Christmas At The End Of The Road

When Ibn Battutah visited Tunis in 1325 he had barely set off on his epic journey from Morocco to virtually all corners of the known world. Arriving at what was then one of the greatest cities of the East, he had a sudden attack of feeling sorry for himself:

"So at last we reached the town of Tunis, and the townsfolk came out to welcome the travellers. On all sides they came forward with greetings and questions to one another, but not a soul said a word of greeting to me, since there was none of them that I knew. I felt so sad at heart on account of my loneliness that I could not restrain the tears that started to my eyes, and wept bitterly. But one of the pilgrims [he was travelling in company with Haj pilgrims to Mecca], realizing the cause of my distress, came up to me with a greeting and friendly welcome, and continued to comfort me with friendly talk until I entered the city..."

Although in better shape than old Ibn after more than seven months on the road, I could feel some sympathy for his plight passing Xmas away from family and friends in a place where there is barely a trace of festive spirit to be found. Its quite disorientating to find life so absolutely normal all around you at such a time.

Still, you make the best of things, and a trip to Tunis Cathedral to attend 'not quite midnight' mass at least offered up a passingly familiar rendition of Silent Night, sung in French in the company of a packed congregation of black africans immigrants and French tourists. We spent Xmas day itself visiting the magnificent Bardo Museum, with its superlative collection of Roman mosaics showing lively scenes of everyday life, and a fair collection of marble statues of nubile young gods such as Venus wearing not a lot of present wrapping. The big day was rounded off with a slap up Mrs Miggins meal at a fancy restaurant sporting a pint size Xmas tree (the first I have seen). It was all rather convivial and turned out to be quite an enjoyable day all factors considering.

Obiwan Outfits

Travelling around Western Libya and Southern Tunisia its easy to imagine at times that you`ve been transported to the Planet Tatooine from Star Wars, which, incidentally, is named after a real Tunisian town named Tataouine. The first Star Wars movie was filmed here and in Matmata we stayed in a trogledyte hotel which was used as the set for a restaurant scene. It still has the original latex sci-fi fittings surrounding the windows and doors of the cave bar. Everywhere here you see men wearing traditional all-encompassing "burnouse" cloaks to keep out the cold, giving the impression of an Obiwan outfitters convention gone mad. If I catch sight of a Jedi knight I really will start to think I`m going mad.

The Berber culture bridges the boundaries between these two countries and there are many similarities one can see when you cross the frontier. Both have impressive medieval fortified granary structures in their hill country, enabling the Berbers to store their precious grain supplies safe from the raids of Arab tribesmen from the coastal plains. Some of these structures are still in use and I was shown grain that had been laid down in the 1960s and was still considered usable. Trogledyte houses are also a feature of both countries. However, the most incredible site of all is the wonderfully preserved desert caravan city of Ghadames in Libya. This mud built city at a remote oasis was once a major entrepot on the trans-saharan trade route, dealing in everything from gold and ivory to the importation of black african slaves. It is divided into several distinct quarters each pertaining to a different clan family of the city, with the whole area of habitation comprising a maze of covered streets, creating the impression of a subterranean city lit by skylights.

In other respects though, Libya and Tunisia seem a million miles apart. As you cross the frontier you leave behind the restrained, almost sleepy feel of Libya, to be confronted with a much more vibrant, and frankly European, experience in Tunisia. This is a country firmly located in the French speaking world, and in Tunis it has a capital city that replicates the grand boulevards and art deco architecture of Paris, as well as having patisserie shops to die for. Much as I loved the easy feel of Libya I was beginning to get tired of its restrictiveness and lack of buzz by the end, plus I was getting quite desperate for a beer. Our first taste of alcohol in three weeks was almost like a religious experience when the moment finally arrived!

Tea In The Sahara

I've been drinking quite a lot of tea lately, generally of the green variety, brewed up in a knackered old pot on a stick fire in a vast expanse of sand. We've been traversing the deepest reaches of the Sahara for the best part of a week with our Toureg tribesman guides. They're a hell of a lot of fun, and do like a nice cuppa as often as possible, mostly I suspect because the extended ritual of the brewing process gives them every opportunity for a good old chinwag. Each thimblefull of the sugary liqueur is presented to you with a lovingly crafted foam head that will have taken a good twenty minutes of brewing and repeated pouring to create. In Libya, it is a criminal offence to drink alcohol, so you can't blame the people for making the most of those other more humble beverages that are available.

