Bartering is our national sport.
The words of our Tunisian tour guide Sami rang in my ears as I clutched the camel-shaped ceramic jug, already trussed up in bubble wrap and a carrier bag before I’d even had a chance to suggest a price.
I’d just made my first mistake: muttering ‘oh that’s fun’ at the novelty item while I browsed the shelves of brightly patterned tagine dishes.
It’s the kind of offhand comment which would barely raise an eyebrow in most charity shops in the UK.
But here in the medina – old town – of Tunis, it worked like a magic spell, summoning several workers out of thin air who shoved the camel into a basket and ushered me towards the till.
Seventy euros, one told me, as he keyed the price into the card reader.
Attempting to put Sami’s advice into practice, I offered half. But I was no match for them, as I begrudgingly accepted €50.
It was far too much for a slightly chipped and dusty ceramic camel, I told myself, but can you put a price on an anecdote?
As I reinspected my prize, what I saw on the base made me realise my second mistake: a sticker that read (you guessed it) €50.
It was one of several colourful anecdotes I managed to pick up from my day in the North African country, as part of an Adriatic and Mediterranean cruise on board Fred. Olsen’s ship Bolette.
Before she docked in the nearby port of La Goulette, one of our fellow cruisers had described North Africa as an ‘assault on the senses’ – and I could not have put it better.
In just over an hour in the labyrinthine medina, I saw a rug maker knotting vibrant threads of yarn onto her loom with mountains of rugs piled around her; I smelt smoky tobacco from men chatting passionately to each other in doorways (‘smile and show us you’re healthy’ one even joked as we passed).
Behind one sunny yellow door, studded with patterns unique to the family living there, I smelt perfumes of mint, vanilla and jasmine – and even a bootleg Chanel no 5 - as the shopkeepers tried to sell us their wares.
‘This one is called Night of Carthage’, Sami tells us as he points to an ornate glass decanter.
‘Make sure you only use one drop each and not four, otherwise you will have twins,” he joked.
It’s a place where – modern knock-offs notwithstanding – time seems to stand still.
You could imagine the same tall tales being told by merchants centuries ago in nearby Carthage, founded by the Phoenician queen Dido in 814BC.
As we paid a visit to the Roman Baths of Antoninus – now located in a wealthy suburb and next to the presidential palace – history is quite literally wherever you step; locals are digging up ancient villas in their back gardens.
The biggest of its kind outside of Rome, a reconstructed 15m-tall column is all that remains to indicate the height of the baths.
But the cavernous basements remain, littered with chunks of Egyptian granite and marble inscriptions, showing where slaves would have heated and cooled the water for the spa rooms of various temperatures above.
And the Romans certainly picked a good spot for a swimming pool, which would have had panoramic views over the Mediterranean.
Back on board the Bolette, Sami the camel (as he was Christened) and I would be continuing to trace the footsteps – or in this case, oarstrokes – of Tunisia’s history by heading north to Murcia and the Spanish naval hub of Cartagena.
As the name would suggest, the city was founded by a Carthaginian: the general Hasdrubal in 228BC, to be precise.
But his foothold to conquer Spain was soon lost to the Romans, who built a 6,000-seater amphitheatre that is now one of the city’s top attractions.
One reason this area was so prized by both empires was for its proximity to the Sierra Minera, a mountain range mined extensively for silver and lead.
That industry was not revived again until centuries later, when the advent of the Industrial Revolution attracted folks from closer to home in Andalusia, looking to make their fortune.
And like the Romans, who brought their amphitheatre, the Andalusians also brought their own culture: flamenco and horses.
A short coach ride from the city centre is the Maipe ranch, which rears and sells the prized breed in 55 countries around the world.
Watching the mares and their fillies and colts canter around their enclosure, I was struck by the diversity of colours, from blue eyes and cream coats to dark brown and dapple grey – the most prized, our tour guide says as she tells us about the fashion of stallions keeping their long manes and their mares getting a buzz cut.
Renowned for their athleticism and elegance, they are a popular breed for dressage; and this was put to the test when one of the grey-dappled stallions and his rider Juan-Carlos was joined by local flamenco dance teacher Luciana to show off their synergy.
Stamping hooves and feet, swishing tails and twirling shawls, only the slice of potato omelette and glass of red wine we had to accompany the show could make the moment feel more quintessentially Spanish.
But like a typical Brit, by the time I was back in my suite on board the Bolette, I was hankering for a cuppa – and who was staring me in the face next to the kettle but the camel who’d made that charming dent in my bank balance.
If the chipped-off ear and gormless face wasn’t enough, it turned out pouring the boiling water out of his mouth made him look like he was projectile vomiting.
With my tea ready, as I watched the sun sink into the waves from my balcony, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Turns out you really can’t put a price on an unforgettable experience.
I stayed in the Balcony Suite on board the Bolette for the 20-night ‘Exploring the Colourful Adriatic’ cruise, which departed from and arrived in Liverpool and also included stops in Gibraltar, Sicily, Croatia, Montenegro and Portugal. For more information about Fred. Olsen’s upcoming cruises, visit their website.
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