"I travel not tell you live. This is just a grain of sand of an adventure made up of billions of emotions, emotions that will hardly be able to broadcast in their entirety and beauty. Not paying attention to what I write, but listen to advice: take a moment, a moment, and share a moment, the world is an inexhaustible container of emotions, it's up to you to go and look ... "
I'm lost in Africa I have stuck carelessly in the worst deserts, and are no longer able to get out. He said someone from the desert does not return back and I never thought of the vast expanses of sand, the Chott, the canyon of the Ksar. This is why I brought the earplugs ... not to hear the siren call of the desert. And instead ...
On January 4, I was there, in Tunis, a short walk from the ferry convinced that I liberated from slavery in Africa, "The desert? A distant memory! "Taxi cars trucks gleaming windows, everything took me back to life as always:" I am saved, few steps and Africa will be a distant memory, one thing to tell your friends bragging that he eats riders tackled the dunes, or to have crossed the desert on foot and without water .... " Already a foretaste of the taste of hot pizza and a fresh tape served on the balcony with my friends over to photos of Tunisia, all filled with tales of epic motorcycle companies.
Yes, that day was peaceful, relaxed to the point that I've let go a visit sciopping "in the medina of Tunis. Damn! Drudge my friends who convinced me to go, and I stupid to let down their guard, the enemy is always there, ready to strike the fatal blow, and I was unarmed that day, damn. First
meters in the medina, a triumph of color, a paradise for my eyes never tire of nuances and vivid colors, riot of smells and fragrances, a brothel of merchants who are doing everything to get you into their shops (what a nuisance! ). Meeting the Bostro, cigarette in his mouth, sunglasses and guide in hand, meticulous and careful in the discovery of this tragic place. Two words, two crap as always, I speak seriously with him is very difficult despite being a person of great culture. I greet him hurriedly, the appointment the other is between five minutes and we are at the opposite side. Punctuality is not home by the parties of Ascoli, and so I have to wait ... "I was standing in the square from the main street of Tunis, it will never happen to me?". Marty goes and call home, I'll stay with Alberto, Alberto is a fair guy, unlike me does not talk much but is always ready to dispense pearls of wisdom (crap, ed:-P). Our expectation is served by many silences, and unable to move any muscle (oh, did I know that) I start to move their eyes. I observe people, their clothes, some jeans a bit 'tight curve that highlights some pretty good :-), strangely the eye begins to rise, there is something strange, usually I can not unrivet eyes with a beautiful ass ...
eyes, hell I had not noticed, these girls have beautiful eyes! As I note in passing then another for a few seconds more and I get lost: "No no Mané, what happens? You will want to miss mica here? Spring, leaves, close your eyes, think of the desert, on the fly, a beautiful woman's body but some come out of those eyes! "I try to take care of self belief. I can for a few seconds then let me be dazzled by a different look and I get lost again ... I'm there, standing like a soldier, with the people who pass me by, but the mind and eyes are elsewhere: they are a prisoner of eyes, dazzled by a flirtatious smile, caught the eyes of some African girls, the eyes, the most immense desert, a place of perdition for travelers anachronistic, the last refuge of romantic dreamers.
Blathers something to Albert, he tired of hearing my crap nods without giving me too much. I take my camera and try to take pictures in the hope that they can be of help to rescue workers to come to me to find, but I can not, the look of a woman is too deep to be photographed, too huge to be able to find the trace of I passed, too fascinating to be able to understand what is hidden there. Provo to seek the way out, I lose a thousand times but I still insist, after a while, 'I give up and a bit' like quicksand, slowly I let go of being imprisoned.
gaze of women, the largest and most fascinating of the desert!
Then, then she arrives, she did not look as deep as that of the Tunisian girls, but he can fill my life and made me feel a special person, she gives meaning to my wandering , you lose that when I come to me always know where to look, she has filled me with slaps every time I turned around to look at a girl (stronza!).
