We took our shoes and socks off and it is lovely to feel warm, soft sand between my toes. As we walk along I notice that a lot of the beach huts are similar to those in 'Donkey Kong Country' on the SNES. I take photo's of Ali walking with her feet in the sea and try hard to get a real feeling of Tunisia in the photos... only to get pissed off that the only photos Ali takes of me are close ups of my sweaty, snot ridden face. Sigh. While taking in the closed beach huts and glimmering sea I stood on a twig which embedded itself in my foot. Yelping, I begged Ali to remove it then ran to stand in an estuary to soothe my sore foot in the salt water. My moment of calm was ruined by Ali saying "That's sewage leading into the sea." Nice one.
We came off the beach and as I sat on the steps putting my socks and Ali's converses back on I heard "Wipe the sand off your socks before putting your sandy feet in my shoes. Sand stains you know." What, the whole three grains on my sock? Alright then. We walked down an alley which took us into town and I casually kicked a stone. Ali snapped "Did you just kick that stone to piss me off? Are you trying to stain my shoes?" honestly, she said it like I was trying to ruin her life. It was only an effing stone. I walked off in a sulk, only to be photographed by a Tunisian man from his window. This only made me more angry and I shouted at the crowing cockerel to "FUCK - OFF!!!" I don't know what it is about this place. It's meant to be relaxing but any time I am in public I feel incredibly angry and on edge.
There was a robot and space ship shop in town, and by that I don't mean Tunisia is giving NASA a run for their money. I mean the decor was of planes and space ships and robots as a way of drawing in the impressed tourist. We went into the government owned shop where there are price tags on stock and the shop assistants don't harass you to buy things, they just stalk you like you have three ASBO tags for stealing jingling about your person like tacky black bracelets. The shop assistant tried to be funny with Ali and asked "You are English yes? And your friend (i.e; me) is Jamaican?" Oh, AHAHAHAHAHA! Excuse me while I roll about the floor in mirth. After being in the shop for half an hour, being stalked the whole time by a burly security guard, I brought some "snide" Dior sunglasses and the shop assistant / moonlighting comedian said to me "Ah nooor! What happened to your nose?" God. Help. Me.
Ali and I headed back to the hotel to watch movies on our hotel room TV. There is little night life in Port El Kantoui but we didn't mind. We aren't big drinkers and came more for the sunshine and the beach.
Day Four:
Ali is feeling poorlier. We were going to head into Sousse but instead stayed local and went to Port El Kantoui's Botanic Zoo. A worker there put a parrot on my head and arm for photos then asked for two dinar. You don't get owt for nowt these days. We fed the llama's and stroked the chiauaua's before walking around the zoo. There were lots of different birds that we chucked seed at and got stalked by yet another cat. There are cats everywhere in Tunis. Ali and this cat had a certain bond and it followed her, sashaying around her legs like the little flooze it is. This bond was swiftly broken by the appearance of a new cat on the scene which Ali stroked. That was it for the other cat. No more sashaying, no more following. It punched its paws at Ali's hands like the cat in 'Scary Movie Two' and dug a nail deep in to Ali's hand, making it bleed. She was concerned about getting ill from it but it wasn't rabid, just jealous. The cat continued to follow us either glowering or showing its tummy to us, depending on it's quickly fluctuating moods.
We came to the goats and fed the big fat greedy one which was climbing up the gate in unimaginable starvation judging from the size of it, the greedy git. Can goats get Prader Willi? There appeared to be two half goat half sheep animals that were two of the cutest things I have ever seen. So adorable. The zoo didn't take long to go around but for the sake of five dinar it took some time out of the day.
We walked to the port and admired the boats of the wealthy before sitting on a bench on the jetty and watched the fishermen and the clearness of the water. In some vain attempt at feeling better we brought a deliciously fresh orange juice from a stall then went back to the hotel room.
Ali sat on the balcony while I read '1984', a brilliant book. Later we played mini golf and our banter was intermingled with our frustration with being ill and being harassed constantly in public. It became quite the competitive game. When we took our clubs back we were asked for the tenth time if we wanted to pay 60 dinar for a massage and it took all my patience not to scream "NO, NO, I DO NOT WANT A MASSAGE! I DON'T LIKE PEOPLE TOUCHING ME WHO I DON'T KNOW! STOP ASKING!" Or, as Hagar the Horrible would say: "@*#!!?&*@!"
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