Prologue: A Journey to Tunisia
Simon Cuell stands, embracing Alejandra Gutierrez, in front of a gate in Tunisia. Passing Tourist. 2021.
The Lead Up:
Let’s just start this off with the acknowledgment that I decided, about 3 weeks prior to taking the plunge, that I wanted to quit my job. My girlfriend is in the midst of unlikely professional tennis glory, starting by taking on any and all comers at entry level ITF Tournaments in Tunisia, and I, after months of lockdown depression from living in a basement and working a thankless job in Insurance, decided I needed a change.
My girlfriend left for Tunisia on August 11th, the day after I decided that I would join her. I booked my ticket for three weeks or so later, leaving on the 3rd of September. I handed in my notice to work, and immediately started panicking about how badly this could all go. To give you some insight into my psyche, I am a small town Alberta kid who hasn’t seen much of the world, and for some reason I had decided to leave my stable job, and travel to North Africa to follow my girlfriend as she pursued her dream. To say I was nervous would be an understatement, but with nerves came a state of relief that I hadn’t anticipated but assured me that I was doing the right thing (probably).
The three weeks leading up to my journey were some of the most fun I can remember. This is probably because they actually were fun, and after almost 2 years in near seclusion I was starting to remember what being alive felt like. Friends travelled in for my birthday, we went out to bars (!!), and I took shrooms for the first time in years with Beckett and we had an amazing time being clowns. Although my body was still going to the office, my spirit was definitely lifted and I was looking forward to traveling with less trepidation that I had felt upon purchasing my ticket.
Day 0-3: Setting Off
Packed up as best as I could be, and without a place to stay in Vancouver, I decided to leave a night earlier (September 2) and stay overnight at the airport to wait for my morning flight. This involved me begging my sister's boyfriend for a 30 minute ride from our Victoria, BC home to the ferry service, followed by a 2 hours ferry and a 45 minute bus & train combo to get to the Vancouver International Airport. The first leg of the first leg of my journey had begun.
I had decided to take the 9pm Ferry from Victoria, which meant that I arrived at the Vancouver Airport at approximately Midnight. During the 8 hours between arrival and my flight I jockeyed for seat space with a large Arab family, getting into an argument with the patriarch and sharing an apple with the youngest son. I slept approximately 20 minutes all-in-all, and the thought that I may not survive the journey crept into my mind.
My next couple of flights went by quickly, taking me to Kelowna, and then to Calgary where I had drinks at an airport Chili’s and talked to the bartender about his former colleague who was fired the day prior for overserving customers. My spirits were shamefully leavened by the thought that someone else had likely had a worse night than myself. I bought a mickey of Johnny Walker Red Label for my flight to Paris from the Duty Free and prayed that I may catch an ounce of sleep.
After a sleepless 12 hours, a bottle of Red Label, and a full cup of coffee spilt on my jeans later, I arrived in Paris in a state of near delusion. The air as I stepped off the plane was hot and humid in a way that we did not get back home, and it only served to sap away most of what remained of my will to continue.
Because my flight to Tunisia involved a separate airline, I went through customs, waited an hour for my bags, and went in search of a place to take a rapid PCR test that would enable me to enter Tunisia. I did not need this test to enter France because I would not be staying there long term, and I elected to try to take the test there as the savings were over $200 even with the currency exchange. Thanks, Canada.
Two in-airport train rides, 45 minutes of jockeying in a line of panicked travelers, and $100 CAD later I got my PCR test done by a wonderful woman in a ghostbusters uniform. She did not speak a word of English, nor I French, but we laughed at each other's jokes and she pretended not to smell me. A helpful hint for English travelers to France, learn the phrase “Je suis fatigue,” and they will do almost anything to help you.
After my PCR test was completed, I needed to find my final gate. All signs pointed towards me needing to pass through doors that were blocked off by security. A long line of loud customers stood behind three security guards who seemed to be turning everyone away. Unable to speak the language, and too tired to fight, I hung back meekly wondering if all of this was for naught. After a few moments, one of the security guards beckoned to me. After a few unintelligible gestures between us, I was inexplicably let through the doors to a chorus of angry people behind me.
While the final part of my journey felt like an eternity for me, it passed without too much issue. After nearly 3 full days of travel, I had made it to Tunisia at 7pm where my girlfriend awaited me. When we got to the hotel 30 minutes later I passed out on my way onto the bed and slept for the next 19 hours.
Day 4: The Hangover (Sunday, September 5, 2021)
Waking up at around 2pm, the only thing I notice is that my ankles and feet are so swollen and painful that they are the only reason I have woken up at all. Ale (my girlfriend) gets me a bag of ice from the bar and I raise my legs to try to reduce the swelling.
The rest of the day is spent in bed catching up on Rick and Morty season 5 before eventually trying going back to bed around 10pm. Ale has her first match in the morning so I pretend to sleep while my jet lag keeps me up for most of the night. At least my swelling has reduced.
Day 5: Venturing for Breakfast (Monday, September 6, 2021)
My game of Golf Clash is interrupted by Ale’s alarm waking her up at 6:45. She has a practice hit for an hour during which time I sneak a nicotine mint to pick myself up, and begin planning how to be productive during this trip.
Ale returns to shower and get ready for her match. She had breakfast without me so I went down to see the food court for the first time. I realize for the first time that I am at what seems to be a Arab destination hotel as the food court is absolutely packed with families and extremely loud children. My immediate observation is that Arab people remind me a lot of Latin people, except that the adults always sound angry when they want to get someone's attention. My love for Arabian script is magnified as I wonder what it all means.