Facing such a trip with Marty was the challenge. I'm not talking about difficulty coping with some kind of path, if that's what you want to read the report changed, we are talking about emotions, dreams and fears, leave them to other epics. The challenge I said, we both have a strong character: on the one hand, this can help overcome the difficulties on the other hand this means that the conflicts are resolved in a furious quarrel often. The challenge to leave the daily routine and go to a faraway place where everything is amplified, where even a simple cold knocks ... you is not easy.
In the months before the trip some extensive tests had revealed some problems in the bones of Marty; hand, the physical therapist Forks, by friend, biker and last but not least, a doctor there advised against leaving Marty as the physical danger of not withstand the stresses of such a trip. The toula ondulée ... I've got no sleep at night thinking how he would react back to Marty.
Doubts, thoughts, fears, why should I be ashamed to admit it? Before leaving, all (more or less) if the form below. Let's face it, all (men and women) only have the performance anxiety that many do not recognize it. But my fear had hard time against the call of Africa, a fixed idea, a series of sensations that you enter in all fouling, contamination occurred can not live without! I had to go!
"Why, back in Africa? Not enough you break a blade, you want to break even each other? "
" Look not back down because I'm crazy, but because they are sick! "
" Ah yes, and that would hurt? "
" Mal of Africa, never heard of it? "
Dejected and resigned, Mr moralizing he was back with his tail between his legs in his office.
Oh yes, it's hard to understand to whom there has been what it feels like when you are there. All photos in the world, videos, reports are not sufficient to explain this internal state, because of what it is. The trip to Africa is a journey of the mind even before the body, so it is said that you will never go back ever. But what I smoke? I knew that I had to change drug dealer.
problems with Marty started even before you leave, or when we started to pack up: it was a last-ditch battle to convince her to give up other things to travel lighter, obviously a losing battle, though in the end I managed to convince her to leave home in the washing machine:-PPPP. I thought the Transalp to its more than 79000 km and a lot of laps up and down the ditches, I thought about how to alleviate the hardships of a journey not so relaxing ... It 's strange, the bond that is created with a half-km ... after all every time I look up, dented, damaged with paint and with the signs of a thousand battles, I repeat that it is still half but deep down I know that is not so, she is my Transalp . I am sorry to see her office, maybe Marty could be handy to have behind the washing machine to make a laundry between Chott and a track, but to me it seemed already too loaded with two soft side bags and a duffel bag behind. With the bike
office, dressed like the Michelin man, all dressed and accompanied by his friend Claudio (really everything) orange (he missed only the tattoo "KTM forever" on the heart then was perfect) we focus our blocks to the west. Go to 5 miles of my house and do not stop me strange, knowing that I'm expected to do so up to the 3000km desert upsets my stomach. It 's a difficult feeling to explain, I always imagined the desert as a place away from home and had nothing to do with the small town of Collefalciano, now that we live longer, it makes me realize that strange to go to the Sahara passes in them (I had known, I left when I was still 10 years).
The first cruise in the company of Marty runs happily in a cabin of 4 persons 5 persons and without aeration. A stench absurd soon takes possession of the cabin, while Eugene has the seventh symphony of snorers knobby.
Our first cruise continues the next day with a lively (zzzz) briefing by Claudio.
