have to eat it again tomorrow.
BBC's weather report refers to Manitoba and Ontario as "perishingly cold."
Saturday, December 6/2008
Coming back from the internet cafe I see a young woman in a hijab with a sheep on a rope lead. She's talking to a young man and also trying to persuade the sheep to come along with her, but the sheep is having none of it, digging in its hooves as she tugs and backing away like a dog trying to slip its collar. A cruising yellow taxi passes and the woman pjuts up a tentative hand. The taxi slows, then the driver seems to size up the situation and speeds away. Can she really have been going to try to force the sheep into the cab?
Saturday, 6 December 2008
Friday, December 5/2008
Attempt to mail postcards to the grandchildren. The post office is standing room only, and there must be at least fifty seats occupied as well. A young woman shows us where to take a number. Our number is 022. The electronic number currently being served is 667. Do they start over at a thousand? We leave.
For the first time the tourist information office in the medina is open as we pass. A petite young woman is in charge, a little shy. Do they have information in English? She searches in a large cupboard and in her desk. There isn't much there at all. Or French? Ah, here we are a little lucker and get a brochure about Monastir and road map of Tunisia. We ask about the price of stamps to North America and louage trips to Kairoun, but her answers seem both improbably high and like random guesses. I'm ready to leave but J, as usual, is thirsty for information - about the economy, health, education. I jokingly apologise: "Il a toujours des questions." But she's warming a little and becoming more fluent as she continues, mostly in English. Turns out, rather disturbingly (as she can't actually come up with a full grammatical sentence, though she's a lovely girl) that she teaches English to students of 18 or 19. But there's not much chance to practice. French is coçmpulsory from age eight and English at the secondary level. Other languages are senior secondary options. An initial doctor's visit is 35 dinar ($31.50 CAD or £17 UK), but dentists are not expensive.
Walking back, pass a small truck parked on a main business street with a placid sheep in the box. J talks to it and it looks silly and interested.
For the first time the tourist information office in the medina is open as we pass. A petite young woman is in charge, a little shy. Do they have information in English? She searches in a large cupboard and in her desk. There isn't much there at all. Or French? Ah, here we are a little lucker and get a brochure about Monastir and road map of Tunisia. We ask about the price of stamps to North America and louage trips to Kairoun, but her answers seem both improbably high and like random guesses. I'm ready to leave but J, as usual, is thirsty for information - about the economy, health, education. I jokingly apologise: "Il a toujours des questions." But she's warming a little and becoming more fluent as she continues, mostly in English. Turns out, rather disturbingly (as she can't actually come up with a full grammatical sentence, though she's a lovely girl) that she teaches English to students of 18 or 19. But there's not much chance to practice. French is coçmpulsory from age eight and English at the secondary level. Other languages are senior secondary options. An initial doctor's visit is 35 dinar ($31.50 CAD or £17 UK), but dentists are not expensive.
Walking back, pass a small truck parked on a main business street with a placid sheep in the box. J talks to it and it looks silly and interested.
Thursday, December 4/2008
Try to catch up on the Canadian political scene at the internet but the consultation with the governor general scheduled for later today. BBC World, which doesn't usually mention Canada, has it pretty well summed up when they say that Canadian prime minister Stephen Harper has taken the unusual step of asking to have parliament suspended in order to avoid defeat.
Over past the mairie to the post office. Dark blue sea and tall palms, red Tunisian flags much in evidence as always. Post office inaccessably crowded and outside there is a fair sized streetmarket taking place over block or so. Mostly local supplies - clothing, kitchen knives, mobile phone chargers. There are some fairly attractive salad bowls close to 2 feet in diameter and a sort of tin hibachi affair. I finally acquire my comb, a not particularly nice pale aqu one. I buy it from woman at a table outside the supermarket but all the other sellers are male, as they seem to be in all but official goverment shops or little family run ones or supermarkets. One stall at today's market includes, amongst other unrelated objects, 3 padded bras of different colours in the care of a man no woman would dream of consulting about measurements. Nearby a boy about the size of Kieran is shouting enthusiastically "one dinar, one dinar" as he offers a variety of things for sale at 90 cents CAD each.
The male dominance is even more pronounced in the outdoor cafés, which are many and often large. Among the dozens seated at one of the biggest - men of all ages wearing fezzes, baseball caps, woollen hats, the occasional Arab headdress or bareheaded - we only once spot a female, a very small girl with her father. In the more touristed spots there is very occasional woman. But unemployment is fairly high and men have quite a bit of time for coffee, even young men.
