Kia ora koutou from Aotearoa/New Zealand. The first of the Oldie Roadie blogs. The focus of these blogs will be first and foremost independent travel i.e. no tours. And for the most part will be tailored more for the older tourists who’s looking more for experience than thrills and spills.
Let’s get straight to it. In December 2024 I headed off to explore the North African nations of Morocco and Tunisia. Why Morocco? Why Tunisia? My usual response to such questions is Why not? But in the case of Morocco there was a bit of history behind it. 40 years ago my Kiwi mate, Henry, and myself took the plunge and hit the shores of Morocco. Our experiences then and there are well documented in my novel “Flight from Morocco” and as the title suggests things didn’t always go so smoothly. Look we were young and inexperienced, essentially Morocco was our first taste of a world beyond the comforts and certainties of the Western lifestyle. Now 40 years later, took a while I know, while reflecting back on my trip there I decided that the allure of Fez, Marrakesh, Casablanca was too much to ignore. So I did what’s become my go to response in these situations, I bought me a ticket. BTW living in Aotearoa/New Zealand almost always means a long time sitting on a plane so I try to incorporate as much as I can in any trip I take – the fortunate recipients of this policy were the people of Tunisia. OK, why Tunisia? Originally the idea was to travel across the Maghreb but the land border crossings are difficult or non-existent and due to time constraints, I only had a month, Algeria got dropped off the schedule. Tunisia, of course, is much smaller and all of the places I wanted to visit there were relatively close – so it won the weighted coin toss. Coming from Aotearoa we needed to stop off somewhere so I chose Qatar as it was a place I had yet to visit and therefore peaked my interest.
Qatar
It’s always interesting to look back on your expectations and compare them with the reality in front of your eyes. My only true motivation for going to Qatar was that I’d not gone before and every time I did the A-Z of countries that I’d been to I realized I would never complete it without the Q that Qatar offers – pretty sad I know. My expectation was that it would be a smaller less in your face version of Dubai which it is. But I liked it a hell of a lot more. It is a little glitzy as can be seen above but it’s not got the in your face unattainable affluence of Dubai. The main downtown area is small and welcoming with a small touristy souk and a few not too overt tourist restaurants. Outside of downtown at least in the area of our hotel was pretty much – and in this way similar to Dubai as well – dominated by sub-continent folk. Pretty down to earth stuff. Lots of Indian and Turkish cheap as restaurants.
What did we do:
- Checked out the small downtown touristy area and had a touristy meal.
- Walked along the corniche in the day.
- Walked along the corniche at night.
- Paid for a driver to take us around to see the sights.
- Checked out the world cup final venue.
- Went to the beach – that was an experience for a Kiwi boy who rocks up to Piha (look it up) in his shorts and jandals (flip flops), throws his towel on the sand and makes a dash for the water. In Qatar you have a sectioned off area that you pay to enter $18 I think. But once in you can access all the facilities – sunbather, volleyball court, football pitch, gym, restaurants etc. It wasn’t unpleasant but still prefer the wide expansive beauty of Piha.
- Mall – well my wife wanted to buy a few things and didn’t want to go to the beach so we sort of left her to it.
Well that was about it. My first blog and had to start it with Qatar. But actually I quite liked it and when we flew back to Aotearoa we stopped off again for 24 hours and revisited all of the above almost all of the above. Loved our hotel there the staff were unbelievably friendly particularly the young Ugandan guy on the door, Roger. He showed us to the local park, gave directions on the best Turkish restaurant, answered lots of questions, organized Ubers and gave them directions, he couldn’t do enough. The only time he wasn’t there is when we went to leave and another young African guys helped us to load our bags in the hotel airport shuttle. My wife overcome with gratitude leaned forward as we left and called out “thanks for everything Roger”.
Morocco
Just the names evokes so much exotic imagery. And for me Morocco had always been the place of hustlers, hustlers of hashish and carpets who just kept coming at you and occupied even your dreams at night. But behind that I recall the narrow alleyways of the medina, the kaftans, the strange smells and sights of a world that I had only peaked behind the curtains of. But mostly the fear, the fear of the unknown, the irrational fear, the chill of the dawn when the muzzein calls the faithful to prayer. I knew I would return to and one day I just said to my wife, let’s do it!
