Tabarka

Feb 22-23
We purchased our bus tickets to Tabarka in French without much problem. The man at the ticket booth said the bus will have “Tabarka” on the front. It did – just one problem: it was in Arabic. Not much of a setback – we just asked around. The little old man selling breadsticks was kind enough to confirm we the right bus and open the luggage bay doors for us. The 3.5 hour trip took us through some Swiss-looking mountainous territory. Until arrival, I thanked the driver, he kissed R. on the cheek and firmly shook my hand.

This is a small and pretty town on the coast near the border with Algeria. You can see a silly moment that occurred at dinner.

The waiter brought a plate of garnished raw fish to our table to show what was available. I asked if I could take a photo of him and the fish, intending to take before (raw) and after (cooked) pictures. But he had other plans; we were asked to pose and the camera was handed to another fellow who took that pic totally missing the fish and most of the people. (I blurred our faces.)