Pink bathroom at Hotel Oasis

By the way, that spoon I lost...it came back. Now I have two. It was hiding under the fold of one of my outer pockets, and it wasn't until I unpacked absolutely everything last night in trying to find my knife, that I found the spoon. The knife (with attached bike lock key and handy LED light) is definitely history. Two theories: this guy I met two nights ago stole it, or I accidently threw it away with a bag of Orange peels and empty yoghurt containers. Full story:

After leaving Kairouan (and NOT staying in the 5 star hotel that beckoned so...so...seductively), I bicycled another 25km into the middle of farm country. Mud absolutely everywhere. I was about to plant my tent on a concrete cistern to get out of the mud when a 15 year old kid bicycles by and suggests I follow him. I do. For half an hour. It gets dark. Suddenly he says goodbye, and leaves me standing there wondering what that was all about. 20 minutes later I find a house that looks like its under construction, and plant the tent on a concrete pad. Dogs begin to howl, and they don't stop for an hour. Ensconced in the tent, I implant some earplugs and hope for the best. Half hour later, flashlights and muttering outside the tent. I ignore it and they go away. 15 minutes after that, more flashlights and muttering, and this time I'm rousted by the owner of the house and his ne'er-do-well brother. They suggest I make myself at home inside the house where it will be warmer. Up comes the tent and everything in it, to be placed in the house.

I'm left there with the brother: he can't stay in Tunisia, he wants to travel and work abroad but can't get a visa, and can I help him find work in the United States or Europe? He hasn't been to school, he drives a truck occasionally but doesn't have a job, he speaks some rudimentary French, but he has no skills whatsoever. He doesn't want to work on the family farm. He's evasive about his name and address, but gives me his telephone number, and promises to see me in the morning. Next morning he's a no-show. I leave the house, the door locks after me, I realize I don't have my knife. I force the latch on the door (15 minutes with a stiff piece of cardboard: I was desperate), search the house, and don't find a thing.

When you're carrying as little as I am and everything has been considered for weight and size and utility and cost and secondary uses, losing any one item takes on an inordinate importance (I've been planning this for over a year!). I was really, really depressed for kilometers. I started using the back of my spoon as a knife (spoons: they're the new knife!), and got through the day, and finally came back to my senses: I can get another knife. Furthermore, I have a spare light and a spare bike lock key and this isn't the catastrophe it felt like in the heat of the moment. XZ$%&@! happens. C'est la vie.

Dental floss: that problem I thought I solved by buying toothpicks? It wasn't working, I'm having some swelling in the gums, and finally ask an Australian studying Arabic here in Tunisia if she could give me some floss. She hands me a whole roll. Ca, c'est aussi la vie.

written by  roel krabbendam on December 27, 2006 from Gabes, Tunisia
from the travel blog: Harmattan
Send a Compliment

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The brother sounds perfect as my replacement in the bike shop. He'll fit right in.
Larry

written by  Lawrence Libby on December 28, 2006

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Next time you drop the bike and something falls off consider it a gift...another Killometer of therapy and your new utensil.
-Victor

written by  Victor Krabbendam on December 28, 2006

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if the guy wants to work on the coffeee farm, he is hired..no need a green card, nobody else has one...
franklin

written by  franklin marcus on December 30, 2006

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