The original plan for Morocco was to fly into Casablanca then to a circuit back firstly getting a train up to Fes, then onto the Todra Gorge, out to the Saharan town of Merzouga before passing through the Atlas Mountains into Marrakesh before returning to Casa. I love a circuit. However, after discovering that the nighttime temperatures in the gorge and the Atlas would drop below zero at this time of year and as I was travelling with my wife and son, I had to curb my enthusiasm and stick to a straight forward diet of Fes and Marrakech the two places that I had failed to get to back in 1985.
Casablanca
We flew into Casablanca in the late afternoon in late December. Morocco is surprisingly chilly at this time of year and many tourists from Europe have made that mistake of heading for North Africa in the northern winter only to find it could actually be colder than France or Spain at this time. Our first cultural moment was waiting for the airport train to take us to the dock area where we had booked our accommodation. We hung out at the cafe on the platform. But this was no cafe back home. There were serious French speaking waiters running about in their black and whites bringing cups of coffee and tasty little pastries that only the best cafes back home will offer. We got so caught up in absorbing the vibe of the cafe that we missed the announcement (in French) that our train was about to depart. We raced down the platform only to find that there was not a seat to be had. Tough shit, our first time to “rough it”. Then we were off and it began to sink in that I was back, that I had returned, it was a nice moment one that I’m no doubt wasting on you.
The first problem that confronts you as an independent traveller once you arrive in the town/city is how to get from train/bus station to your hotel. Inevitably in less developed countries this will mean getting a taxi. But of course you don’t want to get ripped off. My approach is always to ask first and if it’s only a matter of a few dollars to go with it, if it’s something ridiculous I make what I consider a more reasonable offer and bargain from there, if not I move on to the next taxi. Once they realise you’re not going to succumb to the first offer you at least will knock it back to something more realistic – at least in your terms. I think we paid around 50 dirham (about $10) which was a bit steep having said all of the above as it wasn’t too far to our accommodation – the Moroccan House – not bad though for the first taxi ride on the first night in a new country (newish) after a long flight.
The Moroccan House was clearly a well known hotel and well situated for our purposes close to downtown Casablanca. The place is set out in the style of a Riad – old Moorish hotels – we had a huge room on the top floor with balcony all for $80. Another habit of mine in recent times is to ask at my hotel where’s a good place to get a kai. The manager gave us a clear instruction and we walked down some back streets and came across a lovely little atmospheric restaurant with another very serious French waiter. Can’t remember the name sorry but I’m sure there’s plenty of them around – cheap as chips and set the tone beautifully for the rest of our stay.
There wasn’t a hell of a lot to do or see in Casa but it had a comfortable almost European flavour to it. There were plenty of parks and nice little eateries close to our hotel. Probably the nicest time of all was our last night in Casa when we got a taxi to drop us down one end of the corniche and we walked back to the magnificent Hassan II Mosque.
We used Casa as a home base flying in then staying again on both our return from Fes and from Marrakech.
Fes
Fes is most famous for its medina which I think is the biggest or at least longest in the world in with a couple of hundred kilometres of alleyways. In 1985 we’d gapped it from Morocco within 24 hours of our arrival which I was quite happy about at the time but in more recent years I deeply regretted not having made it to the fabled city. Our arrival in Casablanca had quickly dissipated any lingering fears I had carried with me since the failed visit of 1985 and was chomping at the bit to get up to Fes. Our first foray into the medina was somewhat of a let down as we stuck pretty rigidly to the main thoroughfares so as not to get lost (though we inevitably did) and these were full of tourist paraphernalia and tour groups from Europe.
The small family owned restaurant in the medina tasty, filling, exotic, friendly and cost us around $15 for the 3 of us.
