sickness africa 
24/12/2009 55,901 km
Travel mode: ON
Time does not bode well so I cover in any way ready for a difficult trip to Viareggio, where he will spend Christmas with my parents. Control the load and I hope that I have not forgotten anything. Covered by several layers of technical and not technical (from the goretex pants of wool), I get in the saddle to Nero and do route northward along the SS1 Aurelia. The rain beats, first floor plan with a few drops alone, then more intensely and will end in a real storm in the last 10 km of travel. The new tires are struggling and losing grip slide back often, making me come cold sweat beneath the layers that separate me from the outside world. I'm the only bike on the road Aurelia on Christmas Eve in the pouring rain. In these cases are always uncertain about what people think about cars, as if I admire the adventurous rider who will stop at nothing, or think "Look at that fool ...." I make a brief stop at a motorway for a toast and a cup of tea and take in a conversation with a barman and then with his daughter, a young chick in a few years that will run more than one head. The Pornoromanticismo is still there! The last km before the destination are enduro special test, type of roads flooded ford a swollen river, hidden water holes, buckets and rain reduced visibility to zero. I urge the seventh sense, better known as "ass" and arriving at my parents' house like a chicken drenched in time for a hot shower and get ready for dinner on Christmas Eve. The trip to Genoa on Dec. 26 will take up where I embark to Tunisia.
26/12/2009 56,278 km
I wake up slowly and I have breakfast, after I dressed and decked out against the cold, I turn on the bike, I greet my parents and birth to Genoa. This time, fortunately, it does not rain but still cold. Genoa is just over 140 km and then I take it calmly. At some point, the GPS stops working as if not taking current: I found a way to fill the time waiting to embark. I follow the instructions of the port operators and I park next to the stern of the ferry "Splendid" pending the commencement of loading operations. In the meantime I know a Tunisian named Seif, the sword. He lives in Udine, seems like a good person, returns home because his wife is about to become dads. He tells me he was laid off for a bit 'and then it's over, too. Shortly after starting to get a lot of motion. Among these Jade and David. Jade also has a problem with the current GPS. By David discover that it is a fuse problem and solve quickly, with the opportunity to give a look to mine that turns out to be a simple contact oxidized because of the water taken from Rome to Viareggio. Saif lets me pack up and go to the grocery store. The meeting aboard the ship where chatting, I offer a few cigarettes and a beer taken from the supermarket. Too bad that boarding has also met with another Tunisian living in Milan, Hashish tried to sell me, then told me he was going to Tunisia just to go to hell, which are much cheaper than in Italy (10 all night, if you're interested). Greeting Saif and I go to have a chat with David and Jade: we talk about bikes, of course! Beautiful couple these two: two hearts and seven bike! I also know the silent Alexander, the designer pal David and Sergio. A voice from the speaker informs us that we must go to the police board for approval and also the customs authorities for the registration papers for the bikes. Needless to say, the line was very long to do. One of us is responsible for making the papers for all. In the meantime, meet Paul "Bi & Ti”, il concessionario KTM di Roma; tempo di un saluto e fugge in camera a dormire. Subito dopo sento Matteo Ginginacchi per telefono che mi manda il numero di cellulare di Bibo, il quale risponde dal bagno della nave dove sta producendo preziosi regali: tempismo perfetto! Bibo mi racconta che sta andando in Libia con un suo amico che farà da accompagnatore e mezzo di supporto al viaggio con un mezzo strano: un’ex piattaforma mobile lanciarazzi 6X6, residuato bellico NATO demilitarizzato ed adattato ai viaggi nel deserto. Li invece si farà il viaggio sulla sua KTM 690 modificata. Arriva l’ora di cena. In coda per il self-service conosco due motociclisti di Rovigo: Artemio, venditore e meccanico di moto da enduro e cross, ex pilota with physical limitations that forced him to leave the competition, and Adi, informants pharmaceutical Lebanese origin who lives in Italy for years, divorced with a daughter of 10 years. We have dinner together and invite me to join them to go home to the Douz Sahara Festival. They look nice, maybe join them. Meeting again Seif inviting me to do a barbecue at his house on the coast, in the village of Mahdia. Maybe on the way back to see him pass. I return to the chair where I left my bags and I hear a familiar accent: the dialect of Brescia low. "It Alura? Who ta fet that?". In a dance of guttural and nasal aspirates that have little to do with the current Italian, I know due imbianchini della bassa bresciana in moto ed un geometra in pensione che viaggia in camper con la moglie. Mi raggiunge Davide alle poltrone dicendo che l’operatore di polizia non mi ha rilasciato il visto perché vuole vedermi in faccia. Vado nella sala dove si fanno i documenti e, nel giro di un’ora e mezza, ne esco con tutti i documenti. In coda conosco una bella signora genovese. Peccato che ci fosse il marito…Stanco per la giornata intensa torno alla poltrona, mi sdraio di traverso occupando quattro posti a sedere, gonfio il cuscino da campeggio e mi abbandono alle braccia di Morfeo, cullato dalla danza del traghetto sulle onde.
