This year, on the second of September, I joined my partner and her parents on their holiday to Tunisia. I’ll let you in on two of my favourite memories. One isn’t of the holiday itself, but actually from the journey in travelling there. I have a fond memory of the time spent during the delay of the flight that I often revisit with affection. It was no more than a few hours but those of you who have flown before will understand the pain and boredom of prolonged sitting on airport seats all too well.My partner and I wasted some time traversing the shops and it was in one of these shops that we’d both find ourselves buying a Barbie colouring book. To make it clear, we were recommended a more apparently suitable ’adult’ colouring book but choosing that over Barbie? Tasteless.
Sprawled out uncomfortably on the floor of Manchester Airport, we enthusiastically coloured in simple drawings of Barbie and her friend; though we pretended they were us as mermaids and fairies. Turns out the colouring book we had chosen had ’magic pens’ as my partner called them. If certain parts of the page were coloured in using these pens, there was an image revealed in the ink; hence the ’magic’. Perhaps it was the boredom and aching of our knees making it more exciting than it should be to anyone mature. With that in mind, I was particularly overjoyed by the reveal of a dolphin while scribbling in pink; truly a riveting experience.
My second favourite memory is where I was flattered into buying a faulty gold watch – a watch slightly too big for my wrist as well. After a slightly scary speedy drive to Monastir, a taxi service and tour guide in one, we were all led into an alley of shops by a very persistent but charming man. Upon entering, I was enraptured by this display of a beautiful gold watch. With all the decorum of a gentleman, he took it off the display and showed to me how it would look on my wrist – albeit a little too quickly and shiftily upon reflection. It may have been in the haze of the heat, but I decided it was perfect for me. I didn’t notice the watch hadn’t been ticking with each passing minute. Easily excusable mistake considering I’d been recovering from not only the heat but also an intense shower of affection from the salesman – kissing my hand and talking about how I was ‘the most beautiful girl in all of Tunisia’.
I do wonder now how many other beautiful women he’s promised that title too and flattered into a broken watch too. I spent a good portion of that holiday looking at my watch in the hope it would spring into action and tell me the time. The only thing it ever told me was that it was 3:54PM; unfortunately, a little unbelievable when it’s pitch-black outside. Regardless, it is absolutely the best holiday I have ever experienced. Immense credit is due and deserving to the beauty of Tunisia, but really, I think it was the company that made it so enjoyable.
Words and photograph by Chloe Whitehead