Americans discover Tunisia

I haven’t posted for a while, and there are lots of things I’ve been wanting to write about.  First up, Tunisia:

I just got back from a vacation in Tunisia, a trip I took with two other Americans and one Spaniard.  It was amazing and beautiful and the people were exceedingly kind and friendly, but the most important thing I want to talk about is the strange sensation of being American in a type of country (read: Muslim) and a part of the world to which many Americans don’t dare to trek, especially not for leisure.  In some cases, it is with good reason; I don’t see myself booking a vacation to Iraq any time soon.  Likewise, as since returning from our trip we’ve decided that we would like to explore more of North Africa and have therefore been doing a bit of research, if a trustworthy guide (like Rick Steves or Lonely Planet) warns that a place is very dangerous, in general or for tourists or for Americans specifically, I will likely imagine the worst and refrain from going there.

 

And in any foreign country, particularly when you’re from a nation that doesn’t have the best reputation in the world, you’ll do well to stay alert.  Obviously I didn’t walk around waving an American flag or boasting about my nationality, and had I, at any time, picked up any sort of anti-American sentiment, I would have kept my mouth shut and gone into my well-practiced I’m-from-Canada mode.

That said, it was with a mixture of sadness, surprise, and intrigue that I discovered that Americans don’t really go to places like Tunisia.  And we were met with surprise, interest, and at times genuine disbelief when we told Tunisians where we were from.  

The funniest encounters were those where people literally did not believe us.  One hotel worker approached us at the pool and wanted to guess where were were from.  He started naming off European counties.  We kept shaking our heads and finally, realizing he wasn’t going to guess correctly any time soon, revealed the answer.  He laughed, said something along the lines of “good one” and kept guessing.  We kept saying we were serious, and it took him some convincing.  Then he told us that last year they “had one American.  He was from Jamaica.”

Toward the end of our stay, another hotel employee approached us with a camera and asked if we were from England.  We said, “No, the United States.”  He said, “The United States of what?”  We explained and then he laughed and shook his head in a way that usually translates to You can’t fool me! and said, “No, haha, we don’t have any Americans here.”  He then proceeded to ask us if we knew of Bob Marley and what “no woman, no cry” meant, and then left without using the camera he’d brought with him.  (Did he change his mind when he found out our groundbreaking piece of information?)

Still others we met, when we said “the United States”, had no idea what we were talking about until we said, “Um…  America?”  I found this particularly funny because the television channels, like those of many European countries that have a command of the English language, not only used subtitles on English-language television programs and movies rather than dubbing, but featured programming that seemed predominantly American.  This might have been inflated since we were in a hotel, but the locals are clearly exposed to many things American, if sometimes it’s difficult not to.  And they do not appear to hate us, as is affirmed when I see a expert on Islam or the Middle East or North Africa go on a news program (and contrary to what some media folk and politicians might have us believe).   So everyone take note.

I never imagined a country with such a reputation elsewhere for having great beaches, sights, culture, and resorts, would be so devoid of Americans.  But it occurred to me that I had never heard much about Tunisia.  Is it possible that most Americans have no idea that beautiful, visitable, safe places even exist in that part of the world?

The most thought-provoking encounter was our very first one, when we had first arrived at the hotel.  The woman at reception asked if we were from England, and when we shook our heads and told her where we were from, her eyes grew wide with surprise and she said, “Really?  We don’t usually get Americans here.  Why is that?”  And what could we have told her?  We said something about being so far away, but by thinking for two seconds you could easily dismiss that answer.  Americans go to Spain and Italy and Greece and Indonesia and Australia and China and lots of places way farther than Tunisia, so distance is not the issue.  We didn’t feel it would be appropriate to tell her that much of our media portray the entire Muslim world as being anti-America, and generally imply that going to a Muslim country, at least in North Africa or in the Middle East, would be certain danger, harassment, trauma, death, etc.  (I’m reminded of Louis C.K.’s thoughts on people being afraid of Harlem.)  

I don’t have any poignant conclusions.  Mainly, while I’m not an expert in Islam or North Africa or anything similar, I want to remind other Americans that not everyone in the Muslim world hates us, indeed most don’t.  There are people out there who hate us in lots of places, some of whom wish us death and destruction.  But the way some media and politicos attribute an entire section of the world and/or an entire religion to one malevolent wish for our nation is misinformed at best, deceitful at worst.  Many of the views we get from our media are skewed, and it would be beneficial to look elsewhere for reports on Muslim countries, Islam, North Africa, the Middle East, and occurrence of anti-American sentiment.  

Also, I highly recommend going to Tunisia for your next vacation.