27/12/2009 Km 56431
Dopo una notte passata a cercare di dormire in posizioni sempre nuove, decido di lasciare la sala delle poltrone per andare a fare colazione. Lunga fila per il caffé della mattina. Pare sia un’usanza comune a molte popolazioni: italiani, tunisini, tedeschi, francesi, cechi, etc. Incontro Bibo, lanciato in un’accesa discussione sulla praticità di un camion piuttosto che un altro sulla sabbia libica. Poi esco e trovo Paolo del concessionario KTM che prende il sole e facciamo due chiacchiere sul ponte superiore esterno di poppa della nave. Mi chiama un amico dalla Germania per gli auguri e poi incontro Giada, Davide, Sergio, Davide Fun e Alessandro e si fanno altre due chiacchiere. Seif, l’amico tunisino, mi lascia il suo numero di telefono e rinnova l’invito per la grigliata da lui a Madia, sul sea. The speaker of the vessel arrives notice vacate cabins and seats. We found everyone in the room of the cafeteria to play UNO waiting to disembark from the ship which has now entered the Gulf of Tunis. The long landing followed by exhausting dies for the documents that we submit to the police and customs: that sucks! Finally left the port, wrong way a few times and then go to the hotel I had reserved via Internet. A convoy of six motorcycle around the Tunisian capital. Taxi drivers block with my broken French to get information, since Tunis is not mapped on my GPS. After some 'speed to get to Hotel Saint Gorge, dove alloggeremo per la notte. La prima cosa che faccio è andare in bagno. Accanto alla tazza del water noto uno strano marchingegno: un tubo flessibile con un ugello e un rubinetto e non capisco a cosa serva. Una doccia rigenerante mi leva la stanchezza del viaggio, ma, nel momento di asciugarmi una spiacevole sorpresa: una sgommata di merda fa bella vista sull’asciugamano fresco di bucato! Orrore! Prendo il mio asciugamano, mi vesto e poi scendo al bar con Davide e Sergio per bere qualche birra. I tunisini non vendono alcol, ma lo devono volentieri nei locali riservati ai turisti. Siamo gli unici tre turisti in mezzo a cinquanta Tunisi, musulmani non praticanti. Arriva l’ora di cena e la guida Lonely Planet consiglia di andare nella Kasbah. Take a taxi and get the first catch. Instead of two and ten dinars of the race, giving you 21 dinars. What possino je ... With some doubt as to the occupation of the mother of a taxi driver, we advance in the Kasbah in Tunis through the Piazza of the Government. In the maze of alleys LP guide is inaccurate, so I ask a guy for directions, and this takes us directly between the lanes, suk deserted with all shops closed until he meets an unusual character: a guy with a wool tunic white, white beret, white socks, slippers, cream, a roll mat resting on his left shoulder and a lantern square as big as a motorcycle helmet with lighted candles inside. This soggettone us goes through the maze until a secret door of ancient cedar and knocks three times for flying, like a code. After a while appears a young man in pinstriped ingelatinato, with a horrible pink tie us into a room with a thousand and one nights. Inlaid ceilings, columns, arabesque, carpets, dinner tables, walls covered with colorful tiles and a traditional singer who is accompanied by a stringed instrument similar to a greek Bouzuki and sings songs that are the background to the evening. We eat fish with couscous and mint tea finish. The menus are read from the last page and local only serve water, soda, mint tea and non-alcoholic beer. Spectacular service, fabulous, fantastic ambience, everything for 33 dinars per person! About 16 € for the best restaurant in the Kasbah. At the end of dinner, the guy with the lantern taxi takes us back to the secret paths through the desert the market. We reach the hotel by taxi (this time we pay three dinars) and I decide to remove the DB Killer bike. Tomorrow will test the open drain through Tunisia hearing the true voice of the motor. It 'time to lie down in view of early rising tomorrow.
