Was up at 9:30, and went downstairs for breakfast. I then returned to my room and worked on the notebook, making notes among other things. At around 12:00 I asked from the access to Spithas and the carton box, in the basement. In about one hour Spithas was neatly placed in his carton box. Fortunately, I was able to unscrew the pedals w/ no incident. As I don’t carry the right tools w/ me this gives me the most trouble. I also crammed in the space that was left all my other stuff (not a lot, as you may imagine.) I only kept the necessities that could fit in my knapsack and fanny pack. Back to my room, rested for a while and around 14:00 I headed out to grab a bite. A very slow day, so far.
I went out and followed the by now usual way to the souvlaki store. It was closed, the one further down was also closed, the dry nuts place was also closed. Everything was closed. I started wondering why and my assumption was that it might be a local holiday that I was not aware of. But still some of these stores are always open, especially on holidays. I decided to walk to last night’s publinet. It was closed. And then it became clear why. A little further down I saw lots of soldiers and in the opposite direction riot police. Everybody was bracing for trouble. Store owners know that they are the usual victims, so the close their stores “to celebrate” the occasion.
Take the good and the bad together. This would be a good opportunity for some good shots. Soon as I took my camera out a man that was just a notch above a derelict walked up to me and w/ a lot of authority told me “put the camera away, no pictures.” Such authoritative bums must be readily obeyed, so I put it away and walked. I thought that if I walked to the far away internet place of before yesterday I would be out the trouble range and it might be open. Wrong again. Actually, as I approached that place the crowd of youths was getting thicker. Unwittingly I was heading for the heart of the trouble. Still those things are exiting and since I saw other people filming w/ their cell phones, I took a few good shots myself of youths throwing stones, running away and the fumes of tear gas. Doing the wise thing, like everybody else, I started walking away, all the time looking for a place to buy food. You see hunger may cause riots, but riots do tame hunger. Did not see anything open and started tracing my path back to the hotel. Unwittingly I was holding the camera in my hand and also tried, or rather did take a couple of pictures of soldiers at the place where I was told off the first time. The only people around looked very common and harmless. One of these very common looking people walked up to me an almost grabbed the camera from my hand. He said he was police and soon all the other common people joined him. He demanded to see the pictures I had taken. I tried to delay him as much as possible but in reality I had no choice and reluctantly I turned the camera on and started showing him the pictures. The good thing in situations like this one I try to be discreet and I do not aim the camera in a visible way, I just hold it down and secretly aim at the object and take several pictures. As you may imagine, most of the photos taken in this fashion ar of things that I did not have in mind. If I take a sufficient number of pictures, digital technology makes that possible, some of them are of the object I want. So the first couple of pictures I showed him were pictures of trees. “Show me the other pictures” the man said, “not these.” A younger man approached and told me that I would have “suprimer” (delete) the pictures. I told him I did not understand what suprimer but in the end, it goes w/o saying, in his presence I erased all the pictures on the card. Too bad, I was doing all for you so that you could see a developing riot. The younger man asked for my passport. In those cases, experience teaches, not to be a wise guy. The police has all the power and can exercise it in an arbitrary way.
Despite having told them in French and in Arabic that I was Greek, they thought I was French. I had to show them my passport for them to believe me and still the young man referred to me as French. He leafed through the passport and said in a loud voice, I see stamps from Syria, and from Egypt, and from Jordan, and from England. What are you doing here. I told him I was biking around those countries and that I had just finished biking around Tunisia, but he did not seem to believe me. He asked me “what is your profession?” “Instititeur” I told him, which means teacher in French. This is what I always say when asked about my profession. It is not a lie but it is not the whole truth either. When I say that, people assume that I am a high school teacher in Greece, which is not true, but at the same time I never said so. Passports do not report the owner’s profession, so he asked for a police ID. I told him that I have one but it is in Greece, besides even he wouldn’t be able to read it because everything is in Greek. At this point he had mellowed down and told me to just go and stay at my hotel for the rest of the day. I did as he said, that is, I left but did not go to the hotel. For a moment I had gotten really scared that I would be detained, which meant that I would miss tomorrow’s flight. Fortunately the only casualty were the pictures.
All that adventure had really whetted my appetite and I was really hungry now. I walked in the opposite direction trying to find a place to buy food. The police was everywhere though and everything was shutdown. But I guess the saying that fate favors the bold or rather the persistent is true. Finally, I found a souvlaki place and bought two pieces, one for immediate consumption and the other for later. Also, on the way back to the hotel I saw that one of the most central cafés was open, or rather in the process of closing so I sat there and had a hot chocolate along w/ a couple of cigarettes, doing what I do best, watching people go by.
I then went back to the hotel and did not exit again. A curfew was on till next morning.
CARTAGO DELENDA EST
Sunday, 16 January 2011
Tuesday, 11 January 2011
Tuesday, 11 January, 2011 --- Day 11
Stats
Start at BIZERTE End at MATEUR
Day dist: 39.8 kms
Riding time: 2:12
Avg speed: 18.5
Max speed: 29.9
Beg day odo: 744.6 kms
End day odo: 784.3 kms
In the early morning, as I was sleeping, I thought I heard the sound of rain and I remember making contingency plans regarding my course of action if it did rain when I got up. I remember deciding to stay in Bizerte for most of the day and then taking the bus back to Tunis. To my surprise, when I got up (9:30) and opened the window I saw a glorious day. Rain must have been in my dreams. However when later I went out the ground was wet and it had actually rained. So what, what difference would that make? Whatever the case may have been, the sky was clear now.
I took my stuff downstairs, left them at the lobby, and went out for a walk to take a good look at the town in daylight and w/o riots.
The street of “Hotel De La Plage”
I walked towards the sea
The corniche
Then I walked to the city center
As I started walking back I saw an open souq and walked into. It is always a pleasure walking in souqs.
A guy that was walking next to me spoke to me in good French saying hi and asking whether I was headed towards the madina. “Here we go again” I said to myself. I answered him and he went on chatting. We walked towards the natural port in front of the Madina
The guy looked descend but I do not trust anybody anymore. I decided to have some fun and I invited him for a cup of coffee. He pointed at a coffee shop near the water and this is where we went. He was rather educated he also spoke German and English. The topic of his conversation was general but also tried to bring it to specifics, like the high unemployment and how that affected him, etc.. I guess this would be the right point to ask for monetary help from me. I took control of the conversation and kept talking about general things regarding Africa, Europe, the unemployment in the US, etc. When it was time to go I told him that I had to leave because my ride could not wait. He got up w/ me and walked through that open souq again
at the end of the street where we would each go his own direction he asked for money. I gave him my best wishes but no money.
