It's 4am and I'm awakened by the airport staff. (Note to self: don't overnight at an airport without warm clothes and stay away from the noisy water fountain.) It's time to fly. My plane jerked in all directions just like Disneyland's Star Tours ride as it gradually made its turbulent landing into Carthage. As soon as I got out of the airport, "I felt like a cat with a long tail in a room full of rocking chairs." Apparently, no Arab had ever seen an Asian before. Forget about it not being polite to stare, these locals would go out of their way 5stop their car, bike over, stop talking and point, etc.) to get a good look at me either that or they're admiring my new haircut).
I also must be some sort of beggar magnet. Beggars would be sitting on the floor or in a back room, but when I approach, they pop up right in front of me with an outstretched hand. Sorry, all you're getting from me is a high five.
Carthage is the land mentioned in "The Aeneid" (okay, Cliff Notes). It was the land of Queen Dido. It was the place where Vandals knocked the heads off statues. It's the place where salt was thrown so that nothing would grow again. There's no guessing why they called the remains of Carthage ruins.
Southeast of Carthage is Djerba, Homer's land of the lotus-eaters. While I could not find the mythical Sirens from "The Odyssey," I did find the land swamped by French tourists, who use this little island as their "Hawaiian" resort. Like the other locals, they gave me a good stare. I didn't catch on to why they didn't understand me until I realized I was using my Spanish instead of French. (Oops, wrong country.)