28/12/2009
56,451 km We woke up early in the morning, prepare your luggage and we are all in the breakfast room. We load the bikes, we go to the gas station (1.27 TD per lt.) And then looking for a bank to change the euro in dinars Tunisians. The bank employee speaks Italian and serve us from a colleague (very nice). The exchange rate is about € 0.53 for a TD. Without this, we salute you: they go to Gafsa, but I want to go around the mountain oasis that starts from Le Kef. Tunis reveals an exit because of traffic and road signs, but the exposure route and the GPS signal so I can navigate out of the city. I go in the direction of El Barth, and then Dougga El Kribi. The temperature drops, the percentage rises and a cold sun in the sky darts uncertain. The Tunisians drive like crazy, overtaking with reckless endangering and reckless maneuvers all. I stop to see the maps, put on heavy gloves and make a pisciatine on the roadside. Just before Le Kef meeting, standing at a bar, two German motorcyclists (tedeschissimi, I would say). They come from the area of \u200b\u200bthe oasis, and they say, is full of mud and a bit 'of snow inadvisable to venture out alone. I look at the bikes, muddy, plugs, ready enduro heavy, then I look at them, all harnessed with experienced enduro boots and clothing ... if they were jocks with two road wheels and complete smile and I'd probably bmw continued. Greetings Otto and Fritz, set the GPS to the city of Sbeitla, to avoid making the state, and birth at sea, not caring of the roads and signage, cutting wet meadows and riding trails: must have rained the night before. Step near Dahmani, El Ksour, Rouhi. Poverty and neglect are in sharp contrast with the capital. It's like being in Italy in early 900. I am almost certain that the majority of children do not go to school and that their parents are illiterate. They greet me when I shouted phrases in Arabic to me incomprehensible. I stop to ask about a guy to find myself surrounded by a lot of kids excited because of the bike. I moved away to play with the bike and I run after them: that cute! I greet all allotment. The road to Sbeitla is a track that makes all straight to open the throttle. Just throw an eye on the speedometer read 110 km / hour! I grab myself a shot and close the gas back a velocità più modeste. All’ingresso di Sbeitla ci sono delle rovine romane ed un sacco di fuoristrada italiani parcheggiati fuori. E’ l’ora di pranzo e cerco un bar per mangiare. Faccio un paio di giri e poi mi ritrovo davanti un gruppo di moto parcheggiate dall’aspetto familiare: Giada, Davide Fun, Davide, Sergio ed Alessandro stanno sbracciando dal tavolino di un ristorante. Ci raccontiamo le avventure della mattinata, pranziamo e torniamo tutti insieme a fare rotta verso Gafsa. Riprendiamo a navigare tra strade asfaltate, fuoripista e sentieri sterrati che iniziano ad essere sabbiosi. Verso sera arriviamo a Gafsa e troviamo alloggio all’Hotel Luna. Decidiamo di andare a cena nel miglior ristornate della città che è characterized by "a triumph of kitsch furniture" as stated in the LP guide. The taxi drivers drive like crazy and we see death in the face both outward and return journey of the Hotel-Restaurant-Hotel. Tomorrow we will tour Tamerza. Every so often while traveling, his thoughts wandered to the dream when I was little and I saw the photos of the adventure in motion on the sand, to return to reality, drifting between past and present in a carefree dance. How pleasant to think that anything can happen tomorrow and you're ready for everything. Both the journey in life.