Walked back to the hotel
Tunisian puppies
At 12:15 I was ready and hit the road. I was headed for Mateur, which was 40 kms away and I had decided that this would be the last stop of the trip. I opted not continue for Sajanan (another 40 kms) for two reasons. As I did not have my passport with, I was a bit nervous and wanted to return to Tunis asap and second I was told that Sajanan was a nowhereville and I was afraid that I might not find the transport I needed to go back to Tunis at the time I needed it, and my departure date was drawing near.
In the meantime the clouds had gathered again and raindrops were falling as I was leaving. I hesitated for a moment “should I stay or should I go?” You all know that the answer to this is “if I stay there will be trouble if I go it will be double!!!” I opted for more trouble and braved the rain. As I rode, however, the rain started falling hard and I had to stop at a gas station to take cover. I waited for a while and when it subsided I went on. Needless to say that after a while it started again and this time there was no place to take cover, so I did all I could, that is, I rode on in the rain and started praying aloud to the god of rain to go away. I guess my prayers were the right ones because after half an hour the rain stopped and the sun came out.
The pipeline
The road
Lunch break
Once more the clouds were heavy and I could sense another round of rain approaching. In addition I had to fight against another enemy, a very strong wind. The rain kept coming and going, they wind was steady.
The never ending road
The last 7 kms I biked under the worst possible element combination, heavy rain and strong wind in my face. The odometer stopped working, probably the rain water had short circuited it. I arrived at Mateur a little before 15:00 and as I was heading for what appeared to be the town center I saw two guys carrying their suitcases. They looked ready to travel possibly to Tunis. I stopped and asked them and they told me that there was a train for Tunis at 15:10. That info changed my plans. I rushed to the town center
main street
and then speedily biked to the train station. I really did not want to have to spend the night there, especially w/o a passport.
Train station
I got on the last wagon w/ Spithas. The conductor and a sympathetic guy in his early twenties were there. The conductor kept repeated several times that I would have to pay for Spithas too and each time he said it I said “I know.” So I paid for both. The total was less than $5. He charged Spithas the same price he charged me. Verify the following on the internet: chimpanzees in New Zealand and in Spain have been given human rights!!!! The above evidence suggests that Tunisians are more advanced in that area, even bikes are considered equals and charged like humans. The other thought that crossed my mind was that I’ve always paid for both Spithas and I and Spithas he has never even bothered to pay once. But I guess this is how life is.
Spithas and I on the train
the never ending rails
The conductor left and the young guy stayed. His job was to turn the switch that controlled the doors on and off as we the train entered/left a station. Soon I learned how to flip the switch and since I was standing near it, he did not even have to do that either. We chatted and he was very pleasant. He pointed at one window that was broken and said that this happens all the time because kids at the stations throw rocks at the train when it leaves the station. Sure enough in the next couple of stations, kids honored the tradition and threw rocks at us. Fortunately none of them broke any windows this time. You should have been there to see the guy taking cover when the kids threw rocks and then going to the window and curse at the kids, as the train was leaving.
In about one hour we were at the terminal stop at Tunis
This likable guy did not let me leave but escorted me and Spithas to pay for Spithas’ fare. When I protested that I had already paid he mumbled something that I only paid for my fare and that normally bikes are not allowed on the train and this is why I was only given one receipt for me and not for Spithas. No big deal, another $4 did the trick and I got a receipt this time. I was not in the mood for putting up a fight. I suppose the first Spithas fare went into the conductor’s pocket.
I headed for “home,” that is, Hotel Salammbo, which was a few blocks away. I took a shower, changed and then went out to grab a bite and then to a publinet.
CARTAGO DELENDA EST
Start at BIZERTE End at MATEUR
Day dist: 39.8 kms
Riding time: 2:12
Avg speed: 18.5
Max speed: 29.9
Beg day odo: 744.6 kms
End day odo: 784.3 kms
In the early morning, as I was sleeping, I thought I heard the sound of rain and I remember making contingency plans regarding my course of action if it did rain when I got up. I remember deciding to stay in Bizerte for most of the day and then taking the bus back to Tunis. To my surprise, when I got up (9:30) and opened the window I saw a glorious day. Rain must have been in my dreams. However when later I went out the ground was wet and it had actually rained. So what, what difference would that make? Whatever the case may have been, the sky was clear now.
I took my stuff downstairs, left them at the lobby, and went out for a walk to take a good look at the town in daylight and w/o riots.
The street of “Hotel De La Plage”
I walked towards the sea
The corniche
Then I walked to the city center
As I started walking back I saw an open souq and walked into. It is always a pleasure walking in souqs.
A guy that was walking next to me spoke to me in good French saying hi and asking whether I was headed towards the madina. “Here we go again” I said to myself. I answered him and he went on chatting. We walked towards the natural port in front of the Madina
The guy looked descend but I do not trust anybody anymore. I decided to have some fun and I invited him for a cup of coffee. He pointed at a coffee shop near the water and this is where we went. He was rather educated he also spoke German and English. The topic of his conversation was general but also tried to bring it to specifics, like the high unemployment and how that affected him, etc.. I guess this would be the right point to ask for monetary help from me. I took control of the conversation and kept talking about general things regarding Africa, Europe, the unemployment in the US, etc. When it was time to go I told him that I had to leave because my ride could not wait. He got up w/ me and walked through that open souq again
at the end of the street where we would each go his own direction he asked for money. I gave him my best wishes but no money.
Walked back to the hotel
Tunisian puppies
At 12:15 I was ready and hit the road. I was headed for Mateur, which was 40 kms away and I had decided that this would be the last stop of the trip. I opted not continue for Sajanan (another 40 kms) for two reasons. As I did not have my passport with, I was a bit nervous and wanted to return to Tunis asap and second I was told that Sajanan was a nowhereville and I was afraid that I might not find the transport I needed to go back to Tunis at the time I needed it, and my departure date was drawing near.