After a fleeting explanation of the path (memorized the day before to not look bad) it's time for the rules, let alone fundamental at every opportunity for a trip like this:
1) At night in Africa not traveling
2) Speak as little as possible
3) Do not watch the girls
Aspe, this is what I've heard, but I know that the first rule I have understood bad as what we did was the ' opposite. For rules 2 and 3 ... I tell you to do? The arrival in
Africa is unique, a mix of colors and smells beyond description. Odors, the first are those who breathe the exhaust of Tunis, but as you move away you start to feel the most intense and true African, those spices and grilled lamb. Colors, those grass that gradually gives way to brown to white desert sand and salt in El Faouar the Chott, the bright red of the sunsets. Start slowly to metabolize this mix, and slowly tip the bike in the south. Try to understand, but you can not, until the day before spoke of nostalgia for Africa now you're living, you feel that something was missing but do not know what. Those who knew the stories from Africa, from videos, from picture begins to understand that c'aveva not understand anything, that this place really is much better had they described how, as he says that Red Cloud, "an account is an account and tell her vissulle" The wind starts
a violent blow, as the sun peeks over the mountains. What a coincidence we arrive at the hotel at night, a quick shower and a meal of chorba, chicken and harissa at will! I missed!
Day in Tunisia, the desolation begins to lord it while my eyes are struggling not just to assimilate. First km of track: "How will the bike? And I? I can not fall in the sand? "I have asked for months now it's time to find out. The temptation to force the pace there, but I will not be fooled. Eugene falls in the wrong way, fortunately nothing serious, it starts. A house in nothing, a vast expanse in a beautiful valley, then a open dump: a shame that we are all involved. We arrive to a wadi, Claudio stops, Alberto Eugenio part follows the wheel, I disconnected the gas to the whole brain and do, result: 3 drops in less than a minute. RECORD!
The arrival of the next day fleo does not break the balance of the group, his experience is indeed a big help to address certain points, a bit 'Difficult. I feel envy to see him literally flying on the sand with his 690, while I sudo seventy shirts to prop up the camper transalp but without washing machine :-). After close contact with the sand the day before, there is the fear of falling, luckily the experience as well, and I is not hard on the bed of a river of phosphates, find out the most compact. Bella's throat and fun on the climbing, as well as beautiful are the fossils found there. But my personal battle with the sand is only the beginning, the track that is linked to the road Rommel lot with a knife between his teeth, no, with the handle between his teeth, but without making mistakes. Marty also not intimidated and satisfies the waste of motion without any major problems. Albert shows his great experience in driving a team expecting more in the features demanding attention to the points and more technical assistance will prove to be its key :-). In short, we begin the ascent on the trail of Rommel, a very charming street where the view extends for miles and miles until a Chott.
The atmosphere is strange, the impression is that it can appear at any moment to see the whole German army with huge values \u200b\u200bpanzer ...
Tunisia, a country of contrasts: After crossing the Magic Mountain, we are again in the middle of a open dump :-((((((((((( Anger, despair, despair, not enough to describe our state of mind in the face of such destruction. The worst thing is that we come from a country that "civilized" we should behave differently, in fact we act like them, except that we know what is pollution, what causes, and we give a fuck nicely by the consulates made to the collection (those few that do). Without words.
The deep brown of the track is broken by the intense green of the mountain oases. A trickle of water is thrown headlong into a winding gorge while a palm tree seems to stretch out on, incredulous that such a work of art is the work of a miserable trickle of water. We imitate the latter in turn by leaning rocks, and bewildered in the face of such great beauty, we can not help but take some instant in silence.
still wondering, we go back in time aboard the Oasis Chebika.
throngs of tourists, off-road, to invade the bus entrance. The air begins to fail, too many people, too much confusion, too many tourists, baaaasta! Give me back the silence of the desert! The oasis is worth a visit, the source, the pools and palm trees give some pretty good insight, though ... but for me it's always too much travel, that I have of you? We get to
Tozeur is almost dark. We are looking for a place to sleep but it's sold out. When all seems lost and we resign ourselves to the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving to sleep on the ground, the enterprising manager of the camp there is an accommodation to him "by chance": a beautiful house with all the comfort and luxury decorations in all rooms. We are already doing blood collection to pay for it, when the owner tells us the price: 20 dinars per person! Without words! I would not have a house rented so needless to € 100 per person.
