167 - Jedi Living (Matmata, Tunisia)
“Who's the more foolish: the fool, or the fool who follows him?”
- Obi-Wan Kenobi
KSAR GHILANE WAS A HUGE DISAPPOINTMENT. No two ways about it. Rest assured, it needn’t be so, grasshopper. Rent a vehicle in Tunis, sleep closer to the dunes, check out the sunset/sunrise, and splurge on a two-hour horsey ride into the ocean of sand. Do this and you will smile. At the time, I had designs on Libya but doubtful I could gain entry. In that event, there was a high probability of return. Yes.
We left Ghilane early. Zou and the driver had important shit to do. Phil and I were a nuisance they could tolerate no longer. They dropped us in Matmata where the tourist hordes descend en masse to ogle the famous troglodyte homes and follow in the footsteps of the world's most famous Jedi.
The Berbers who settled this region took environmental adaptation to another level, constructing underground homes as an escape from the desert inferno. These dwellings resemble manicured bomb craters from above, and many are invisible from ground level until you’re right on them. Just outside Matmata, we stopped at one for tea and a look around. A certain “human zoo” atmosphere permeates the vibe, but it’s still worth a visit. Also, it provides a needed source of income for locals.
If a visit doesn’t suffice, you can stay at one of many hotels built on the same design. You'd be a complete asshole not to. We bid a not-so-fond farewell to our driver after finding Hotel Marhala, a cozy cave complex. In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, “There ain't no place like a hole in the ground.”
We let a gentleman peddling day trips to the surrounding area talk us into hiring a car and driver for an excursion to the village of Toujane, a model of traditional Berber architecture. I’m sure it’s lovely. I wouldn't know because I never went. The driver flaked on us. After lunch, a call was made, but our motivation had cratered by then. Between Ksar Ghilane and this continuing debacle, we were tuckered out. Our dejection led us to nap time. Phil was still recovering from a bout of food poisoning, and I hadn’t slept well the previous evening.
Nap time was a bust, interrupted by the din of giddy tourists exploring the hotel. I emerged from our cave to discover a father entering a room with a video camera to the delight of his teenage children, an image underscored by the conveyor belt of tourists pouring off the buses. Super. I had half a mind to walk around sans pants with my wedding tackle swinging in the breeze. Stick this in your photo album, bitches.
Resistance was futile, so I grabbed my pack and went for a stroll. I noticed a small hill nearby with a rocky plateau that appeared to provide a decent view of the area. My stroll morphed into a hike, a refreshing intervention that bolstered my foul mood.
After the hike, I had to visit an old “friend.” I'd grown up with Luke, but never had the honor of visiting his home. It was high time I rectified this. By Luke, I am of course referring to Luke Skywalker, and by home, I mean the Hotel Sidi Driss, where scenes from Star Wars: Episode IV and Star Wars: Episode II were filmed. This is where Luke dined with his aunt and uncle while discussing their new droids (R2-D2 and C-3PO) and his future. It’s also where young Anakin visited younger versions of Luke's relatives.
Yes, the dork factor is strong with this one, but I couldn’t contain my giddiness. I fucking love the original Star Wars Trilogy. Love it. As a kid, these films blew my socks off. I could shit myself just sifting through the nostalgia. George Lucas may be a consummate douche packer in real life, but he knew how to capture our imagination. To emphasize the surreal nature of my visit, I had a few beers from the hotel bar. Not so Jedi-like, but darn entertaining. Obi-Wan would be disappointed. I’ve read the bar scene from Episode IV was also shot here, but it was difficult to see how. The room is preposterously small. (If you ever want to hit the "Balls To The Wall" setting on the Dork-O-Meter, check out Wookieepedia. Go.)
We discussed renting a car to troll the region, but in the end, decided to move on to Djerba. I’m certain the region is worth exploring, but neither of us had the energy to negotiate transport hire. Our patience wore too thin to salvage. The force was most definitely not with us. Sorry, Obi-Wan.
