In a beautiful
Mediterranean resort outside the town of Hammamet, fellow travellers
were reporting that camels were on the beach every day and
where was I? ‒ the only
committed camel-phile in our little group.
Where I was most
of the time, was wandering with travel buddy in Hammamet's old
medina, the magnetic
focal point in this location. The adjacent cemetery also required
lengthy browsing. It was good to start our explorations early morning
along with the residents, enjoying countless cups of excellent coffee
at every opportunity. Thus plenty of attractions kept me away from
the beach.
The very first day travel
buddy had an experience that by
rights was mine ... as I slumbered obliviously from jet
lag under a distant nook of palms. Strolling on the beach, waiting
for an optimal photographic shot of the sunset, what to her wondering
eyes should appear but the likes of a desert sheik or prince astride
his camel. He beckoned. She went. Insisted she sit on the camel so he
could photograph her. Have a ride, no charge. She urged, come
back for my friend tomorrow.
Whenever I had time to
reach the beach, no camel in sight. No sign of the prince. Unseen
forces were obviously working against me. Fate did not kick in until
our last day.
Off we went that morning
to visit a rather un-promoted but splendid 1920s seaside villa of
classic minimalist design — “close to architectural perfection”
— a comment attributed to Frank Lloyd Wright. Absolutely; Dar
Sebastian is a gem, built by a wealthy Romanian who migrated to
Tunisia. He is credited with putting Hammamet on the map for the rich
and famous in the post-First World War period. Many European artistic
worthies visited Dar Sebastian such as Cocteau, Gide, Klee, Sitwell,
and so on. What jolly times the guests must have had in the
Roman-inspired communal bath! One also boggles at the juxtaposition
of Rommel, having commandeered the villa for his Tunisian campaign
headquarters, and Churchill (later, obviously) spending time here to
write his memoirs.
From the height of the
villa overlooking the sea, our plan was to walk back along the beach
to our hotel for lunch. Said plan fell short in finding actual access
to the beach because the villa and gardens are securely fenced. Some
walking time in the town outskirts was involved and some discussion
of whether a coffee in yet another sidewalk café full of vaguely
disapproving men would reduce our creeping hunger pangs. However, a
passing man on a bicycle genially led us to the public access path.
More discussion dillying over appropriate baksheesh for his
assistance and who had the appropriate coins. But finally, there was
the beach and the distant prospect of our hotel. Somewhat more
distant than we expected.
Then like a genie out of a
bottle, a camel and his handler popped up before us on the shoreline.
As I was about to embrace this opportunity, travel buddy said No,
Wait! She spotted another.
Her very prince leading his recommended camel. She and he ~ Felipe ~ fell into
excited dialogue like old friends (90% incomprehensible on both
sides). Travel bud herself had had enough of camels, rejecting the first offer. Among the three of us and one camel, we negotiated a fair
price for “voilà hotel ... oui ... montez ... d’accord ... .”
My first camel ride on a
beach was just as perfect as I could wish — bare feet, a quietly
lapping sea, and the wonderful air in that part of the world giving a
clearer, cleaner hue to all around me. To my immense satisfaction, it
took a long time to reach our hotel front. The downside was travel
buddy staggering along the entire way through the sand. That’s a kind of brand loyalty. And
friendship. Her camera always ready, I treasure her photos.
© 2015
Brenda Dougall Merriman
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