We're about to go down to dinner when BBC World announces that the governor general has agreed to suspend parliament. So there we are in the BBC news along with the international drug cartels and the war crimes of former African presidents nd Khmer Rouge leaders. Somehow "suspend parliament" has the sound of suspending democracy, a deprivation not implied by the faintly ridiculous "prorogue." So we're back to the Stuart kings who would much have preferred not to deal with parliament at all, were it not for the grubby necessity of getting money.
Over past the mairie to the post office. Dark blue sea and tall palms, red Tunisian flags much in evidence as always. Post office inaccessably crowded and outside there is a fair sized streetmarket taking place over block or so. Mostly local supplies - clothing, kitchen knives, mobile phone chargers. There are some fairly attractive salad bowls close to 2 feet in diameter and a sort of tin hibachi affair. I finally acquire my comb, a not particularly nice pale aqu one. I buy it from woman at a table outside the supermarket but all the other sellers are male, as they seem to be in all but official goverment shops or little family run ones or supermarkets. One stall at today's market includes, amongst other unrelated objects, 3 padded bras of different colours in the care of a man no woman would dream of consulting about measurements. Nearby a boy about the size of Kieran is shouting enthusiastically "one dinar, one dinar" as he offers a variety of things for sale at 90 cents CAD each.
The male dominance is even more pronounced in the outdoor cafés, which are many and often large. Among the dozens seated at one of the biggest - men of all ages wearing fezzes, baseball caps, woollen hats, the occasional Arab headdress or bareheaded - we only once spot a female, a very small girl with her father. In the more touristed spots there is very occasional woman. But unemployment is fairly high and men have quite a bit of time for coffee, even young men.
We're about to go down to dinner when BBC World announces that the governor general has agreed to suspend parliament. So there we are in the BBC news along with the international drug cartels and the war crimes of former African presidents nd Khmer Rouge leaders. Somehow "suspend parliament" has the sound of suspending democracy, a deprivation not implied by the faintly ridiculous "prorogue." So we're back to the Stuart kings who would much have preferred not to deal with parliament at all, were it not for the grubby necessity of getting money.
Thursday, 4 December 2008
Wednesday, December 3/2008
Morning starts with dark clouds and white caps on a grey-blue sea. Very windy and no hardy German sunbathers in evidence, but not actually cold. Text message from Jenny saying she's back from Cumbria and awaiting the birth of the grandchildren - due next month.
Try the internet but it's ridiculously slow - "plus tard" we tell him. Walk down to the souk. Horrifically windy but still not cold.
J chats in the lift with the German of lst night's flood watch. He and his wife go away for the winter - 6 weeks here, then Egypt, then Turkey. At dinner the German lady at the next table says tht they are here until January 13. The conversation is partly in English and mostly in French, and she seems also to have said that Cyprus gives her a headache, so there may have been some degree of miscommunication.
Try the internet but it's ridiculously slow - "plus tard" we tell him. Walk down to the souk. Horrifically windy but still not cold.
J chats in the lift with the German of lst night's flood watch. He and his wife go away for the winter - 6 weeks here, then Egypt, then Turkey. At dinner the German lady at the next table says tht they are here until January 13. The conversation is partly in English and mostly in French, and she seems also to have said that Cyprus gives her a headache, so there may have been some degree of miscommunication.
Tuesday, December 2/2008
Check at the louage station re trips to Tunis and Kairouan. Yes, continually. From "trois heures le matin" - much earlier than our most ambitious thoughts.
Decide in the end not to go to Tunisia - given the louage time and a preference for being back before dark - and then it begins to rain, hard and with accompanying thunder. Having a glass of wine and a read in the room when I check the stairwell door in the corridor, which has been banging. There's a German guest in the hallway who has spotted a leak in the ceiling. As I turn round we realise that the room is filling with water coming in from under the balcony door. Reception promises help, which takes some time to arrive. The German spreads his hands - this is Africa. But eventually a man comes with long squeegee, mop and pail and it's habitable again. Evening's drama over.