Day Three: Nefta, visit one of the sites where they filmed the movie Star Wars. 20km of track and the first real contact with toula ondulée. I feel the bike that is disassembled piece piece, the screws that greet me one by one, the arms that are threatening an indefinite general strike, the mononeurone bobbing from side to side of my empty skull imploring God's mercy for all the sins committed and Marty are doing? LOL! Shit, I'm there, I implore each and every component not come off promising thread locker to massive doses of return, which I also sell his soul to the devil to get out of it intact, that I care about the physical condition of Marty and she is doing? Ride like a fool! But damn it! Nothing, back problems seem to fade away, or is simply crazy ... bho Valley ste understand women! A dune a few feet near the site, what better opportunity to play a little ' ... and to make the first figure of covering up shit miserably?
off again, Claudio Alberto fleo and walk a trail west of the Chott El Jerid and Marty, Eugene and I wisely walk the paved road that cuts it in two. Rule is that the Chott there you go with the bike, otherwise the risk of ending up like this ... but respect for the rules has never been my forte, so I decided to test the significance of the documents in person. The temptation to leave, to immerse yourself in this milky white crowd is so great, but I limit myself to only a few yards along.
A couple of pictures and we set off for El Faouar, where we will Fathia, the wife of Fleo. His smile is something indescribable, her face sweet and sincere with his way of doing kind and helpful makes me feel at home, is a blessing after the efforts of recent days. Time to settle into the house and we are ready for a costume hungry spa bath El Faouar: 60 ° c temperature! Manco Pina burned the blanket so much!
"But, who cares, Throw! No no no, feeerma, we're crazy? This really hot, but as a Throw, with that water from the parties we pela my pork, I do not want the same fate! You are crazy, but as a bathroom? "It 's a matter of pride (damn me) I infilarmici, even for a second. My body seems to melt, my skin takes the consistency of a jellyfish, my attributes ... oh well draw a veil merciless! Mazinger Eugenio plunges up to his neck for several seconds, until the heat shield nuclear atomic not crumble and he must give up: there's no way to swim. We go from the spa to drag the skin, not wisely but Marty was not even wet a finger and is out there pretty perky. Fleo not satisfied with having inflicted so much suffering:-P, decides to show us the source and slips into a runway with its multiple configuration fleo and Natural Gas in front of Marty, Eugene Albert, Claudia and I hung out at mo 'bag potato behind. I do not know if we the craziest of us who follow him or if he is mad which makes some tracks with the Multipla, no time to think that the car sands :-(((((. NOOOOOOOOOOOO !!!!!
Coming in Tunisia, I knew I had disinsabbiare motion to die of starvation in the desert, but a car like nooooo! Now, imagine the scene: four poor fellows, in costume, with flip-flops and a couple of towels in the middle of the desert try to push a Multiple !!!!!! What a horrible scene! A visit to the source of effort pays us, a tower of about ten meters gives us a stunning view over the desert and the sunset that you pour in the face :-) The evening runs happily with Claudio who refuses the advances of a sexy Tunisia, a delicious dinner, dancing, dancing, celebrating the marriage of the brother of Fathi. A unique, hard to tell and to describe an experience that leaves us breathless, even more than drinking grappa on top of the dune El Faouar hour before ... :-)
First day desert, the real one. Challenging first km of track, a number of mechanisms, automation, and ways to drive to stay on top of the typical motion of the sand, which are not easy to understand and implement. The first crash, a flight of two meters, the bike that hangs miserably on the soft sand, fatigue, sweating, anger, sand lightly and thin as flour that makes me 50 times more risk of falling: a tragedy! It 's hard, I thought to cope better but I'm troubled worse than a beginner. Fleo wrong road, two or three times, the track was removed from the sand, we stop. I go on ahead starting to draw trajectories on the dunes reminiscent of the surfers on the waves, I feel free, no longer the constraint of the track, I'll go where I want, via the tracks via any limit, only the dunes and you, my faithful transalp ready to give me the soul. The splashing fun at the highest levels, while the bike seems to smile excited to meet this new situation. With fleo we find ourselves near a small summit, while the track even the shadow. Slowly the others arrive, we share this blessed looking eastward track, but nothing, we go back.
bad, now that I was having fun ... I love to travel in anything, makes me feel free and gives me incredible strength, there you are, the bike and the desert: what to look better?
