• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Ask any of my best friends what my strengths are and the two things they will never say is athletics and being a morning person. So naturally, when I heard we would be doing the extreme sport caving and waking up at 5 AM to do said sport, I knew my day was going to be about as difficult as it gets.

It’s also important to note that the metric system is deceiving when you only know the American way. A 30 meter cliff? No big deal, that doesn’t sound bad. But then I found out that means 100 feet in America…in other words, around a 10 story building…that I’d be climbing down…

I’ve never been super scared of heights, but I’ve also never done anything where I was high enough that I had to be afraid. After climbing up the hill to get to our crevice (one of the most tiring experiences ever), I decided my strategy was going to be to not look down until I was already on my way. But because Arthur had to go first to take pictures of the rest of us and Hana was afraid of heights so she wanted to get it out of the way, that meant I went last and waited about 2 hours in the burning sun with no idea of what was in store for me. Luckily, that meant I had been waiting for so long that any nerves were gone and my attention span of a 5 year old had taken over, so all that was left was impatience to go.

After climbing into the harness and getting all secured came the scariest part: flipping yourself around so you were hanging onto the cliff with nothing below your feet—not even rock—and then, here’s the kicker, letting go. Still, thanks to that long wait, I honestly didn’t even feel anxious or scared.

Once I let go, I got to sit back, relax, and be rappelled down a 100-foot mountain. So, a pretty normal day at work.

I honestly can’t describe to you the feeling of falling through the air with nothing below you, feeling the wind in your face, and looking up at nothing but sky. It was exhilarating.

When I got to the bottom, my first thought was “Can we do the 70 meter one now?”

My second thought was that it was a piece cake and that if that was the hard part, I’m totally fine! 

My instincts were not correct.

The real hard part of caving was using the natural exit to get out which meant literally crawling/climbing through rock piles in the dark. While a fear of heights may not be a problem for me, a fear of bugs definitely is, so the mixture of being 100 feet in the ground in a forestry area in the dark was not a good combination. And the fact that as soon as I landed, a spider the size of my mouth crawled over Wafa’s shoulder and onto the ground. Not a comforting image.

No part of the exiting process was easy—at some points, I was quite literally suspending myself over 50 foot drops with nothing but my arms. The potential of getting seriously hurt was consistently a possibility and, of course, I was at the head of the group, just after our caving guides. The amount of expletives that came out of my mouth was high, even for me. Taher, one of our guides, insisted I was a natural, however. 

I think I would describe how I was feeling not as scared but just nervous. I trusted myself enough not to fall and, not to brag, but I think I WAS a natural. 

Finally, to get out, we had to squeeze through an opening I swear looked impossible for any human to get through.  The whole experience was the most intense thing I’ve ever done in my life but I would 110% do it again. Look out California mountains, I’m coming for you next.

I travel because I become uncomfortable being too comfortable

Carew Papritz

You never realize the extent of American modesty until you walk into a Tunisian hammem. Anyone who knows me understands that modesty is not my strong suit, so it shouldn’t have been an issue, but in the States, you never walk in somewhere to find a group of women dressed only in their underwear being washed by other women who are similarly as undressed. Basically, take every idea you have about American spas and throw them all away. To be honest, it was less the extent of American modesty than it was the extent of American self-image issues. Luckily, I was with another American who was equally as uncomfortable, but we decided if we were going to do this, we were going to do it right.

Hammem starts off with a bucket and soap bath, and if the women working feel you aren’t clean enough, they have no problem tossing the water over your head.

Then, you head to a large stone centerpiece where every single fiber of dead skin is scrubbed off your body. I make it sound painful (and it was) but also rewarding to see how much dead skin one girl accumulates in 19 years. Arthur couldn’t stop touching his face afterwards because of how smooth it was after that much exfoliation.

After that comes a full body massage (where 0 boundaries are respected), but I did get every single vertebrate in my back cracked in the most satisfying way before being stretched in a position that can only be called the Hawaiian Pig. 

The whole experience was rejuvenating but I was constantly reminding myself to relax, to stop being uncomfortable, to remember that no one was judging me and I was fine. Whenever I was able to do that, I was extremely relaxed, but it took intense concentration.

Would I go again? Maybe not. But do I regret it? Absolutely not.