29/12/2009 56901 Km
After a sleepless night because of the cold in a room with hygiene standards are very distant from Europe, we are everyone to eat their breakfast, then loaded the bikes and make gasoline. I find that I do not know why, but the bike has consumed very little: 23 km / liter of media! 440 km with 19 liters. I still had more or less than 5 liters in the tank, a range of at least 100 km. We see that the proximity of the desert is just fine with Nero! (I was given this name because the bike is orange glow, like the city of Rome when the emperor himself on fire) as a group and immediately leave the track by taking off-road. Along the way are many obstacles to overcome. The path to a certain point is separated by a ravine, leaving a space of about three feet of space between the point where it ends and when again. The pit is about seven meters deep, as if they had blown up the road with explosives. We set off to explore, looking for ways to resume the trail. We find a pastor who shows us the way to go, but a lake separates us from continuing the journey. I make an attempt to overcome along the banks and got over it, so we decide to take the other side all the bikes. Meanwhile, there's four other Italians in motion that we had already met on the ship and join us until Moulares. We find the first stretches of sand. The bikes and riders go crazy trying to keep his balance., I'm going to fly down, but, miraculously, I can to remain standing. So remember what I said about driving on sand: standing on the platforms, heels down, weight back on the tail, and I keep the throttle light on the handlebar and start to float magically on the sand. They are just small samples. In the following days there will be the real litmus test of driving on sand. A Moulares separate ourselves from the other four, who will proceed to Tamerza, and we seek the beginning of the famous track Rommel. We allow ourselves a brief break to eat a banana and drink a sip of water and then off again. We find that the beginning of the track has become an open dump. On a spit of sand lose my balance and I go to the ground. The boot protects the foot to me, but you cut the seat, which pisses me off as a weasel. The track with its stunning views Rommel manages to soften. The track is nestled in a valley formed by strange rock formations like a canyon. On the horizon you can see the shimmering salt lake of Chott el Jerid. Along the way we meet a couple who was on the ship, on his Africa Twin and her on DRZ. Join us until the beginning of the highway that leads to Tozeur. Entrance of the state we separate the pair of bikers and we route to Tozeur. We arrived in town in mid-afternoon. It amazes me for its vitality and its colors. A lot of shops with bright colors and full of people talking alternate with coffee where they accumulate people to play cards. The city stands the minaret from which the muezzin, just before sunset, is launching its appeal to the faithful. I think about the fact that in Arab culture, there was no clock, because the time was marked by the Muezzin and the prayer five times a day. As in oriental tales in which characters come together during the evening prayers, when everyone gathered to pray and no one can eavesdrop on their conversation ... Tozeur is undoubtedly the image of what I expected to find in North Africa. We put ourselves in search of a hotel, but it seems they are all full, both for the tourist season for the festival of Oasis, but I have not understood what it is. I leave the group and share with Sergio looking for an accommodation for the night and find a nice hotel in the center for 35 TD apiece. Certainly the cleanest of all accommodation that visit until now. Too bad that the goalkeeper is the son of a great Paraculo ... I take a shower and then a walk around the town. Let's go to dinner at a restaurant whose name strangely compelling: Le Petit Prince. The restaurant is decorated with paintings made with colored sand representing the story of Antoine de Saint Exupery. They make us sit at a table that is under the picture that represents the meeting of the Little Prince with the Fox, a symbol of unity and relations between people. For the first time I have the opportunity to taste the flesh of camels: very good! It looks great Florentine. What is peculiar to the local serving Tunisian wine. I'm not crazy this "Haute Mornag, at least it's wine! A beautiful round moon, full and bright lights the night, popping up among the palms. After dinner I get a sore neck and I'll take my OKI bedtime. Buy a bottle of water in the shop near the hotel for 0.5 TD and I go to the bar to borrow a cup. When I come back for a refund is blocked by two Tunisians drunks who want to chat. They speak an Italian chewed, but with my broken French and a lot of good will riusciamo a capirci. Loro amano l’Italia e dicono che gli italiani sono brava gente. Lavorano come saldatori in un cantiere a Porto Marghera. Vorrebbero offrirmi da bere, ma gli spiego che ho appena preso la medicina e declino l’invito. In qualche modo riesco a staccarmi da loro e ad andare in stanza. Sto crollando dal sonno e domani mi aspetta il giro del lago salato di Chott El Jerid fino a Douz, e la maggior parte del percorso è in fuoristrada. A volte penso alla rosa che ho lasciato sul mio pianeta, ai vulcani inattivi e ai baobab che potrebbero invaderli. Poi penso che la rosa ha le sue spine per difendersi, i vulcani non erutteranno prima del mio ritorno ed il baobab non avranno tempo di infestare il mio pianeta in così poco tempo. Quindi torno alle foxes and geographers, king or businessmen. Somewhere there will be a rose, only one of millions of roses all the same.