The next day we hired a guide (I know, something I am very loath to do normally but in the medina you have no idea where you are and there were a few places we wanted to make sure we saw, none the least the famed tanneries and I wasn’t about to miss these) an old grumpy guy in a hooded cloak and a strong French accent. Much of the time he spent growling at me for ducking down narrow side alleys and poked me in the ribs several times when I didn’t pay attention to his spiel. He was perfect for us. We now left the tourist hordes behind and explored the twisted alleyways of the magnificent medina. Yes he dropped us at the odd carpet manufacturer and one or two other places specialising in tourist paraphernalia but we were never pressured and he looked if anything less keen on hanging around these spots than we did. The only thing that pissed me off was when he took us to a very flash, authentic looking restaurant that was a solid stone wall tourist trap – you know the very places to avoid when they hand you the set menu card. It was run like a military operation and we felt like we were sitting on a treadmill. He left us there and on his return I mentioned that I didn’t like going to those mass production line restaurants and to his credit he acknowledged that. We had found an excellent little family run eatery in an open space in the medina the day before.
One major piece of advice for anyone travelling in North Africa ignore at your peril. I would strongly advise anyone not matter how tempting it is do not book accommodation within the medina. We stayed in a beautiful riad in the Fes medina, fortunately it was not too far from the drop off point for our taxi and the route was signposted. However, every time you stepped out of the riad and headed into the depths of medina you inevitably got hopelessly lost. Don’t get me wrong there’s plenty of young guys or kids who are willing to show you your way back but you’ve got to be prepared to pay for the service.
Our last night of 3 in Fes with the great expanse of the medina behind me. It was a great thrill to finally get there after 40 years.
Meknes
Only 40 minutes or so by train from Fes is the town of Meknes which we decided to spend a day exploring. Unfortunately, the heart of the town was being redone while we were there and there really wasn’t a lot to see. We hired a horse and cart (I know embarrassing right – our excuse was we didn’t really know what we could see and we preferred putting our money into the hands of a local guy to show us around than some flash tourist operator) and had a nice meal in the plaza but other than that there isn’t a lot to say.
Marrakech
Marrakech of course is the most evocative name in all of North Africa it was brought to the attention of most Westerners as a hippy pilgrimage in the 60s and 70s. Our experience of Marrakech had an inauspicious start as we realised that I’d booked a place 45 minutes out of town. None of the local taxis were prepared to take us there but as is the experience of the individual traveller things always seem to work out though quite often not in the way you expected. Fortunately, we’d stopped at a restaurant for lunch across the road from the railway station and the staff there did all they could to help. Eventually the manager got a hold of the hotel owner and told him our dilemma to which he sent a driver to come and pick us up for no extra cost.
So far so good but the fact remained that we were 45 minutes out of town without any means of transportation. We’d booked for 4 nights and the owner (above) wasn’t at all pleased to hear that we wanted to cancel. It was a lovely spot but totally impractical for us so we agreed to stay the night and he put on a driver for us to get back to Marrakech where we had by now arranged to stay in an apartment downtown. The driver apparently took individual travellers on various trips in the region, so we booked him to take us on a day trip into the Atlas mountains and then as it was my son’s birthday we booked him to take us to go 4wd in the desert.
The apartment downtown was perfect for us, 5 minutes walk from the downtown area where we found pleasant little eateries and all the amenities of a modern town. Also we were within walking distance of the historic part of Marrakech in particular the huge square of Jemaa el-Fnaa with it’s heady mix of African, Berber, Arab people and culture, food stalls, snake charmers etc. There is plenty of tourist literature on the tourists sights of Marrakech so I won’t attempt to compete with what’s already out there.
I was thrilled to get a taste of life in the Atlas mountains especially as I’d written off this part of the trip as mentioned above. I hadn’t realised how close it was to Marrakech. The ride up into the Atlas was spectacularly beautiful with not just the natural scenery but also the pink clay homes of the villages clinging to the sides of the mountains and often standing astride the river. Some of the gloss of the day was lost a little bit for me when our driver hooked us up with a local guide who was a pretty decent guy don’t get me wrong but herded us toward the mainstream tourist groups following a set path up the mountainside and then later delivered us to one of the many tourist restaurants where the ugly spectre of the set menu once again confronted us but being outside in the mountains my tolerance levels were tuned to a much more laid back setting. It had been an awesome day my only lingering regret was not getting to spend more time there.