In the meantime the clouds had gathered again and raindrops were falling as I was leaving. I hesitated for a moment “should I stay or should I go?” You all know that the answer to this is “if I stay there will be trouble if I go it will be double!!!” I opted for more trouble and braved the rain. As I rode, however, the rain started falling hard and I had to stop at a gas station to take cover. I waited for a while and when it subsided I went on. Needless to say that after a while it started again and this time there was no place to take cover, so I did all I could, that is, I rode on in the rain and started praying aloud to the god of rain to go away. I guess my prayers were the right ones because after half an hour the rain stopped and the sun came out.
The pipeline
The road
Lunch break
Once more the clouds were heavy and I could sense another round of rain approaching. In addition I had to fight against another enemy, a very strong wind. The rain kept coming and going, they wind was steady.
The never ending road
The last 7 kms I biked under the worst possible element combination, heavy rain and strong wind in my face. The odometer stopped working, probably the rain water had short circuited it. I arrived at Mateur a little before 15:00 and as I was heading for what appeared to be the town center I saw two guys carrying their suitcases. They looked ready to travel possibly to Tunis. I stopped and asked them and they told me that there was a train for Tunis at 15:10. That info changed my plans. I rushed to the town center
main street
and then speedily biked to the train station. I really did not want to have to spend the night there, especially w/o a passport.
Train station
I got on the last wagon w/ Spithas. The conductor and a sympathetic guy in his early twenties were there. The conductor kept repeated several times that I would have to pay for Spithas too and each time he said it I said “I know.” So I paid for both. The total was less than $5. He charged Spithas the same price he charged me. Verify the following on the internet: chimpanzees in New Zealand and in Spain have been given human rights!!!! The above evidence suggests that Tunisians are more advanced in that area, even bikes are considered equals and charged like humans. The other thought that crossed my mind was that I’ve always paid for both Spithas and I and Spithas he has never even bothered to pay once. But I guess this is how life is.
Spithas and I on the train
the never ending rails
The conductor left and the young guy stayed. His job was to turn the switch that controlled the doors on and off as we the train entered/left a station. Soon I learned how to flip the switch and since I was standing near it, he did not even have to do that either. We chatted and he was very pleasant. He pointed at one window that was broken and said that this happens all the time because kids at the stations throw rocks at the train when it leaves the station. Sure enough in the next couple of stations, kids honored the tradition and threw rocks at us. Fortunately none of them broke any windows this time. You should have been there to see the guy taking cover when the kids threw rocks and then going to the window and curse at the kids, as the train was leaving.
In about one hour we were at the terminal stop at Tunis
This likable guy did not let me leave but escorted me and Spithas to pay for Spithas’ fare. When I protested that I had already paid he mumbled something that I only paid for my fare and that normally bikes are not allowed on the train and this is why I was only given one receipt for me and not for Spithas. No big deal, another $4 did the trick and I got a receipt this time. I was not in the mood for putting up a fight. I suppose the first Spithas fare went into the conductor’s pocket.
I headed for “home,” that is, Hotel Salammbo, which was a few blocks away. I took a shower, changed and then went out to grab a bite and then to a publinet.
CARTAGO DELENDA EST
Monday, 10 January, 2011 --- Day 10
Stats
Start at TUNIS End at BIZERTE
Day dist: 71.33 kms
Riding time: 3:47
Avg speed: 18.7
Max speed: 47.8
Beg day odo: 671.40 kms
End day odo: 744.6 kms
Up at around 9:00. Had breakfast and immediately rushed to Rue xxx Slim at the Madina where I was told yesterday that there were bike stores. I had to secure a carton box for Spithas’ airplane trip. I did not see any stores and I started asking around. The story was different today. There was one store which from wherever I asked it was a little further down the street. I guess the elusive store kept moving away from me as I was walking towards it. Finally, I entered a hardware store and implored the owner to tell me about that store. He attended my case w/ interest and told me that to find a bike store I would have to go to “Rue de Madrid,” which was quite a walk from there. I got the directions and started walking fast. Finally, after asking again and again, I ended up at Madrid Street. I asked again about bike stores, people kept saying that there were many but the only one I saw was selling motorbikes and a only a couple of bicycles. I went in and asked using my best French, if they had a box for Spithas, they could not even understand what I was talking about. After looking around I found another similar store whose helpful owner told me that he had no boxes of the kind I needed and that nobody else around had any. My best bet was to take a cab and go to Carrefour, a large department store, where they would certainly have carton boxes, if not of bikes, definitely of refrigerators, etc., which I could dice and splice into one box.
I left the store disappointed and not knowing what to do. As I was walking a smiling man came up to me, greeted me politely, and asked me if everything was OK. I explained to him the situation and his answer was that this was not a problem. He said “let’s go have a coffee and I’ll tell you what to do.” As we walked toward a coffee shop he said he was very happy because he had just become a father for the first time to a baby girl. That was strange given his age, he looked in his late 50s, but what the heck, he knew how to find a box for me. He ordered the coffees and we sat at table. As we chatted I asked him about the violence that had broken out in a Tunisian town that I had seen on TV yesterday. He told me not to talk about things like this because the police had people planted in coffee shops listening to what people were saying and it would spell trouble. We chatted for a little while where I understood that the man that would solve my problem had no idea that I was biking around the country and that I needed a carton box. He seemed in a rush and said he would have to go to the hospital. He then said that we would have to pay for the coffees and looked at me expecting me to pay for the coffees that he invited me to. I did just that and as we got up he told me that he intended to buy flowers for his wife and asked me to help him w/ a small donation. I told him that I certainly would love to contribute to his happiness but first I needed to find a carton box, if he could help me w/ that he would get a tip. We walked down the street and the amount he had originally asked me for the flowers kept becoming lower. Finally I told him that I did not have any money to spare but I was really happy for him, I indeed shared his happiness, asked him to kiss his wife and daughter for me, and just walked the other way.
I went around asking about carton boxes from store to store. Finally, someone pointed me to a store further down the street that was selling motorbikes and few bicycles. I went there and stated my case to the two owners. They understood what I was looking for but did not have any carton boxes. They did not give up though. One of them went to the back of the store and when he returned he was holding two identical carton boxes that could be easily sliced and spliced into one box to fit Spithas. I thanked as much as I could. They had saved the day for me.