30/12/2009 57099 Km
A hot sun peeps through the cracks of the windows to wake up. Pack your bags and go downstairs to have breakfast while waiting for others to be ready. I love this moment of silence with the passion of a pair of lovers, with the furtive pleasure of those who may be discovered at any moment. When others come down load the bikes and head towards Nefta. In the small town gas station and we find that the average has dropped considerably: 12 km / l! We take a very long trail that circumnavigates straight and all the salt lake and invites us to open the throttle up to get to the remains of the set of Star Wars Episode IV, the first to be released. We make some pictures next to the home of the adoptive parents of Luke Skywalker and then continue the journey. Start a path through the expanse of salt lake, hills and everything completely straight. I put the fifth and I identify with the pilots of the great African rallies. I begin to jump out from the mounds, to ride up the bumps. I see in those videos with aerial shots of the pilots. I have fun like crazy! Jade with his 950 Adventure (which is on the stand taller than she) enjoys doing some jumps. What can I say ... nice neck! We stopped in a remote village called Ghidma to eat about two in the afternoon. Quickly became the idoli dei bambini del paese. Li facciamo salire sulle moto, indossare i caschi e sentire il rombo dei motori. Alla fine ci chiedono se abbiamo un quaderno…nessuno di noi ha nulla da regalargli purtroppo…Arriviamo a Douz verso sera ed impazziamo per trovare un posto per dormire. Le camere sono tutte occupate a causa del Festival internazionale del Sahara, che richiama tutti i popoli del deserto per quattro giorni per corse di dromedari, balli e canti tradizionali, oltre ad un consueto mercato. Alla fine alcuni amici motociclisti, con cui avevamo fatto un pezzo di strada il giorno prima, incontrati in città ci presentano un loro amico locale, tal Mahamoud, il quale ci offre alloggio a casa sua. Lungo la strada incontriamo tantissime persone a cavallo, con i dromedari, con carretti trainati da cavalli o muli o asini, tutti in processione verso il festival. Molti di essi indossano un pastrano di lana di cammello con tanto di cappuccio: ho trovato la tonaca dei guerrieri Jedi! Fatta la doccia vado in paese con Alessandro a comprare la birra per la cena. In due, senza casco, a bordo di Nerone, con una cassa di birra sul portapacchi sembriamo due scippatori. Passiamo una piacevole serata sulla terrazza della casa dove siamo ospitati, cenando, bevendo birra e chiacchierando. Domani ci attende la traversata del deserto da Douz a Ksar Ghilane. Meglio andare a dormire per essere ben riposati per le fatiche dell’indomani.