I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road / I’m gonna ride ‘til I can’t no more

Lil Nas X

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Let me preface this by saying I’ve ridden a horse exactly once in my life before now and I was maybe 14 at the time. Maybe the one I rode was a small horse, ‘cuz I swear, the horses I saw in Tunisia looked like they were on steroids; they were way bigger than should ever be humanly (horsely?) possible. Not to mention that one of our leaders, Wafa, decided to begin our conversation in the stable with: “You want to hear a story? A horse ate my friend’s lips once!” Not the most encouraging thing to hear before riding on a 10-foot horse (only a slight exaggeration).

The five of us (Hana, Wafa, Alaa, Arthur, and I) were invited by one of the kid’s families to their horse ranch to go for a ride. Of course, I was like, “If a 10 year old can do this, I must be able to!” And then I saw the giants and just about changed my mind—I was not about to be the next person with her lips bitten off by a horse.

So of course I was picked to get on the horse first.

I was strongly assured that Kamel never did anything and was the calmest horse. He did look a little more normal-sized than the others and he seemed to like me, so carpe diem I guess.

It was worth it. If you haven’t taken a horse ride up a mountain during the sunset in Tunisia, I highly recommend it. Very specific circumstances, I know, but I know a guy.

Of course, going up was the easy part. Coming down is another story. Kamel was my hero, though—while everyone else was slipping and sliding, he was as steady as ever. I had forgotten how fun it was to go horseback riding, to be so tall, to feel the breeze.

The night was made even better because the song Old Town Road has become an anthem of sorts for our group, our feel-good, sing-along song that all the kids always want to dance to. I will say, I hated the song before coming here, but now I know every word to the rap. What can ya do? That night, we definitely had the horses in the back.

If that wasn’t enough, the family got us all necklaces with our names in Arabic and a box of traditional Tunisian sweets. The people here are truly the best.

I’ve come here a thousand times and every time I see something new

A local showing us Sidi Bou Saïd

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

I wish I could bottle the sensation of standing on top of a Tunisian hill overlooking the Mediterranean Sea with the wind blowing perfectly in your face. It’s something you just have to experience yourself. The views, too. I’d show you pictures, but like a sunset, the pictures never do it justice.

When you hear someone mention the country Tunisia, your first thought is probably “Where is that?” or maybe even “What is that?” Then when you hear it’s a North African country, you picture the Africa and the Middle East you see on the news. Throw that image away entirely. Tunisia is a place like nowhere you’ve ever seen before, the unicorn of Africa: dazzling to behold, but never will a picture be representative of its beauty (or in a unicorn’s case, a picture at all). Tunis (the capital) is stylistically closer to Greece or Italy than the Middle East we are shown.

I’m only going to see Northern Tunisia, a relatively compact area, but it’s already awe-inspiring. I’m staying in a lovely area called Sidi Bou Saïd (as the graffiti you’ll see around town says, “Bisou à Sidi Bou Saïd”), a city constructed entirely with the colors blue and white. There’s literally a law that states houses can only use those two colors—and you thought the Home Owner’s Association could be strict. Of course, some people break the rules, but those occasional pops of yellow are just as striking. The one thing you need to know about Tunisia is their doors—one of the local guys who show us around told me “There are over 1,000 doors in Sidi Bou Saïd” to which I responded “And I’ll take a picture with every one.” …you think I’m joking? That’s why the door to Tunis is literally the doors. Every architectural feature here is stunning, however (I’m told that’s because the city has an amazing architecture school, but regardless). One kind lady let us into the garden foyer of her house that put Beverly Hills houses to shame—she also got bonus points because she had turtles roaming around AND they had eggs. Of course, she’s considered wealthy for Tunisia, but things are so cheap here that a middle class American could afford it—for real, a Chili’s meal here was only $7. Looking for exciting retirement plans? I’ve got you.

After Sidi Bou, we explored Carthage, the famous Roman ruins, and the Tunis Medina, a World Heritage site (the area we visited was a market similar to Venice’s—cramped, full of trinkets, and requiring your best bargaining skills). I also swam in the Mediterranean Sea for the first (and definitely not last) time—I’ve only seen water this blue in Switzerland.

I promise, we’re all definitely sleeping on Tunisia. It’s a place like no other.

I travel a lot; I hate having my life disrupted by routine. – Caskie Stinnett