Libya has been a breath of fresh air after Egypt, though I have to admit that I had one of the most interesting and insightful encounters of the trip on my long bus journey to the Libyan border. If all Egyptians were like the chap I passed the hours with in deep conversation then it would be a very fine country indeed. Libya has unreservably been an amazing experience however, and much of this is because of the extremely friendly and good natured attitude of the people. In fact a customs official actually gave us money at the border to buy coffees because we'd not been able to change currency by that stage, something I couldn't quite imagine happening at Dover. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm getting a thing for totalitarian states as I haven't enjoyed a country this much since I left Syria!

I spent my birthday as sober as a judge wandering the spectacular ruins of Cyrene, an atmospheric ancient Greek city perched on a cliff overlooking the blue Mediterranean. It was rather overgrown a bit like Termessos in Turkey, but much more extensive and easier to work out. We had the place completely to ourselves which would be unimaginable in any of the other Mediterranran countries we've visited.

However, the highlight has been a week away from the world in the Sahara. It's easy to understand why people fall in love with the Sahara, it is breathtakingly beautiful in south-west Libya, everything you ever imagine a desert to be. Apart from our Toureg guides, we hardly saw another sole, local or tourist for the whole time we toured around. Early one morning I climbed a 200m dune and watched the dawn arrive. I could see for miles in every direction and there was nothing but sand dunes and solitude, framed by the fantastical wind sculpted pinacles of a distant mountain range upon the horizon. As the sun burnished the sand a blazing orange colour I thought to myself that this was perhaps the most beautiful place I had ever seen. A few days later we even managed to take a swim in a tiny lake tucked in the folds of an enveloping high dune, finding the water so salty one could simply float. The improbably of taking a dip in the middle of a desert amused me no end.

Not Exactly Ice Cold In Alex

I'm in Alexandria for the evening. It's not quite the place I'd imagined it to be from reading Laurence Durrell's 'The Alexandria Quartet', though I suppose it does have a faded sort of charm despite the disappearance of virtually everything that made it one of the very greatest cities of the Ancient World. Michael Palin described it as like Cannes with acne, which strikes me as generous. To my mind it's more like a post apocalyse Bournemouth, only with a lot more sunshine and far fewer grannies. It's just an overnight stop really, as I have to catch a bus in the morning to the Libyan border, in order to catch up with my latest group who I mislaid a few days ago in Cairo.

I've just about managed not to tire of classical ruins in the past couple of weeks. This is something of an achievement as there really are rather a lot of them in Egypt. Our couple of days sailing down the Nile in feluccas provided a welcome respite in which to summon the energy to tackle Luxor, home of the superlative Karnak Temple, the Valley of the Kings and a whole bag of other Pharoanic bits and bobs which would simply astonish in isolation, but which can almost seem missable in this neck of the woods.

The shame in a way is that Egypt as a country does not live up to the splendour of its heritage. I've found the people and general atmosphere here among the least appealing of the entire trip. You are hassled constantly and in a much more unpleasant manner than in India, and you often encounter examples of flagrant deception where people backtrack on an agreed price in order to extract more money from you. Of course it's not a wealthy place and the people lead hard lives and are poorly paid. But the same is true in many of the places I have visited in the Middle East and elsewhere, and in these cases I have found the people more courteous and honourable in their dealings. All in all, I'm quite looking forward to escaping to Libya (which is probably not a statement you read very often).

Still the departure is tinged with sadness as well. In the past few weeks I've broken the habit of falling in love with the countries I've visited, by going for a fellow traveller instead. It's been the highlight of my trip around the Eastern Mediterranean, but the inevitable point of parting was reached after a final few days sojourn in Cairo, exploring the nooks and crannies of the Islamic and Coptic quarters. Still, we plan to meet for further travel in a few months time which is a very exciting prospect. I feel sure old Ibn Battutah would approve. He was quite a fan of Cairo and his Travels are full of references to his many medieval travel romances.