Tunisia

Getting on the ferry proved to be a masterclass in guesswork and patience. In the UK, we follow very organised setups to make on/off a ferry take 20 to 30 mins tops. This is Italy, there are no signs to show you where to go, the queue is a bit haphazard and limited to 2 lines. Everyone mills around until a whistle is blown by someone in high viz, then it's a free for all to the U turn area, where the actual queue starts. Everyone is then sandwiched into an area with 7 lines. The spaces are just car width and bounded by metal posts. Passport control is stop / start to the booth, where a bored and grumpy police man awaits you parking, turning off your engine and walking forward to his booth. Once he stamps the booklet, you return to your vehicle and squeeze through an even narrower gap to get to the next queue point. After that, a mere 3 hours of sitting your vehicle, thrre sre no facilities at all, before it's finally onto the ship at 3am for the joy of a 12 hour overnight with no cabin as there were none left. 

The actual crossing was glass smooth, a 3/4 moon lit the sky and the patchy cloud, before sunrise showed more volcanic islands and lots of open sea.

Inside this floating metal box, humanity did what it does. Arab men hawked up globs of phlegm into the sink in the toilets, around missing the bowl of the toilet like little boys learning how to use a potty for the first time. Sleeping arrangements were the same as on Santander Ferries. Find a place, try to sleep. The organised folks brought various types of inflatable beds, blankets and pillows, the rest like me, just found a chair and tried to sleep. 

Around 9am, the multi lingual annoy announced the cafe was open. A scramble saw coffee and bottles of water exchange hands. Prayer mats appeared, people making devotions around others squabbling over minutiae.

My first view of Tunisia was as a hazy strip of coast along the horizon. The little island of Zembra slid past us as we crept ever closer to our destination. Both the sun's brightness and the temperature had increased and if it weren't for the cool sea breeze, it would be tee shirt time. 

The ferry slid slowly into Tunis bay, with the ruins of Carthage fort perched above new buildings on the north side of the large bay. Mountains lay to the south.

There is something both exciting and frightening about entering a new country. Especially by sea. On planes and wheeled transport, the transition is quick, you're on your way, you're there. By sea, you creep in, taking ages to get to the port, then there is loads of time waiting, processing etc. The entry is drawn out which increases both the excitement and the caution. Everyone makes mistakes during their first transition too. A missed office, a missed stamp, park in the wrong place etc. 

The ferry docked around 1pm ish, I finally cleared the various entry requirements just 5pm. Costing took up most of yesterday time, waiting and first emptying all the boxes of kit, then unbolting various parts of the Landy body to prove I didn't have drugs stored in it. I reckon my papers and the truck got checked about 20 times all in all. One poor family had their bonnet open and airbox undone. Still, not an expensive border. 103 euros for the return ferry, 80 B for the insurance for 15 days. That was it. 

Then it was off through Tunis to find a park up, which got moved to outside a police station an hour after parking. 

Hey ho, some jobs to do tomorrow, then head south to the Sahara.