The second figure of the shit I do in the afternoon, when I go to get Marty to El Faouar: arrive at the village square and the way I did the day before, I follow the tracks of the car, go straight left, right, right " So the house is there ... maybe not right here ... I continue straight right and I find myself in the town square. Oppps, I know I've got that figured na bat try again: I want to lose El Faouar? So here, not here turn right, turn right and straight ... I'm finally back in the square! Oh porc ####! Then, the dune, I remember that well despite grappa, from there to find the safe house of Fathi, here I'm going north, no not here, then the ... "PHONE! E 'Marty "I love what the fuck are you doing? Three times I walk past? "" Fuck you say, but if you've seen? "" Wait for them to come and get you "Marty arrives accompanied by children with belly laughter in his hand ('Stardi!). THAT FIGURE OF SHIT!
The rest of the afternoon passed in a visit to the festival the Berbers and a quick survey to track Douz - Ksar Ghilane. The doubt on the feasibility of two is high, the first km do not seem evil, but they are 120km, in two and with a minimum of luggage ... not easy. In the evening we come to the rescue a group of friends from Genoa, in configuration rental car, you kindly offer to accompany them to Marty Ksar. A shot of her ass, as I will understand the following day!
We now do not mess around more, Douz - Ksar Ghilane, the desert stage par excellence. On this track a lot of legends are told: it is said that when the gas was Meoni always felt at all, it says that someone has done in an hour ... just words words, now is the moment of truth!. Five motion: a 690, a 950, a KLE, two transalp, two veterans of the desert, fleo and Claudio, a road that has already made, Albert, a terrain that is the third time we go, Eugene, one that does not give a shit of all ste menate just that part, I will. Two hummer we stripped, while a couple of Verona with two mono join our happy little train. The café "La Porte du Desert", a classic, an obligatory point of passage for me a lot of bullshit to the tourists enduro. Chatting with friends from Verona ... "ahhhh, you're the idiot who has wrecked his shoulder last year with Smontic? And did you return? Hi hi hi ... "never say who you really are in Tunisia, the risk of being recognized and taken for a ride so much.
We leave the park at a time, and then at the time of Ksar Ghilane. A puncture takes us an hour away, we try to recover the time lost, but we are short of energy wisely because we did not even make a sandwich, genes that :-). We had wanted to stop and listen to the sound of the wind, look stunned the magic of the desert, this vacuum is not empty, capture the magic of this place, savoring every moment, and instead we have to hurry and keep your eyes peeled on the road forever full of pitfalls. The infamous Biben, such as a waterfall Gauntlet of the film "The River Wild" we instil terror and fear are days that we hear about it, I can do in just hearing the name, "Diarrhea? No, I'm afraid of Biben! And then I've got more performance anxiety that I have to do? Here are all good, all bikes have tough, but I have half a blowjob ec'ho well transalp "Here is the
Biben, a series of dunes a bit 'bitches, but then not so difficult, would have made Smontic by CBR with one hand tied behind, eating a date, that we're on top of the dune! We, however, there infognamo several times as rookies ("they were a bit 'in trouble and the one with more than transalp tonight do not throw it in his bed ... "then tell those with 4x4 Marty). Eugene, brave and daring as few, even more than this stretch, fatigue is the law in the face, the repeat drinking and taking a pill Polase, but she will not listen (a little 'less of pride in my opinion would not failure). When the worst seems past I stupidly on a dune sands and cold sweat because the bike for a few minutes without signs of life from :-(((((((((((((((( series ever to seek strut to 2000km from home!
