{"id":8326,"date":"2013-02-11T16:45:42","date_gmt":"2013-02-11T16:45:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ourtour.co.uk\/home\/?p=8326"},"modified":"2018-12-18T14:30:02","modified_gmt":"2018-12-18T14:30:02","slug":"a-morocco-flash-back-in-houmt-souk-jerba","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ourtour.co.uk\/home\/a-morocco-flash-back-in-houmt-souk-jerba\/","title":{"rendered":"A Morocco Flash-Back in Houmt Souk, Jerba"},"content":{"rendered":"

Dave the motorhome made it all the way to the north end of the Isle of Jerba today, before being sprung back as though attached to a giant rubber band into our chilled-to-the-max, \u20ac8-a-night, just-us-here spot at Centre des Stages et Vacances, Aghir (N33.75751 E11.01483).<\/p>\n

The Isle of Jerba is 25km by 22km, and incredibly has a decent amount of empty dual carriageway, so it’s easy to nip about the place. Only if you do come here and drive, look out for the inverse speed bumps. Instead of Tunisia’s usual demon\u00a0camouflaged\u00a0hillocks waiting to one-inch-punch your vehicle into one of the tiny oil-spewing rooms which makes for a garage, they’re unfilled service trenches cut across the road. We spotted all but\u00a0one\u00a0of them, which thankfully was relatively shallow and Dave’s suspension and cupboard contents have\u00a0survived\u00a0intact.<\/p>\n

According to the guru who wrote the Rough Guide, Jerba is “not an island of towns and villages, but of individual homes – the only apparent villages are the two Jewish ‘ghettoes’ and the island’s capital, Houmt Souk”. It goes on to say how the place has been the scene of revolts, Christian-Muslim battles and European versus Islamic pirate tussles for a thousand years. The houses and mosques are, it tell us, all more closely resemble fortresses than homes and places of worship.<\/p>\n

Hmmm. My powers of observation being pretty limited, it’s a good job the Rough Guide man spilled all this knowledge on me. We pootled off this morning, driving an hour or so slowly across the island to the capital, necks straining about to spot all these tiny castles. They must be there, maybe Dave was too fast, or maybe we were just gawping too much at the array of shining white hotels, greenish grass golf courses, folks riding about on quad bikes and people trotting about on gleaming horses. Jerba’s the kind of place which was clearly once an out-on-a-limb small holding agricultural kind of place, then someone built an airport, think the Algarve in Africa. It’s not unpleasant, just feels oddly out-of-place. Even the tourist office in Houmt Souk was open, the first we’ve seen in the inside of in weeks, the others appear abandoned in the face of national and international politics driving us punters elsewhere.<\/p>\n

\"Like<\/a>

Like a city gaining vibrancy with the addition of a university, building an international airport brings in cash, lots of cash.<\/p><\/div>\n

\"Us<\/a>

Us Westerners love our fixed prices (probably as we’ve no idea what most stuff is worth to us). The Prix Fixe sign shines out above all the out of town shops here.<\/p><\/div>\n

Monday’s souk day in Houmt Souk, and the Rough Guide tells us there is also a ‘Libyan Market’. Although these days it’s pretty much a Tunisian Market, the weird cross-border stuff no longer makes it up here for some reason. We pulled into town to find the usual…<\/p>\n

\"Souk<\/a>

Chaos! But right of way is determined by weight of vehicle around here, so we don’t get held up for long.<\/p><\/div>\n

Finding a patch of dusty land, no ‘guardian’ appears, a sign Jerba’s some way to go in terms of punter-milking-maturity compared with Morocco. Jumping out with Charlie in tow, we walked back into the town, our eyes drawn to every western white face bobbing along around us. Ju searched out the tourist info office, which reminded me of those ‘welcome meetings’ you get on package holidays. 10% information, 90% flogging tours. She made it out in once piece, even managing to deflect the attempt to flog us a map of the town. The lass inside was very helpful though, friendly, no pressure and, wait for it, spoke English. She advised we could free camp on the beaches north of town, no problem.<\/p>\n

And with that, off we trotted, into a tiny version of\u00a0Marrakesh. Uncovered market, covered market, fish market, cafes, resturants and jewellery\u00a0shops. Cutting to the chase, I lost count of the number of folks trying to get us into their shop, the technique:<\/p>\n