I walked back to the hotel. It was past 12:30 when I arrived. I spent the next hour and a half slicing and splicing, and built a box for Spithas. After that I rushed out, took money out of an ATM, went to a supermarket to victualize, returned to the hotel, loaded Spithas and left. It was 14:00. The goal was Bizerta. I biked past the airport and on
The urban area extended for about 10 kms. Finally I left the inhabited area behind
At 15 kms the road split into the highway and the old national road. Goes w/o saying that I took the old road.
The never ending road
The ride was easy and I doing good time. The landscape was very different from I had seen up until now. It was tamer and more rustic
Entering the Bizerte region
Too good to be true. Things cannot be smooth for too long. It is not natural. We must suffer, otherwise what is the point. This rule of life has no exceptions. My ride was too smooth for too long. Something had to give. Sure enough the wind started blowing in my face rather forcefully. That slowed down everything and made it definite that I would spend the nigh in Bizerta and not continue further. Actually in the picture below in the background you can see the wind farm. There were several other wind farms and people build wind farms only where there is strong wind. This was the case here. No choice. I had to carry on and carry on I did.
The never ending road
Finally I started descending and arrived at sea level.
At 17:30 I stopped for lunch
There were 12 kms left. It took me another 45 mins and I entered the city.
Something did not look right. There were too may people out on the street and very few cars. When I asked a young man where the center was he gave me the directions and added “be careful there is trouble.” “What trouble?” I asked. “It is the police against the Tunisians” his answer was. Evidently this is what I had seen on TV last night. Well what do you say about that? I found the center and asked for a hotel. I followed the directions and found the hotel next to the mosque.
How absent minded can one be? When I looked for my passport, my passport was not there. I immediately remembered what had happened. I had forgotten to reclaim my passport at hotel Salammbo. When I went to Salammbo and showed my passport the reception employee kept it to copy the info later. When I asked for it later he had not finished and told me to ask even later. That second later I totally forgot. Without a passport I could not stay at this hotel. The receptionist said these were the rules his boss had laid down for him and there was nothing he could do. He said, however, if I went to hotel “L’ Orient,” which was a rather expensive hotel, they would probably take me for the night even without my passport. I started biking in that direction. As I was drawing nearer I could see lots of antiriot police and fires lit in the distance, and big stones littering the streets. In my experience fires serve to attenuate the effect of tear gas, and stones is what rioters use to attack the police. It looked riot coming to its end. Few rioters were still around and the police was making sudden dashes against them. I biked through the police and asked them for directions. I was surprised that they even answered me. The fear that they would ask for identification, that is, my passport was lurking in my mind and I made the encounters as brief as possible. Nobody bothered, they were preoccupied w/ other things. When I arrived at hotel “L’ Orient,” I found it hermetically closed. I had to look for another hotel. By asking I ended up at “Hotel de la Plage.” The employee that opened the door did not care for passports. I booted my netbook and showed him the scanned copy of my passport but he did not even take a look. In addition he let me use the phone and call hotel Salammbo to verify that my passport was there.
For the rest I went out to buy Tunisian souvlaki and water and then retired to my room.
CARTAGO DELENDA EST
Start at TUNIS End at BIZERTE
Day dist: 71.33 kms
Riding time: 3:47
Avg speed: 18.7
Max speed: 47.8
Beg day odo: 671.40 kms
End day odo: 744.6 kms
Up at around 9:00. Had breakfast and immediately rushed to Rue xxx Slim at the Madina where I was told yesterday that there were bike stores. I had to secure a carton box for Spithas’ airplane trip. I did not see any stores and I started asking around. The story was different today. There was one store which from wherever I asked it was a little further down the street. I guess the elusive store kept moving away from me as I was walking towards it. Finally, I entered a hardware store and implored the owner to tell me about that store. He attended my case w/ interest and told me that to find a bike store I would have to go to “Rue de Madrid,” which was quite a walk from there. I got the directions and started walking fast. Finally, after asking again and again, I ended up at Madrid Street. I asked again about bike stores, people kept saying that there were many but the only one I saw was selling motorbikes and a only a couple of bicycles. I went in and asked using my best French, if they had a box for Spithas, they could not even understand what I was talking about. After looking around I found another similar store whose helpful owner told me that he had no boxes of the kind I needed and that nobody else around had any. My best bet was to take a cab and go to Carrefour, a large department store, where they would certainly have carton boxes, if not of bikes, definitely of refrigerators, etc., which I could dice and splice into one box.
I left the store disappointed and not knowing what to do. As I was walking a smiling man came up to me, greeted me politely, and asked me if everything was OK. I explained to him the situation and his answer was that this was not a problem. He said “let’s go have a coffee and I’ll tell you what to do.” As we walked toward a coffee shop he said he was very happy because he had just become a father for the first time to a baby girl. That was strange given his age, he looked in his late 50s, but what the heck, he knew how to find a box for me. He ordered the coffees and we sat at table. As we chatted I asked him about the violence that had broken out in a Tunisian town that I had seen on TV yesterday. He told me not to talk about things like this because the police had people planted in coffee shops listening to what people were saying and it would spell trouble. We chatted for a little while where I understood that the man that would solve my problem had no idea that I was biking around the country and that I needed a carton box. He seemed in a rush and said he would have to go to the hospital. He then said that we would have to pay for the coffees and looked at me expecting me to pay for the coffees that he invited me to. I did just that and as we got up he told me that he intended to buy flowers for his wife and asked me to help him w/ a small donation. I told him that I certainly would love to contribute to his happiness but first I needed to find a carton box, if he could help me w/ that he would get a tip. We walked down the street and the amount he had originally asked me for the flowers kept becoming lower. Finally I told him that I did not have any money to spare but I was really happy for him, I indeed shared his happiness, asked him to kiss his wife and daughter for me, and just walked the other way.
I went around asking about carton boxes from store to store. Finally, someone pointed me to a store further down the street that was selling motorbikes and few bicycles. I went there and stated my case to the two owners. They understood what I was looking for but did not have any carton boxes. They did not give up though. One of them went to the back of the store and when he returned he was holding two identical carton boxes that could be easily sliced and spliced into one box to fit Spithas. I thanked as much as I could. They had saved the day for me.