I don’t feel the need to look for exciting activities when I travel as a rule the experience of travel and the soaking in of the local lifestyle with a few sights along the way is generally sufficient to whet my appetite. But call me hypocritical if you will I don’t stick religiously to any of my travel ground rules, sometimes I will engage in touristy behaviour. This was one of those times and being my son’s birthday it provided a convenient excuse to do something that I thought would be a lot of fun which was driving the 4wd in the desert with the back drop of the Atlas mountains. We had the place to ourselves, in fact there was a multitude of resorts along the way all virtually identical and all completely empty with 4wds, camels and inexplicably full sized swimming pools on offer. I haven’t got the cost breakdown but for a couple of hours in the desert a full meal for lunch (yes set menu) and transport there and back came to not too much and it was a fun day out. Just on a final note something that struck me on the way back into Marrakech which may or may not give an insight into the local culture. As business like as our driver was as we were driving out through the desert we came across a woman and a small child attempting to clamber on the back of a small motorbike taxi. We really had no idea of what was going on but our driver stopped asked me if I minded sharing the van we were travelling in and when I said no of course not helped the lady and the child into the van dropping them off in a small town on the outskirts of Marrakech. After some time the driver explained to me that the woman was Spanish and had been abandoned by her Moroccan husband who worked in the desert (probably in a resort) and she had tried unsuccessfully to track him down. It was a very touching and poignant moment note to finish our trip in Morocco on.
Tunisia
Having arrived directly from the relatively modern developed city of Casablanca our first impressions, no our lingering impressions of Tunisia were of a far less developed country one that was less set up for the international traveller in terms of tourist infrastructure and much more challenging for those of Anglo-Saxon descent as French was very much the lingua franca with non-Arabic tourists. Now we could see how easy it had been in Morocco and that a new challenge was set in front of us.
Tunis
Sometimes as much as you try to avoid the pitfalls of international travel they somehow manage to wrangle their way in your path. I had booked flights on Tunis Air to get us from Casablanca to Tunis, there were two flights a day, one at 2pm and one inextricably at 2am. We were just kicking back in our hotel on our last night in Casablanca before heading off to bed when for some reason I flicked over into my junk mail folder and discovered that our flight the next day at 2pm had been cancelled and that we were now booked on the 2am flight and not for the following day the flight had been brought forward to tonight. So it was a case of sorry guys pack your stuff we’re off to the airport. As we headed for the airport the reality sunk in, we would be breaking one of my key travel rules i.e. never arrive in a strange town (particularly in a country you weren’t familiar with) after dark. And here we were arriving at 4a.m. On top of this was the realisation as previously mentioned that booking a hotel in the medina is probably not a good idea. The only thing working in our favour was that our taxi driver was resolute about finding our hotel for us and lugging our not unsubstantial luggage around the darkened, emptiness of the massive Tunis medina as the taxi could not negotiate it’s way through the narrow alleyways. After nearly 45 minutes we finally managed to make contact with the hotel owner and much to our relief we found ourselves in a beautiful old hotel with a large apartment including 2 decent sized bedrooms. Having had very little sleep it was off to bed crashing until late morning.
Breakfast was provided on the roof of the hotel and provided us with quite a view of the extent of the medina. Later, I slipped across the alleyway and bought a couple of greasy flatbread sandwiches for my son and I – clearly health standards here were far more basic than in Morocco – and we headed off to explore the neighbourhood. This area of Tunis was full of grubby little cafes. We stopped in for a coffee at one but immediately came up against the language barrier and found that there was very little patience for our stumbling attempts to make ourselves understood. After a while we found a taxi and on impulse decided to head out to the ruins of the great civilisation of Carthage. Again we had a lot of trouble getting the message through to the driver and what we didn’t realize is that Carthage is a ruin that is spread over a huge area just outside of Tunis and the driver was unsure which part of the ruin to drop us at.
