‘Early Morning Run in… Djerba’

Sunday 15-Mar 2020. I wake to the not unexpected news Tunisia is closing its borders and all airports, apart from Tunis. I have a flight off this island at 09:00 to Tunis. From there to Casablanca.

Time for us to hit the beach. A quick run. 

Plenty for us all to think about as we limber up. Remember you’re all here with me. This adventure is likely our last gig for a while as the world is quickly battening down.

Have I timed this right? Worst-case scenario stuck in Djerba, and this view - or, tomorrow in ‘they’re playing our Tunis’, or possibly marooned in Casablanca. Morocco might well be a decent option, maybe Marrakech.

06:10. I wave & acknowledge the beach security guards and jog into the rising sun. 

When your mind is racing with possibilities & outcomes, a quick 20 mins run is an excellent tonic. A sharp out and back this morning. Grab coffee and eggs, and we’re good to head to the airport?

My mind wanders back to Sierra Leone when Ebola ravaged West Africa. Many of you contributed towards an appeal for food baskets to be delivered (photo above) to devastated villages. More than 11,000 people died across Sierra Leone, Liberia & Guinee through 2014 & 2015. When the initial fear passed the new norm quickly became the norm. Being initially stuck in Freetown for 4 months brings it all back this morning. (Smiling, I can remember not being able to hug my mother-in-law on my return from Ebolastan, every cloud...).

My heart’s not wholly in this run. Let’s pick up the pace...

Air Tunisia Express, seat 2B on this small prop job. Oh oh, 2A speaks to me (didn’t see that coming), a fellow Brit. I put Lee Child down right in the middle of a major fight scene... (damn).

“I’m stuck,” says the fellow, “all flights cancelled.”

I reply. “We’re all probably in the same boat.”

He’s on a roll. “I don’t know what to do. My wife rang the Embassy yesterday and again today. Yesterday they were friendly, today they were so rude, said there was nothing they could do.”

He’s building up a head of steam. “I’m on my own with no help. Our government is useless. They told my Tracey I was in a country that hadn’t yet closed its borders.”

“Yep, we’re all in the same boat.”

He goes on. “I’m going to try through Turkey, perhaps the Middle East.”

Turns out he’s a fellow of principle. “I won't travel through Dubai or the Emirates, I can’t abide or respect their regimes.”

“Well, good luck, whatever happens.” (I want to ask if he knows the difference between Dubai & Abu Dhabi. Easy, they don’t like the Flintstones in Dubai but in Abu Dhabi do.).

Picking up my book. “Where are you from?” “Basingstoke,” he replies. (Knew it. A definite Code Red, if I ever met one). Right, who was Reacher bashing up...

Tunis - arrived no problem.

Boarding Air Croc for the Casablanca leg. I must ring Rick’s when I arrive at Casa, a table for one.

Morocco is closing its borders. I wonder about border checks, about the possibility of isolation or quarantine.

Border - through no problem.

My regular hotel on the corniche in Anfa is deserted. I have a table confirmed with Rick’s. Dinner, exquisite wine and maybe a spin or two of the roulette wheel upstairs. My lucky number, 22. Then I know everything will work out well.

Mohammed drops me at Rick’s Cafe and wants to wait the 2.5 hours to take me back to Anfa. “Sure, Mohammed.”

Turns out he’ll only have to wait 2.5 mins. There are 3 policemen outside. “C’est ferme, Monsieur.”

“Pas possible, je telephone 2 heures avant, j’ai une reservation.”

“C’est ferme, Monsieur. Tout est ferme a partir de 18:30, 16-Mar sur ordre du ministre. Bon nuit, Monsieur.”

Merde. This is now getting serious. Rick’s shut. 15-Mar has been a long day. Hit the bar back at the hotel and work some options. Cold beer. Things are moving so quickly now; Mark, you've 2 hours to turn this around. Or, it's the Morgan Freeman voice. "He did not turn it around that day..."

16-Mar. I check out telling them I might be back, and we might need to discuss long term rates. I meet my driver, Jalal. Nice car and worth my 137 Euros. He’s driving me to Marrakech, over 200 km to the south. I’ve found an Air Chance (Air France) flight tomorrow to Paris. Back-up plan, back to Casa for an Air Croc (Royal Air Maroc) to Gatwick in a few days. Air Croc should wear stripy jumpers & masks for the price of a single ticket. 

 

Marrakech. Radisson Blu, empty. Everyone must stay in their rooms and make no use of public areas. Food and drinks, including breakfast, must be ordered via phone & room service. What do you do at a time like this...

That’s right, a comfort meal of spagbol and a minibar party.

17-Mar. Check out. I’m told the hotel is closing tomorrow. Taxi. Marrakech Airport is packed with European tourists, French mostly. Long queues. Most of these folk are going nowhere. The Gov’t here has allowed a 3-day grace period for repatriation flights. That’s flights which arrive empty and leave full. There are 2 days left for this airlift. Come on Air Chance, don’t let me down. Success, boarding card in hand.

Paris. A hearty round of applause from the passengers. I can get a flight to Newcastle tomorrow afternoon. I find a hotel on Hotels.com. A Novotel 7 km from CDG. Paris is in full lockdown already. The hotel is surprised to see me, I’m one of only 3 guests. The receptionist, a huge fellow who looks like he gargles shingle in the morning, tells me he can see I’ve booked breakfast. Then says the restaurant is closed and there’s no brekkie, oh, and the gym is closed. This giant is a real Charlie Chuckles. Also, the hotel is closing tomorrow and being handed over to the police. At that point, my phone buzzes, Hotels.com asking me to rate the check-in experience. I ask Charlie what should I say, he shrugs and says in perfect English. “How about… original.”  

Charlie has pointed me in the direction of a Carrefour, he says I need a permit. But, to take this letter from the hotel if I'm stopped. The supermarket closes at 21:00. I walk a mile. Damn, Carrefour has closed. 2 women and a jolly elderly man with a beret (honest) are sat on a bench smoking with a bulging shopping trolley.

I go over, and we chat, I tell them about N. Africa, and they tell me about life in Paris in lockdown. They also tell me the supermarket closed an hour early tonight. I said I had hoped to buy some food somewhere. They said everything was closed. I started walking my mile back to Monsieur Chuckles. Now, any story needs heart…

One of the ladies came running after me with a bag of buns and a bottle of beer. I looked at the 6 iced buns and wondered if the beer was cold. Of course, I said I was OK and not hungry (I was) and thanked her for her kindness. We laughed, I felt touched and reflected on how good most people are.

Back to the hotel, the police were already unloading panel vans full of gear. An early night… why didn’t I take the buns…

I place one of my boots in the room safe and lay on my bed, thinking about the past couple of days and what lies ahead. Goodnight…