I walked back to the hotel. It was past 12:30 when I arrived. I spent the next hour and a half slicing and splicing, and built a box for Spithas. After that I rushed out, took money out of an ATM, went to a supermarket to victualize, returned to the hotel, loaded Spithas and left. It was 14:00. The goal was Bizerta. I biked past the airport and on
The urban area extended for about 10 kms. Finally I left the inhabited area behind
At 15 kms the road split into the highway and the old national road. Goes w/o saying that I took the old road.
The never ending road
The ride was easy and I doing good time. The landscape was very different from I had seen up until now. It was tamer and more rustic
Entering the Bizerte region
Too good to be true. Things cannot be smooth for too long. It is not natural. We must suffer, otherwise what is the point. This rule of life has no exceptions. My ride was too smooth for too long. Something had to give. Sure enough the wind started blowing in my face rather forcefully. That slowed down everything and made it definite that I would spend the nigh in Bizerta and not continue further. Actually in the picture below in the background you can see the wind farm. There were several other wind farms and people build wind farms only where there is strong wind. This was the case here. No choice. I had to carry on and carry on I did.
The never ending road
Finally I started descending and arrived at sea level.
At 17:30 I stopped for lunch
There were 12 kms left. It took me another 45 mins and I entered the city.
Something did not look right. There were too may people out on the street and very few cars. When I asked a young man where the center was he gave me the directions and added “be careful there is trouble.” “What trouble?” I asked. “It is the police against the Tunisians” his answer was. Evidently this is what I had seen on TV last night. Well what do you say about that? I found the center and asked for a hotel. I followed the directions and found the hotel next to the mosque.
How absent minded can one be? When I looked for my passport, my passport was not there. I immediately remembered what had happened. I had forgotten to reclaim my passport at hotel Salammbo. When I went to Salammbo and showed my passport the reception employee kept it to copy the info later. When I asked for it later he had not finished and told me to ask even later. That second later I totally forgot. Without a passport I could not stay at this hotel. The receptionist said these were the rules his boss had laid down for him and there was nothing he could do. He said, however, if I went to hotel “L’ Orient,” which was a rather expensive hotel, they would probably take me for the night even without my passport. I started biking in that direction. As I was drawing nearer I could see lots of antiriot police and fires lit in the distance, and big stones littering the streets. In my experience fires serve to attenuate the effect of tear gas, and stones is what rioters use to attack the police. It looked riot coming to its end. Few rioters were still around and the police was making sudden dashes against them. I biked through the police and asked them for directions. I was surprised that they even answered me. The fear that they would ask for identification, that is, my passport was lurking in my mind and I made the encounters as brief as possible. Nobody bothered, they were preoccupied w/ other things. When I arrived at hotel “L’ Orient,” I found it hermetically closed. I had to look for another hotel. By asking I ended up at “Hotel de la Plage.” The employee that opened the door did not care for passports. I booted my netbook and showed him the scanned copy of my passport but he did not even take a look. In addition he let me use the phone and call hotel Salammbo to verify that my passport was there.
For the rest I went out to buy Tunisian souvlaki and water and then retired to my room.
CARTAGO DELENDA EST
Sunday, 09 January, 2011 --- Day 09
Stats
Start at TUNIS End at TUNIS
Day dist:
Riding time:
Avg speed:
Max speed:
Beg day odo:
End day odo:
Stayed at bus depot working on computer till 9:30. I then rigged Spithas and headed for the city which was less than 2kms away. I lodged at hotel Salammbo again. I went to my room (25) and laid down for a while to rest. Next I got up and walked to the subway station to ask if it would be OK to take Spithas in a carton box to the airport by subway. My next move was to go to the Medina looking for a place to find the carton box for Spithas. I asked around everywhere but did not get any good answers. Besides everything was closed on a Sunday. My achievement was to know where to come tomorrow. Someone pointed out to me that there is a bike store in one of the side streets of the Medina, near the arc at the port of France
Arc at port of France
I was really tired and went back to the hotel where I took an at least three hour nap. I was tired for not having slept properly in the bus the night before.
When I got up I was lethargic at first but finally got up the energy and went downstairs and asked to be connected to the wifi. This time wifi was set against me. I tried all the tricks but nothing worked. Disappointed I went out looking for an internet location (publinet as they call them here.) Everything was closed and when I asked at pizza store they really did not care to help me. So, I left to ask somebody else. As I was walking down the street somebody approached me and told me that he had overheard what I was looking for and new of a place that was open. He actually walked me to that place which was at least 10 blocks away. Very polite, he was a student of telecommunications originally from the south of the country. While we were walking he expressed his negative views about the people of the north. I guess there is a divide here between north and south as there is in many other countries. I stayed in the publinet place for two and a half hours and then walked back to the hotel. It was only 22:00 but looked like very late. The fact that it is already night by 18:00 makes a difference in my perception of early and late. At the hotel went almost right away to bed to make up for the hours of lost sleep.
CARTAGO DELENDA EST
Start at TUNIS End at TUNIS
Day dist:
Riding time:
Avg speed:
Max speed:
Beg day odo:
End day odo:
Stayed at bus depot working on computer till 9:30. I then rigged Spithas and headed for the city which was less than 2kms away. I lodged at hotel Salammbo again. I went to my room (25) and laid down for a while to rest. Next I got up and walked to the subway station to ask if it would be OK to take Spithas in a carton box to the airport by subway. My next move was to go to the Medina looking for a place to find the carton box for Spithas. I asked around everywhere but did not get any good answers. Besides everything was closed on a Sunday. My achievement was to know where to come tomorrow. Someone pointed out to me that there is a bike store in one of the side streets of the Medina, near the arc at the port of France
Arc at port of France
I was really tired and went back to the hotel where I took an at least three hour nap. I was tired for not having slept properly in the bus the night before.
When I got up I was lethargic at first but finally got up the energy and went downstairs and asked to be connected to the wifi. This time wifi was set against me. I tried all the tricks but nothing worked. Disappointed I went out looking for an internet location (publinet as they call them here.) Everything was closed and when I asked at pizza store they really did not care to help me. So, I left to ask somebody else. As I was walking down the street somebody approached me and told me that he had overheard what I was looking for and new of a place that was open. He actually walked me to that place which was at least 10 blocks away. Very polite, he was a student of telecommunications originally from the south of the country. While we were walking he expressed his negative views about the people of the north. I guess there is a divide here between north and south as there is in many other countries. I stayed in the publinet place for two and a half hours and then walked back to the hotel. It was only 22:00 but looked like very late. The fact that it is already night by 18:00 makes a difference in my perception of early and late. At the hotel went almost right away to bed to make up for the hours of lost sleep.