Ksar Ghilane Here, it is down to 3 km. A detour to the fort, with Claudio Alberto fleo and rising to the top without too much trouble, I ... I leave it half-E09 trotting clumsily but can the same to conquer!
Eugenio is cooked, ready to be served on a plate, I do not know what had prompted him not to give up in the last km, the most difficult in my opinion, but has resisted: to honor and respect this man who has never taken for won! I was helping him to disinsabbiare the bike when I reach one with a Tenerone yelling "JOE BAR!" "Who the fuck are you?" "Are walterino, remember me" "no, I'm 6 hours in the middle tribble the desert is a fortune if I remember how I call it. Anyway, call me Joe Bar to a fork where you are, but who? "" I Walterino of Terni, remember? We were together Purverera this year, in the woods of Meschia ... "" fuck, yeah, like I can not remember a buddy of battle? Yes, yes, I remember you and that bastard in the forest tract Meschia addressed together ... "A fraternal embrace, the seal of a friendship born in battle and discover thousands of miles away. It 'strange life, walk the same paths never meet, then 2000km from home in the desert to find old friends for adventure ... strange but beautiful!
The dip in the pool of Ksar Ghilane is the most relaxed can exist: the hardships, fears, tensions disappear in an instant of the crossing, while the warm water relaxes at 30 ° c each muscle.
December 30, three years I'm with Marty. Three years of discussions and arguments, but most of adventures and challenges, often fought and overcome together :-). The desert is the perfect place to spend this anniversary, the place to stop and think and think about the challenges of the future ... At about 6:30 we get up and insoles just go there to see the sunrise in the desert and make us one last relaxing bath: - ) fleo leaves us, even salute the warrior and Walterino sqwow, and catapult us into this new challenge: the run up to Chenini. Top with a few km of sand, dunes addressed in the first two (how exciting!), A large flat track that seems to take the ends of the earth.
asphalt again, "fiuuu, the worst is over", directly to the Ksar, a scenically stunning area, a sort of grand canyon in Tunisia and once again leaves us speechless.
The clutch cable changed before you leave begins to break in the afternoon while we get lost in the silence of abandoned old country but a unique beauty. I decide to change it once you get to the hotel and I recommend it with Claudius to avoid making tracks. Problems of communication, a wire that is not good contact, a smoke signal ... bho misinterpreted, you can find the explanation, the fact is that we are left to make a good (UHE, so to speak) runway at night with 30% of thread left clutch :-( cold sweat, fear not to see a few holes, falling, of being left without friction and unnecessary risk of hurting me, makes me a pass' hours of shit. I was scared! Surely that area at night must have been a spectacle, but in that particular situation I could not see anything that was not the track, too bad!
Diarrhea kills more victims, and this time touch me and Marty. We decide to postpone the departure of a few hours while our friends go away for tracks. It 's noon when we'll be anchors to Douz where we will spend the New Year. Matmata - Douz, about 200km: Want that there is a gas station road doing? NO, NOT THERE '! Or do you have enough petrol or those it touches you on the spot or abusive
... I leave with 120km already tracks, sure to find a distributor road doing. After 250km route the indicator starts to lick dangerously red. From that in a while 'there is a fork, I find gasoline for sure. No! Another long straight, I understand that they have committed a shit but now I can not go back and divide the gas. Cabbage cabbage cabbage, it did not take "courage Transalp not abandon me. I know, I ask you one more sacrifice, but please do not let me walk! "As I speak with my bike placed me behind a pick-up to take advantage of the trail. Douz -20km, the partial signal 297. "Come on, do not abandon me, you've done so already, make a last effort, I know you can do so at 80,000 I have never left!"
Douz, km 0 partial 317km! TRANSALP THANKS!
Again you have remedied the bullshit of your driver, thank you.
