I’m still ambivilent about Paris CDG airport: its sprawling greenhouse of a departure lounge and the weird reluctance to allow Ken Follett’s Pillars of the Earth to pass through security (“C’est pas organique! C’est un grand livre!”) render it an utter chore of a transfer.
Tunis, however, I like.
I like the honesty: steeled for a taxi haggle-fest, I was stumped by the driver’s insistence that only the meter would do.
I like the friendly ease with which the people thus far chatter sans innuendo, though with much merriment.
I love the architecture: even by night the facades of the high, white buildings evoke France meets Maghreb in the most beautiful manner.
I love the warm, if not humid, air seeping through the window.
And right now, I’m craving another deliciously sating orange juice.
Mmm. Pity about the early mornings, though…