CARTAGO DELENDA EST
Sunday, 9 January 2011
Saturday, 08 January, 2011 --- Day 08
Stats
Start at MEDENIN End at BEN GUERDENE
Day dist: 89.00 kms
Riding time: 3:18
Avg speed: 22.2
Max speed: 43.2
Beg day odo: 582.2 kms
End day odo: 671.40 kms
I got up late and lazy. I only had to do something in the neighborhood of 78 kms today. There was no reason to rush. I worked on the netbook, mostly on arranging pictures and preparing the log. At 10:00, I went down for breakfast and then back to my room to pack up. It was the first time so far that I had left the bike downstairs, so, carrying my stuff down was not an issue. I did that and then started wifying. I probably did not mention but one could only wify from the lobby. I wified for more than an hour and after exchanging some conversation w/ the receptionist, whose name was Hafsa, I loaded the stuff on faithful Spithas and hit the road.
The hotel
Medenine
Exiting Medenine
The road was flat and straight and I was able to speed w/o much effort all the time using a high (small) gear. I have no explanation for some things that happen repeatedly during my biking. On other occasions I have to struggle just to bike on a slight downhill. Today the road was flat and at times slightly uphill(I started at sea level and ended up in the mountains,) but the effort was minimal and the speed high. It could have been that there was no wind, for or against, but still this explanation is weak and doesn’t quite cut it. Question to the physicists out there: could it be different gravitational fields?
Refueling stations on the highway
When you roll like that you are happy and you do not care to take breaks so I did not stop for a long time.
The never ending road
One more photo with my new face
The never ending road
The only incident was that when I saw a cop on the highway who was there to stop and control cars, I stopped myself and asked him questions regarding transportation from Ben Guerdene to Tunis. The info I got was encouraging. It appeared that I would be able to get a bus ride out of Ben Guerdene to Tunis that same night. This would save a day of waiting.
The next thing of note was a pack of camels in the arid/desert land next to the highway.
Finally, 12 kms (according to the mile stones) before Ben Guerdene, I took my first stop, having decided it was time to for lunch. It was 17:30
The never ending road
Finally I entered the Ben Guerdene district
and the town itself
It was a rundown place, nothing important, almost a frontier’s town. It was definitely not worth spending the night there. At this point I must make a comment. People in this town and generally people from the Southern part of Tunisia seem to be different people from the northern part. Their facial features are different, they are definitively of shorter stature and of darker complexion. In addition they are visibly more provincial. Their manners do not recommend them. Lastly, this may be just me, the Arabic they speak, sounds to me harsher.
I entered the town at around 16:30 and literally took me one hour to locate the bus depot (gare routiere.) When I found it, it was one mile from the center. People in that town hardly speak any French and did not seem to be able to give any simple directions, including the police. I stopped five times at a police station that was on the way to ask the cops that were outside where the bus to Tunis stopped and got conflicting info each time. Something that should have taken 10 mins, literally took one hour.
Once at the depot the people were very polite and helpful. The issue was Spithas as the luggage compartment was fully taken. The employee at the ticket window had to go to the head of the station who said that I would have to travel tomorrow. Even when I offered to pay extra they said that the issue is space and money. Finally I just stepped into the headmaster’s office myself and told him that I could take Spithas apart and place him on top of the other luggage. The ticket employ rooted for me and Spithas carried the day. The ticket was 28 Dinars for me and 10 Dinars for Spithas, a total of 38 Dinars (€21,) pretty cheap for such a long ride.
I biked back to town to take a better peek and wandered around for about one hour I got something to eat and then biked back to the depot, which I had a hard time finding again.
In the hour and a half that remained I worked a bit on the computer and then had to see how Spithas would be loaded on the bus. I gave a generous tip to the man and he moved most of the stuff from one side of the under the bus trunk to the other to make room for Spithas. I only had to take the front wheel off and the rest fell in place. Thinking that the seats were numbered I waited outside but then it occurred to me as a good idea to install myself in my seat and then come out again. Thank God I had that idea, otherwise I would have ridden the entire trip standing. The bus reminded me of Greek busses in the sixties and early seventies. Not the best environment, and in particular the behavior of the passengers. But who cares? I was asleep for most of the ride and when the guy behind me asked me to raise the back of my seat I refused pointing at all the other seats that had not done so.
We arrived at Tunis central bus station at around 5:00.
CARTAGO DELENDA EST
Start at MEDENIN End at BEN GUERDENE
Day dist: 89.00 kms
Riding time: 3:18
Avg speed: 22.2
Max speed: 43.2
Beg day odo: 582.2 kms
End day odo: 671.40 kms
I got up late and lazy. I only had to do something in the neighborhood of 78 kms today. There was no reason to rush. I worked on the netbook, mostly on arranging pictures and preparing the log. At 10:00, I went down for breakfast and then back to my room to pack up. It was the first time so far that I had left the bike downstairs, so, carrying my stuff down was not an issue. I did that and then started wifying. I probably did not mention but one could only wify from the lobby. I wified for more than an hour and after exchanging some conversation w/ the receptionist, whose name was Hafsa, I loaded the stuff on faithful Spithas and hit the road.
The hotel
Medenine
Exiting Medenine
The road was flat and straight and I was able to speed w/o much effort all the time using a high (small) gear. I have no explanation for some things that happen repeatedly during my biking. On other occasions I have to struggle just to bike on a slight downhill. Today the road was flat and at times slightly uphill(I started at sea level and ended up in the mountains,) but the effort was minimal and the speed high. It could have been that there was no wind, for or against, but still this explanation is weak and doesn’t quite cut it. Question to the physicists out there: could it be different gravitational fields?
Refueling stations on the highway
When you roll like that you are happy and you do not care to take breaks so I did not stop for a long time.