Decide in the end not to go to Tunisia - given the louage time and a preference for being back before dark - and then it begins to rain, hard and with accompanying thunder. Having a glass of wine and a read in the room when I check the stairwell door in the corridor, which has been banging. There's a German guest in the hallway who has spotted a leak in the ceiling. As I turn round we realise that the room is filling with water coming in from under the balcony door. Reception promises help, which takes some time to arrive. The German spreads his hands - this is Africa. But eventually a man comes with long squeegee, mop and pail and it's habitable again. Evening's drama over.
Monday, December 1/2008
December already. Not that it feels like it in Tunisia. A little cooler than when we arrived? Maybe, but yesterday we abandoned our light jackets by late morning - while locals passed us in coats and often woollen hats as well. Curious - one would have thought that biology more than culture would determine sense of cold and heat, but it's clearly a mixture.
This morning J shows me the footprint on top of his shoe where a man at the Medina yesterday stood on his foot, firmly and unapologetically - presumably to allow his knife-wielding companion time to slash J's bag.
Make our visit to the ribat, a large sandstone complex, walled fortification originally defended by warrior monks who slept in small cells around the central courtyard. Great views from the ramparts and tower and reminiscent of Life of Brian which was filmed there. Makes, as Zeffirelli found, a better Jerusalem than present Jerusalem for film purposes. There's not a great deal in its little museum, but some of the antique embroidery is lovely and the picture of Monastir 150 years ago is interesting - an Arab village.
J chats up a young man as we're leaving about the present state of Tunisia. Things are difficult economically despite the signs of construction. Monstir itself he says is a university town - faculties of pedicine, pharmacy, health, agriculture. Do they pay for university or health care? Not for university, except accommodation, but they do pay for medical care, though not a lot.
To the internet café. Fascinating Canadian political/constitutional situation but ot easy to follow via the internet glimpses, especially as it's still early morning in Canada.
This morning J shows me the footprint on top of his shoe where a man at the Medina yesterday stood on his foot, firmly and unapologetically - presumably to allow his knife-wielding companion time to slash J's bag.
Make our visit to the ribat, a large sandstone complex, walled fortification originally defended by warrior monks who slept in small cells around the central courtyard. Great views from the ramparts and tower and reminiscent of Life of Brian which was filmed there. Makes, as Zeffirelli found, a better Jerusalem than present Jerusalem for film purposes. There's not a great deal in its little museum, but some of the antique embroidery is lovely and the picture of Monastir 150 years ago is interesting - an Arab village.
J chats up a young man as we're leaving about the present state of Tunisia. Things are difficult economically despite the signs of construction. Monstir itself he says is a university town - faculties of pedicine, pharmacy, health, agriculture. Do they pay for university or health care? Not for university, except accommodation, but they do pay for medical care, though not a lot.
To the internet café. Fascinating Canadian political/constitutional situation but ot easy to follow via the internet glimpses, especially as it's still early morning in Canada.
Monday, 1 December 2008
Sunday, November 30/2008
Market day in Sousse, so after breafast we take a louage (shared taxi). Holds 7 plus driver, though rather packed. One dinar 30 each to Sousse (about $1.15 CAD, 62p UK for a 24 km trip). Close to a km walk when we get there, from the bus/louage station to the medina.
This medina is much older and bigger than "ours" in Monastir. It's about a km across diagonally but a labyrinth of passages enclosed in ancient walls except for the northern entrance where the wall was blown away by the Allies in 1943. The medina includes 24 mosques and several hotels, but mostly it's shops and stalls selling everything, like a Middle Eastern souq: the obvious leather goods, jewellery, tiles, pottery and kaftans; food of all sorts from fast food to sweets to huge open sacks of spices to whole fish and live hens; ordinary clothing, socks, underwear, etc. as well as general necessities - plasticware, batteries, watch straps, etc. It's crowded in places and in the prts with more tourist goods (including towels featuring various English football teams), there's fair pressure to buy. A man approaches, determined to sell us some Viagra. Very cheap, he insists, but gives up when I say "pas necessaire." Through the crowds an occasional cart or even car makes its way, unbelievably, and more than once two or three sheep on a lead.
We take some time to look at the port - a working port with some pirate style tourist day boats as well - and the southern end of the beach, with beautiful fine sand.
Come back by train - even cheaper than the loge and from a handier location by the port. As we're waiting for the train J discovers that the leather bag he has been carrying has been slashed by a sharp knife, presumably in the crowded medina lanes: It's wrecked the zipper of the front pocket and cut the lining through to the second section. Nothing missing - actually there was nothing in the front section except plastic cutlery for picnicking, but it leaves an unpleasant feeling.