I see two well-known motorcycle parked outside a pizzeria in Douz, are those of Walterino and his friend. A pizza and a beer in my stomach end up in a few seconds, while discussing what to do: "The festival is over ... so what? What do we do? "-" What a question, you return to play in the sand, pointing you the way ... I :-)". In less than half an hour we are there, just meters from the runway Douz - Ksar Ghilane, play, like children, with the same enthusiasm and the same sweet face and carefree ... Enduro: Men Out, children in!
New Year in Douz, New Year surprises. We had to be in 7, we were 18! From north to south, from Codroipo (yes, there was also Bostro!) To Chieti, mezz'Italia represented at the table, old friends, comrades, a thousand adventures, simple travelers passed to them by accident. Synonymous with abandonment empty desert wasteland ... no, not here!
First year: the day of departure, you leave the desert to go up north. But when you're dealing with a certain mob, you do not know never going to end. ... And it is so that instead of pointing to the north we find Es Sabria to lift the sand, breaking into a sweat to get to the top of the highest dune to take a photo. Still we, the warriors of the forks flying, the most Hooch, the most rowdy, those who can not get enough. The first of the year on top of a dune, what better wish for 2010?
Note the GS speakers slightly covered with sand :-))))
With great sadness we greet our friends, we load the luggage and with a little 'resignation to head north , this time for real. It strange back on the bike loads of luggage, now Douz had become our second home, the desert garden where you can play with our friends, the harissa pasta dish daily. Long and straight, faced some pretty big bend at 100km / h, then a new track, the grooves that have become reality in a mountain pass
and a long straight up to Sfax immersed in a vast olive grove.
(strange encounters on the road to Sfax)
half muted waiting for the boats to the islands Kerkennah, but Tunisia is a land of meetings and those who find: the usual Walterino! Oram not stand it anymore:-PPPP I have it always around:-PPPPPPPP think that at the last minute decided to change the way to go to the islands, to have done so on purpose there was not even to die.
Kerkennah Islands, a small paradise, the icing on the cake of a well studied around: a quiet place where there are still people who go fishing with their boats to sail and where, here more than in the rest of Tunisia, time seems to stand still. Simple and welcoming, our hotel, a small fishing cottage tastefully decorated and simplicity, it makes you want to stay. After days of racing, km and km of slopes, wear a pair of jeans and slowly going to discover this little corner of paradise. Visit a Chott, a salt, and finally the fishing port.
we enjoy this place slowly, the frenzy of recent days is a distant memory. We get spoiled by the cuisine of a lady who gives us a (very abundant), spaghetti with seafood in the evening and invites us to eat freshly caught octopus, as he shows us proudly how to refuse?
will end, 7-3 for octopus in the sense that we can not finish in 7 3 octopus, with great satisfaction of the lady.
time back, but not before paying a visit to the amphitheater of El Jem and breathless at the beauty of the cemetery sea \u200b\u200bof \u200b\u200bMahdia. Claudio
you realize you have drilled in the middle of the meal. The fast it misses the mark for the third time, the pump is ko and we may remain on foot (and Sunday). Inside the restaurant, taking a race of solidarity: the restaurant calls all the mechanics to Sfax even invoking his grandfather extinct, a boy heard what was going on 3 leaves, I say three, girls pretty well (Chisti and crazy!) To help to solve the problem, is accompanied by another of those present at his workshop and repair rubber Claudio. Two dinars, on Sunday, in the middle of a room with three girls wanted to miss a tip!
people Meditate, meditate: who among us would have done?
Tunis, the westernmost of Tunisian cities. Tunis, a place where getting lost looking for the latest scents, the latest fragrance, the latest colors, sadly, before returning home.
Tunis, the holiday is over, soon the pain of Africa will again take possession of our minds, and already planning the next trip, drooling over maps, stories, photos. The ship slowly brings us back to our lives as usual, while we watch for the last stretches of African land:
"See you next year!" I say to a part of me that remained trapped there forever, between oasis and deserts!
the next Mané