The never ending road
One more photo with my new face
The never ending road
The only incident was that when I saw a cop on the highway who was there to stop and control cars, I stopped myself and asked him questions regarding transportation from Ben Guerdene to Tunis. The info I got was encouraging. It appeared that I would be able to get a bus ride out of Ben Guerdene to Tunis that same night. This would save a day of waiting.
The next thing of note was a pack of camels in the arid/desert land next to the highway.
Finally, 12 kms (according to the mile stones) before Ben Guerdene, I took my first stop, having decided it was time to for lunch. It was 17:30
The never ending road
Finally I entered the Ben Guerdene district
and the town itself
It was a rundown place, nothing important, almost a frontier’s town. It was definitely not worth spending the night there. At this point I must make a comment. People in this town and generally people from the Southern part of Tunisia seem to be different people from the northern part. Their facial features are different, they are definitively of shorter stature and of darker complexion. In addition they are visibly more provincial. Their manners do not recommend them. Lastly, this may be just me, the Arabic they speak, sounds to me harsher.
I entered the town at around 16:30 and literally took me one hour to locate the bus depot (gare routiere.) When I found it, it was one mile from the center. People in that town hardly speak any French and did not seem to be able to give any simple directions, including the police. I stopped five times at a police station that was on the way to ask the cops that were outside where the bus to Tunis stopped and got conflicting info each time. Something that should have taken 10 mins, literally took one hour.
Once at the depot the people were very polite and helpful. The issue was Spithas as the luggage compartment was fully taken. The employee at the ticket window had to go to the head of the station who said that I would have to travel tomorrow. Even when I offered to pay extra they said that the issue is space and money. Finally I just stepped into the headmaster’s office myself and told him that I could take Spithas apart and place him on top of the other luggage. The ticket employ rooted for me and Spithas carried the day. The ticket was 28 Dinars for me and 10 Dinars for Spithas, a total of 38 Dinars (€21,) pretty cheap for such a long ride.
I biked back to town to take a better peek and wandered around for about one hour I got something to eat and then biked back to the depot, which I had a hard time finding again.
In the hour and a half that remained I worked a bit on the computer and then had to see how Spithas would be loaded on the bus. I gave a generous tip to the man and he moved most of the stuff from one side of the under the bus trunk to the other to make room for Spithas. I only had to take the front wheel off and the rest fell in place. Thinking that the seats were numbered I waited outside but then it occurred to me as a good idea to install myself in my seat and then come out again. Thank God I had that idea, otherwise I would have ridden the entire trip standing. The bus reminded me of Greek busses in the sixties and early seventies. Not the best environment, and in particular the behavior of the passengers. But who cares? I was asleep for most of the ride and when the guy behind me asked me to raise the back of my seat I refused pointing at all the other seats that had not done so.
We arrived at Tunis central bus station at around 5:00.
CARTAGO DELENDA EST
Friday, 07 January, 2011 --- Day 07
Stats
Start at GABES End at MEDENIN
Day dist: 97.73 kms
Riding time: 3:41
Avg speed: 19.9
Max speed: 38.6
Beg day odo: 484.4 kms
End day odo: 582.2 kms
I got up rather late and went out victualizing.
The hotel
There were no supermarkets around so I had to go to the souq.
I found the stuff I was looking for and when I went to buy bread at the bakery there was no bread left and a line of people waiting for the next batch. Bread is very cheap (10 cents a loaf) but seems to be difficult to get hold of in Tunisia. When I later went back the people had “attacked” the freshly arrived batch. Fortunately there was something left for me too.
I went back, packed up, and hit the road. First I wanted to see the port. Soon, I found out that there are two ports, the fishing and the port of commerce. It was the latter one I was interested in, mainly due to the poems I’ve read that make reference to it as “the dark port of Gabes.” I followed directions, but it did not seem quite right. So I stopped and asked again. The French of the Tunisians outside Tunis is pretty bad and have a hard time communicating. I ended up asking a couple of bikers that were biking on the other side of the road. They were Spaniards and had completed exactly what I was in the process of doing myself. They were in their fifties and the impressive thing was that the man had only one leg. It burned me to ask how he managed to do all that but I refrained. They were good fellows, very pleasant, helpful, had a good sense of orientation, and told me that my best bet was to head in the opposite direction. I did that and entered the city again. It was now clear to me what I did wrong yesterday. It was the usual thing. Rather than turning left at the critical junction, I turned right and ended up in the rundown neighborhood and hotel rather than in the upscale part of town that I was now crossing.
One thing I’ve noticed in every town so far, which is also true in Gabes, is that for some reason there is always a major boulevard in the town whose name is “Boulevard of the environment.”
Downtown Gabes
I asked again and following directions, I ended up at the fishing port. As it turned out my original instructions were correct. Well that’s life. Still I got to see the town of Gabes.
At the fishing port I asked a cabbie and he explained to me how to go to the commercial port, “it is far” he said. Indeed it was approximately 6 kms and after getting lost and impeded
I found it thanks to two guys that when asked changed course and actually drove ahead of me in order to show me the exact location. After checking my passport the guards let me in. It was more like an industrial area and did not see the ships.
The romance of the poems I’ve read was lacking.
At that point I decided to hit the road towards Medenin. It was already 14:00 and I had 18 kms under my belt.
According to the signs, Medenin was 75 kms away. Piece of cake!!!!!
So I biked on in the usual dogged fashion. Once more the wind made things difficult and impeded my ride.
A stroke of luck, however, brought a 40km/h speeding truck right ahead of me and into the opposing wind. I DRAFTED for the next 7 kms. Drafting is such a pleasure. Drafting behind a truck gives you such a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. I was hardly pedaling but was doing 40 kms (multiply times 0.6 to get miles) into a head wind. This can only happen in fairy tales and in biker dreams. It only lasted for 7 kms but tempted me to buy a truck and hire a driver to just draft for the rest of the trip. As a note to the above I quote that drafting behind a pack of cyclists pales in comparison to drafting behind a truck which is the absolute form of drafting. It is like biking behind a moving solid wall. You wouldn’t mind even a “hurricane” headed against you.
The never ending road
I’ve noticed that kids’ behavior in Tunisia is very poor and have no respect as they have in other countries, notably Turkey. I had several verbal fights on the way w/ kids that wanted to grab the bike, were shouting, etc.
One more thing that is now clear is why there are so few gas stations along the way. It appears that most cars refuel at gas outlets like the one in the picture below, of which there are plenty.