When we saw that there was nothing much to see where he was about to drop us I diverted us to the small picturesque town of Sidi Bou Said which has a certain similarity to Santorini in Greece. It is a lovely little town to walk around though a little overrun with European tourists. To get back to Tunis we decided to take the train. Unbeknownst to us as we stood at the derelict station the train was in a dreadful state of disrepair with very little seating and a door that wouldn’t close properly. Eventually it didn’t move at all and fortunately an Algerian couple were able to explain to us that the line was under repair and we had to change trains. By the time we returned to Tunis we were ready to hit the hay but it was already dark the rain had set in and we were not sure how to find our hotel. It was rush hour in Tunis and none of the taxis were now available so we dragged our feet along the main boulevard. Again we found ourselves in the medina in the dark trying to negotiate our way back to our hotel which we finally managed thanks to GPS.
One thing that had surprised us as we walked along the main drag of Tunis was the number of bars and the copious amounts local people appeared to be imbibing. We had noticed a few back street bars in Casablanca but here in Tunis local people were quite overt about their drinking which we hadn’t expected in an Islamic country.
That night we talked about getting a driver to take us around Carthage with the hotel proprietor. We discussed terms and in the morning we were all set to head off. We visited various sites of Carthage but found that there wasn’t a hell of a lot to see. Though one of the sites was located right next door to the presidential residence and us I manoeuvred my way to getting a particular angle with my camera a guard armed with a sub-machine guard accosted me and asked to check through the photos to see that I hadn’t tried to get a shot of his excellency sunbathing naked by the pool. Despite the poor state of the ruins we had a good day pottering about and the driver did stop at a magnificent mosque and a few other places of note.
We later returned to Tunis for our flight home and as so often happens when your return to somewhere familiar we found a great affection for it and saw a different side to it. On our return we made sure we stayed in a hotel outside the medina and thus had the freedom to wander around at night and discovered a number of quality, cheap eateries. People seemed more open and friendly than our first experience and we even returned to the medina visiting the magnificent Al Zaytuna mosque and its magnificent minaret which dominates the skyline of the Tunis medina.
Sousse and El Jem
There were a number of options available to us from here in the end we settled on travelling down to Sousse on the coast which also allowed us to visit the ampitheatre of El Jem – a day trip from Sousse. But first we needed to get out of the Tunis medina with all of our luggage. We’d arranged for the driver who had taken us to Carthage to drop us at the louage station – louages are scheduled mini-buses which are the way one travels inter-city in Tunisia – they are quick, cheap and comfortable (but only leave once full). Unfortunately, the driver did not show. However, I knew that his mum owned the store opposite our hotel so trying desperately to make myself understood I asked her what had happened. After some time a young man arrived on a bicycle who turned out to be our saviour. Not only did he speak English he also turned out to be the brother of the absent driver. I admit I did lay a bit of a guilt trip on him as his brother had let us down and we were now stranded in the medina but he was an honourable young man who hailed a taxi and helped the driver negotiate his way into the medina to pick us up.
We were dropped at the louage station and were immediately approached by several different men asking where we wanted to go. They bundled us on to an empty louage and we sat and waited for it to fill. After 20 minutes or so nothing was happening so I approached the driver and indicated that I was prepared to pay for the remaining seats as long as he dropped us directly out our hotel rather than at the louage station. This was a win-win scenario – the driver had a fully paid louage and we were able to head off immediately and with the added assurance that we would not be floundering around trying to find our hotel at the other end – the cost to us was minimal maybe an extra $10.
Sousse was not so long ago a major destination for European tourists drawn by it’s pristine beaches and well established tourist infrastructure. The beaches and to some extent the tourist infrastructure still exist but in 2015 there was a terrorist attack targeting tourists on the beach which destroyed not only the tourism industry in Sousse but set back the industry across Tunisia. Once again our hotel was in the medina though fortunately this time only just inside with a superb restaurant next door, we were set. Sousse has a thoroughly pleasant downtown area with plenty of outstanding restaurants and small eateries. We took a plunge into the Mediterranean but this time of year it was a little too chilly so we aborted pretty quickly.
The next day accompanied by a staff member from our hotel who had a day off which he chose to spend with us we headed off to El Jem. According to all the tourist paraphernalia El Jem is the second most impressive ampitheatre after the colosseum in Rome. In Rome there are long lines to get in and the cost of entry is not cheap. Not so in El Jem, we paid a pittance to get in and the place was virtually empty. Later in the day we returned to Sousse exploring some of the historical sights in particular the impressive kasbah.
