Le Grand Bleu in Gammarth.
Bettino Craxi's final resting place, Hammamet.
In Hammamet, the cemetery entrance reminds one just a little bit of Tatooine.
December 18, 2010. Don’t get me wrong: I as an outsider have no right or reason to condemn or judge the country, nor do I wish to. Who am I to say that corruption or inequality - or any other charges of wrongdoing - are any more serious than in any other State? The point is this: everything seemed FINE. And this worried me. As a tourist enjoying an impossible and absolute comfort and peace – as one standing in a calm before the proverbial storm – I just had the feeling that it would not be for long.
The next morning I made my way by taxi to the city of Tunis to meet Abed. I looked around me. My impression of Tunis was that it was – yes – rather busy but no more so than any other big city. Given this sunny day, everything glowed in its splendor, so the section of the city I kicked around in just before lunch – Place de l’Independence, a park and fountain area facing a few governmental buildings with subtle Ottoman, Arab and Islamic influences that lend Tunisian architecture an appearance all its own – was equally lovely.
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