We went on a coach trip in Tunisia – we went on two, in fact.
We thought we were going to go nuts hanging about the hotel full of fat British half-naked people, so we went on two coach trips, to see more of the country and shit.
We saw troglodyte type houses carved into mountains, waterfalls, ruins, rugs, camels, roman amphitheatres, and places where Star Wars was filmed.
The tour guide pointed all these things out to us.
The tour guide, in fact, pointed out everything.
“The large area of sand to your right is called the Sahara Desert”
“There is an old building on your left. It is not important”
“On your right, there was the hotel where George Lucas stayed. It has been knocked down”
What he seemed most pleased with, though, were the things I was least sure should be pointed at;
“If you look out of the window to your left, you will see an old lady begging for money.
She is wearing the traditional dress of the region”
So, seated on the dusty ground, hands cupped in front of her, the woman was rewarded by half a coachload of fat Britons, pointing.
The best (?) occasion, was a long story, as we drove around a winding road overlooking a hilltop village;
“The village you can see….. Completely destroyed by rain in 1976… Villagers very poor….. unable to rebuild homes for their families, as you can see, they live under makeshift homes of cardboard, stones, and corrugated iron… many have never known a home, they build slowly, but are so poor they can barely afford to feed their families, let alone build.
We will stop here for five minutes, because it is a good place from which to take pictures of the ruined village.
You can also go to the toilet.”
In their mouths?
Had we not taken enough dignity from them?
Was this *really* the tourist attraction I’d signed up for?
And other such wooly liberal complaints.