Tataouine
The place I most wanted to visit in all of Tunisia was Tataouine. Tataouine is on the edge of the Sahara but the great attraction for me was the villages that surround the town. It was a bit of a hike to get there. From Sousse we broke the trip with a stopover in Gabes which had nothing of interest to the international traveller. The louage trip to Tataouine was exhilirating as we swept across the increasingly sparse landscape.
Then the fun began. There were 2 or 3 taxis waiting outside the louage station. We were the only non-locals in the vicinity. We showed the address of our Air BnB to the drivers and to our dismay they all shrugged their shoulders. It was hard to believe at Tataouine is essentially a small town built around the main road south, how could they not know this address? Eventually they bundled us into a taxi and we headed off down the main road, meanwhile the driver was engaged with a loud and sometimes heated discussion on his phone. He didn’t seem to know where to go and then to add to our confusion he handed me the phone. I was relieved to find that the guy on the phone spoke English. However, he also had no idea where our Air BnB was. He said he would try to help meanwhile the driver had turned off the main road and headed out of town. We figured he must now know where he was going as he put in a burst of speed. After 15 minutes or so we were becoming a bit anxious as we had left the town of Tataouine well behind us then I saw a sign reading Chenini which I recognised as one of the main villages that we were hoping to visit. I pointed out the sign Chenini to the driver and he smiled and nodded his head. I then assumed I’d made another stuff up a la Marrakech and booked accommodation miles out of town. However, this time it was not the case. As we drove up the steep road leading up into the village we passed two young local men walking along. The driver stopped the taxi and spoke to them, I assumed to find the directions to our Air BnB. To our surprise one of the young men then turned to us and told us in impeccable English that the driver could not find our Air BnB. He suggested to us that we pay off the taxi, take the opportunity to explore Chenini (which we had intended to do the next day) and then in a couple of hours we could catch the louage back into Tataouine where it would drop us outside of our Air BnB. In the meantime we could leave our luggage at his cafe which was not far. Confused? So were we. I had no idea what was going on and assumed we’d been scammed but I wasn’t sure what the scam was. He did not pressure us to buy anything at his cafe, nor did we and he organized for a louage once we were ready to drop us back at our accommodation in Tataouine for a pittance.
We had Chenini to ourselves – well for all but the last 15 minutes or so when a tour bus arrived. The place was magnificent and a great place to explore. Despite all the apparent confusion over our accommodation the louage driver knew exactly where to take us. The Air BnB turned out to be one of the best places I’ve stayed anywhere. It was large with 2 big bedrooms, a large kitchen and space on the roof to hang our washing and take in the views across the town to the mountains beyond. But best of all was the host. He was a lovely, jovial, bumbling guy (who also spoke reasonable English) who was willing to accommodate all of our wishes – the perfect host. We asked him about seeing the villages the next day and he told us to leave it with him.
The taxi arrived pretty much on time with an English speaking driver who – just to add to the confusion – told me he was the guy I’d spoken to on the phone yesterday. He was the perfect fit for us. Taking us first to Ksar Ouled Soltan once used by the Berbers as storage for their granaries more recently famed for the exploits of Luke Skywalker and his pals. On arrival on a very cold morning I popped into the small onsite store to order myself a coffee I found myself in a small room in the corner sat around a table and huddled together as if for warmth were men of the desert with their wrap around shawls and long beards these guys were from a different world. There were no other visitors to the now abandoned village, no entrance fee and we were able to wander around and clamber about at will in this stunning and iconic place.
The driver went above and beyond what we had arranged to do and see as we visited several more abandoned villages each with it’s own distinct characteristics. It was very rewarding to have travelled all this way and to end the day feeling the sense of achievement that we had seen all that we had wanted and more.
The final leg of our trip was to go to the tourist island of Djerba. It was not what I wanted to do but my travelling companions were craving comfort and an end to travelling in the back of the louage. So it was a compromise position which in the end none of us were happy with. It was the off season in Djerba, the beautiful beaches and tourist cafes that we had anticipated did not materialise. Djerba held little of interest for us and we were happy when it came time to fly back to Tunis where we thoroughly enjoyed our last day in North Africa.