More hints from travel journals: Tunisia - 2000: I'm here in Tunis after an 8 hour ferry ride from Trapani. I spent the bulk of the trip chatting it up with two Norwegian girls... My hotel is just outside of the medina. It's sink is covered in crawling insects and filth and a florescent bulb buzzes above my head. The window looks out onto a black wall. If I weren't a little drunk, I'd be scared.... Though it's hot here, it seems like everyone is wearing a sweater... The mosaics are intricate and the hotel manager charming, but the room I'm staying in smells as if someone had died under the bed.... Now I'm at Hotel Algiers across from the train station. It's 5 Dinars a night and it's filthy, but I'm going stay... This morning I went for a walk and a man began to follow me. I was annoyed at first, unsure of what his motives were. We spoke in broken French. He asked me where I was going and I told him I was off to the medina. He insisted he be my guide for free, and though I wasn't interested in having a guide, I had no effective way of communicating with him, and so he became my undesirable sidekick. He showed me around the city, but because I was wary of this little man, I was unable to concentrate on what was going on around me. He could have taken me anywhere... Several times I told him that I would be fine on my own, that from there I would rather be alone. At one point out of frustration, I called him a stupid man, but he continued to follow me.... His name is Hassam. He is 24 years old and has immense sadness buried inside his face. He has asked to be my friend so one day he can come to the US. He promises that's all he wants, so I've given him a chance mainly because I'm tired of telling him to stop following me.... Just one week ago, his mother died and one day later his father killed himself. I didn't understand what he was saying when he told me this, and asked him to repeat himself three or four times. The forth time, he broke into tears. I felt awful for forcing him to repeat himself.... "Toilette! Toilette!" I exclaimed." I had to pee so bad and though it seemed all the cafe owners want me to come in for a meal, no one would let me use their fucking toilette... Hassam brought me to meet one of his friends who works at the "Coca Cola" cafe. I was the only woman in this cafe and all the older men glared at me like I was the town's biggest whore...I taught Hassam how to say "Coca Cola, the trash of America"... His friend made me a pot of the most delicious mint tea... I sense Hassam might be sick. He's rather thin and pale and coughs loads. I think he smokes too much.... I meandered inside a perfumery in the medina hoping to console my nose. Two siblings working there began to bombard me with questions. They asked where I was off to next. I shrugged and said "south"... I walked into the hotel and went upstairs to Hassam's room where him and his friends were playing cards. The hotel manager walked in and reprimanded the men for having me in their room. "This is a Muslim country. Women and men are not friends here."Hassam and his friends looked at me indifferently then continued to play their game. I left the room in a huff and packed my bags... Now I feel bad for disrespecting the Tunisian customs. I'm so naive! What was I thinking? The seemingly liberal women of Tunisia who have a choice whether or not to cover their hair are not as free as I had anticipated....