Restful Days in Djerba: Club Med Tunisia-Style

Djerba, March 2004

Dear Friends and Family:

It’s now almost ten days since I arrived at the Club Med in Djerba in Tunisia and I find myself wanting to stay longer. Days of little more than tennis and sun and eating and a lot of sleep have left me relaxed in a way that I haven’t felt in some years.

Some of my friends ask me why I choose to go to Club Med for solo vacations. It’s because such vacations are easy and provide virtually no reminders of the super-five star hotels that are my home while traveling on business. In Club Med, personal service is virtually non-existent. The towels are changed daily but the sheets are not. There is no welcoming fruit basket or bottle of wine. Indeed there is no fluffy white bathrobe or even a plastic shower cap in the bathroom or a notepad and pen by the telephone. But I like very much the simple low-maintenance architecture of Club Meds and the beauty of the beach and the gardens satisfies me. For me, it’s hard to beat a place that offers a cheap vacation of endless days, a quiet room, easy access to sports facilities and equipment, and no concerns about being harassed by men looking for women available for hire by the hour. Some places, such as this, I feel that I could have stayed a month.

I have the impression that many people come here time and again. Everyone I have met has visited Djerba at least three times in the past, and in one case, 25 times. For the most part, the guests are French couples in their 50s and 60s and 70s but some of the 30 somethings have brought their babies and toddlers. Many participate in the Club Med dances and games and routines. Most are friendly and courteous though critical of America and Americans.

I am reluctant to admit that I haven’t seen very much of Tunisia though, preferring late breakfasts over trips to neighboring cities. However one afternoon, I decided to adventure out. I rented a mountain bike and visited some of the coastal area of the island. I had done the same thing when I was last in Djerba, some eight years ago.

What I found was substantially more development, hotels and resorts specializing in the Senior Tour of German and sometimes French retirees than I had seen some years ago. However it’s not the same extensive development as is present around the Club Med in Agadir in Morocco. On the Tunisian coastal route, about half the cars seemed to be yellow taxis looking for customers. Not many private cars came by, and not one BMW or Audi or other expensive car. It is also not as conservative. In my afternoon on the Djerba roads, I saw not a single woman in a burqa. By contrast in Agadir in a similarly touristy area, at least one-third of the women was wearing one form or another of burqa.

Last evening was little different though. In the main restaurant was a large group of Tunisians, presumably new Tunisians of recently generated wealth. About 11:00 pm, as I was trying to write this note, I took a seat in the empty theater and soon found that a late night show had been planned. I stayed for the show but watched the Tunisians in their conservative dress that covers the neck and head and the arms to the wrists and the legs to the ankles. The show was clearly off-color and I understood very few of what were obviously very crude jokes. I turned to look at the reaction of a group of three Tunisian women in their fine silks. They had understood more than I. They looked displeased and I heard one say to the others in French that they should stay for one more skit and see if the quality improved. She smiled at me as she realized that I had overheard her comment. But the quality did not improve and they left a few minutes later. However the interesting part was that these modern Tunisian women would sit in a French-style café-theatre and watch the show. I didn’t see the same thing in Morocco.

As I was playing tennis this morning with one of the tennis pros, the village chief (chef de village) asked me if I didn’t want to stay. He said jokingly that he needed another tennis G.O. (as the staff are called). I have played so much tennis that I am referred to as “Champion” as often as I am called "Sue". It will be a tempting thought in May as I sit in my hotel room in Moldova, writing yet one more report for the home office.

Sue