The never ending road
By 18:00 it was night, almost pitch dark. I rode on and once more a few kms before entering Medenin there were series of restaurants like the one below, where the waiters were bbqing in front of the restaurant and sheep or sheep skins were hanging.
I entered the town at a reasonable hour and found a good hotel to stay, “Hotel El Kssour.”
I settled into my room. As I was getting ready to take a shower the phone rung and a man from the reception started asking me questions regarding what my next destination. When I told him that I was planning to go to Ben Guerdene, he asked me why. “What do you mean?” I said. He repeated the question and to get rid of him I just told him “to visit.” That ended the conversation. After that I went out to have something to eat, and returned to the hotel that had wifi available, of which I took full advantage. Just in case you ever find yourself in that hotel the wifi code is 1819wifi1819. As I was wifying, a man, that first went to the reception, came up to me, introduced himself as a policeman from the criminal department, and started asking questions regarding to where I had been and to what I intended to do next. As you may realize I was utterly surprised but decided to cooperate. I answered his questions and when I did that he left. There was not much to say, anyhow. I told him I was traveling by bike which he seemed to have known and that I am on the highway for most of the day. Among other things he asked me if I had been to Mahares. I told him no, even though the name did ring a bell. Later I checked my notes and Mahares was one of the towns I had biked through. I continued to wify and went to bed rather late.
Start at GABES End at MEDENIN
Day dist: 97.73 kms
Riding time: 3:41
Avg speed: 19.9
Max speed: 38.6
Beg day odo: 484.4 kms
End day odo: 582.2 kms
I got up rather late and went out victualizing.
The hotel
There were no supermarkets around so I had to go to the souq.
I found the stuff I was looking for and when I went to buy bread at the bakery there was no bread left and a line of people waiting for the next batch. Bread is very cheap (10 cents a loaf) but seems to be difficult to get hold of in Tunisia. When I later went back the people had “attacked” the freshly arrived batch. Fortunately there was something left for me too.
I went back, packed up, and hit the road. First I wanted to see the port. Soon, I found out that there are two ports, the fishing and the port of commerce. It was the latter one I was interested in, mainly due to the poems I’ve read that make reference to it as “the dark port of Gabes.” I followed directions, but it did not seem quite right. So I stopped and asked again. The French of the Tunisians outside Tunis is pretty bad and have a hard time communicating. I ended up asking a couple of bikers that were biking on the other side of the road. They were Spaniards and had completed exactly what I was in the process of doing myself. They were in their fifties and the impressive thing was that the man had only one leg. It burned me to ask how he managed to do all that but I refrained. They were good fellows, very pleasant, helpful, had a good sense of orientation, and told me that my best bet was to head in the opposite direction. I did that and entered the city again. It was now clear to me what I did wrong yesterday. It was the usual thing. Rather than turning left at the critical junction, I turned right and ended up in the rundown neighborhood and hotel rather than in the upscale part of town that I was now crossing.
One thing I’ve noticed in every town so far, which is also true in Gabes, is that for some reason there is always a major boulevard in the town whose name is “Boulevard of the environment.”
Downtown Gabes
I asked again and following directions, I ended up at the fishing port. As it turned out my original instructions were correct. Well that’s life. Still I got to see the town of Gabes.
At the fishing port I asked a cabbie and he explained to me how to go to the commercial port, “it is far” he said. Indeed it was approximately 6 kms and after getting lost and impeded
I found it thanks to two guys that when asked changed course and actually drove ahead of me in order to show me the exact location. After checking my passport the guards let me in. It was more like an industrial area and did not see the ships.
The romance of the poems I’ve read was lacking.
At that point I decided to hit the road towards Medenin. It was already 14:00 and I had 18 kms under my belt.
According to the signs, Medenin was 75 kms away. Piece of cake!!!!!
So I biked on in the usual dogged fashion. Once more the wind made things difficult and impeded my ride.
A stroke of luck, however, brought a 40km/h speeding truck right ahead of me and into the opposing wind. I DRAFTED for the next 7 kms. Drafting is such a pleasure. Drafting behind a truck gives you such a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. I was hardly pedaling but was doing 40 kms (multiply times 0.6 to get miles) into a head wind. This can only happen in fairy tales and in biker dreams. It only lasted for 7 kms but tempted me to buy a truck and hire a driver to just draft for the rest of the trip. As a note to the above I quote that drafting behind a pack of cyclists pales in comparison to drafting behind a truck which is the absolute form of drafting. It is like biking behind a moving solid wall. You wouldn’t mind even a “hurricane” headed against you.
The never ending road
I’ve noticed that kids’ behavior in Tunisia is very poor and have no respect as they have in other countries, notably Turkey. I had several verbal fights on the way w/ kids that wanted to grab the bike, were shouting, etc.
One more thing that is now clear is why there are so few gas stations along the way. It appears that most cars refuel at gas outlets like the one in the picture below, of which there are plenty.
The never ending road
By 18:00 it was night, almost pitch dark. I rode on and once more a few kms before entering Medenin there were series of restaurants like the one below, where the waiters were bbqing in front of the restaurant and sheep or sheep skins were hanging.
I entered the town at a reasonable hour and found a good hotel to stay, “Hotel El Kssour.”
I settled into my room. As I was getting ready to take a shower the phone rung and a man from the reception started asking me questions regarding what my next destination. When I told him that I was planning to go to Ben Guerdene, he asked me why. “What do you mean?” I said. He repeated the question and to get rid of him I just told him “to visit.” That ended the conversation. After that I went out to have something to eat, and returned to the hotel that had wifi available, of which I took full advantage. Just in case you ever find yourself in that hotel the wifi code is 1819wifi1819. As I was wifying, a man, that first went to the reception, came up to me, introduced himself as a policeman from the criminal department, and started asking questions regarding to where I had been and to what I intended to do next. As you may realize I was utterly surprised but decided to cooperate. I answered his questions and when I did that he left. There was not much to say, anyhow. I told him I was traveling by bike which he seemed to have known and that I am on the highway for most of the day. Among other things he asked me if I had been to Mahares. I told him no, even though the name did ring a bell. Later I checked my notes and Mahares was one of the towns I had biked through. I continued to wify and went to bed rather late.
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