This medina is much older and bigger than "ours" in Monastir. It's about a km across diagonally but a labyrinth of passages enclosed in ancient walls except for the northern entrance where the wall was blown away by the Allies in 1943. The medina includes 24 mosques and several hotels, but mostly it's shops and stalls selling everything, like a Middle Eastern souq: the obvious leather goods, jewellery, tiles, pottery and kaftans; food of all sorts from fast food to sweets to huge open sacks of spices to whole fish and live hens; ordinary clothing, socks, underwear, etc. as well as general necessities - plasticware, batteries, watch straps, etc. It's crowded in places and in the prts with more tourist goods (including towels featuring various English football teams), there's fair pressure to buy. A man approaches, determined to sell us some Viagra. Very cheap, he insists, but gives up when I say "pas necessaire." Through the crowds an occasional cart or even car makes its way, unbelievably, and more than once two or three sheep on a lead.
We take some time to look at the port - a working port with some pirate style tourist day boats as well - and the southern end of the beach, with beautiful fine sand.
Come back by train - even cheaper than the loge and from a handier location by the port. As we're waiting for the train J discovers that the leather bag he has been carrying has been slashed by a sharp knife, presumably in the crowded medina lanes: It's wrecked the zipper of the front pocket and cut the lining through to the second section. Nothing missing - actually there was nothing in the front section except plastic cutlery for picnicking, but it leaves an unpleasant feeling.
Saturday, November 29/2008
Back to the market. An amazingly large fish section, including whole tuna and swordfish as well as steaks of same. Three sheep's heads in a row at a butcher's stall, looking pathetically small without the large fluffy bodies. The cow's head has lost its dummy pacifier. The pressure of salesmen in the medina isn't overpowering but there is sometimes an edge to it - it's not very much for you; a cup of coffee. As the man selling cigarettes who is disgusted when J points out he doesn't smoke - it's very cheap so buy them for someone else. Of course we must look as if we're going back to Europe at the end of a week's holiday with a suitcase full of souvenirs.
Friday, November 28/2008
The BBC chanel is prone to sudden pixillation and disappearance, especially in the early morning and around dinner time. So as it disappears this morning we scan the other chanels for news. We're not much good at following the Italian or German news and the French chanels seem to be broadcasting advertising and children's programming. The two Tunisian chanels, which seldom have much content of consequence even when it isn't the Moslem holy day, are no use. One is, oddly enough, showing a Canadian program on ice climbing, dubbed in Arabic and featuring information on technique and desirable ice climbing locations from Quebec and Banff to Nipigon, Ontario. Written advice of the "wear a helmet" variety appears in a sidebar. One wonders what on earth the Tunisian watchers make of it.
At breafast a German lady uses her few words of English to say she regrets not being able to converse with us. But turns out she does speak some French so we have a brief discussion. Join the sunseekers outside where the sun is certainly hot but the wind is strong enough that it is only just a pleasure, although several determined Germans are in bathing suits.
Mark Abell, the British man we listened to on BBC yesterday is on again today, now no longer barricaded in his Mumbai hotel room but free to go home to his family. And how had he spent his time, apart from keeping in touch with his Blackberry? "I had one of the Ladies Number One Detective Agency books to read." As have we in our hotel room, though fortunately with no need to barricade.
Drinking a not bad Tunisian red wine - Grand vin de Mornag (2005). Much better than the red J bought at the bar. But J finds a small shard - it looks like glass but we think plastic - in the bottom of his glass.
At breafast a German lady uses her few words of English to say she regrets not being able to converse with us. But turns out she does speak some French so we have a brief discussion. Join the sunseekers outside where the sun is certainly hot but the wind is strong enough that it is only just a pleasure, although several determined Germans are in bathing suits.
Mark Abell, the British man we listened to on BBC yesterday is on again today, now no longer barricaded in his Mumbai hotel room but free to go home to his family. And how had he spent his time, apart from keeping in touch with his Blackberry? "I had one of the Ladies Number One Detective Agency books to read." As have we in our hotel room, though fortunately with no need to barricade.
Drinking a not bad Tunisian red wine - Grand vin de Mornag (2005). Much better than the red J bought at the bar. But J finds a small shard - it looks like glass but we think plastic - in the bottom of his glass.
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