31/12/2009 Km 57331
L’ultimo giorno dell’anno inizia di prima morning when we leave Douz to make the crossing during the coolest hours of the day. We take the track for Ksar Ghilane, an oasis located in the northern tip of the Great Eastern Erg. From the beginning the route is difficult for us newcomers to the sand. Jade after a few meters change his LC4 400 950 Adventure with the Fun of David that, great rider, leads the buffalo, not without difficulty, until the oasis. Finally my baptism of the sand. I follow directions again friends for driving on sand. Suddenly I understand what is it for my bike. She was born for this, to feel like a fish in water. In full ecstasy of bike and rider, I begin to float on the sand. Sergio with his 990 Adventure has a problem and continues to silt up due to excessive bag and baggage, return them back to help him out of the sand and lift the bike. Along the way we meet other bikers and off every vehicle: Jeep, Unimog, Defender, etc. We stop at the first of the three cafes that serve as waypoints on the track. The Café du Port Desert, where we find a man with a pick-up loads of luggage Sergio, Fun David, David, Jade and Alex up to Ksar Ghilane. Next to coffee, there is a tent where a character out of which we have all heard the stories and representing the image of the desert: a Tuareg. Tall, slender, with a long tunic to the feet, il capo velato dal turbante che gli ha fatto meritare il soprannome di “uomini blu”. Un popolo berbero del Sahara, con una struttura sociale matrilineare di religione islamica, ma con alcune modifiche peculiari. Le donne hanno una libertà maggiore rispetto ad altre culture islamiche, e tra l'altro possono divorziare dal marito. Quando ciò si verifica, dal momento che le tende sono di proprietà della donna, l'ex-marito si ritrova senza un tetto e deve cercare ospitalità presso parenti di sesso femminile. Queste ed altre sono le note che caratterizzano questa popolazione nomade del deserto. Il Tuareg vende alcuni oggetti di artigianato che decido di acquistare. Tra questi un velo blu per coprirsi il capo secondo la tradizione. Il Tuareg mi mostra come indossare il turbante sulla testa e d’improvviso divento un nomade del deserto in piena regola. Dopo poco riprendiamo la pista e, nel pomeriggio, ci imbattiamo in un cordone di dunette alte circa tre metri l’una. Sergio trova difficoltà a superarle. Io stesso mi insabbio una volta. Come mi avevano spiegato butto la moto su un fianco, acchiappo i cerchi e la trascino fuori dalla sabbia molle, il fantomatico fesh-fesh, quindi la rialzo per ripartire. Per fare meno di un km la carovana impiega circa un’ora. Ripartiamo e prendiamo un ritmo più costante. Inizio a saltare con la moto sulla sabbia. Le dune sono strane. Da un lato salgono dolcemente, spazzate dal vento costante del deserto. Dall’altra sono tagliate e vanno giù a picco con dislivelli che variano dai cinquanta centimetri ai due metri. Salgo sulle dunette fuori dalla pista e mi trovo spesso a saltare sulla sabbia per superare il dislivello del lato tagliato delle dune. La cosa è estremamente divertente con la mia moto. Alla fine della giornata ci attende l’ultimo tratto di saliscendi sulla sabbia, evitando un gruppo di persone a cavallo ed alcuni piloti scriteriati a bordo dei quad. Arriviamo a Ksar Ghilane assolutamente provati dalla giornata di sabbia. All’ingresso dell’oasi c’è la famosa pozza di acqua calda dove la gente fa il bagno. Troviamo un sacco di amici e conoscenti arrivati per trascorrere l’ultimo dell’anno in mezzo al deserto. Troviamo alloggio in una tenda con brande e coperte. Un group of Koreans turn to the field ... also came here. Dinner is accompanied by traditional music around a fire made from palm wood. A group of six musicians blacks dressed in white with a red vest and a fez, playing flutes, drums and bells dancing together. But I'm too tired to appreciate it and I leave to my camp bed before midnight. I fell asleep dressed at 11 and 30 and I wake up at four in the morning. The camp is nestled in a magical silence. The full moon shines bright among the palms. I left the tent. It's cold. 30 degrees from the day the temperature fell to 2-4 degrees at night. I close out of Ksar Ghilane, away from the lights of the fields to meet the desert and its stars. Mi trovo ad osservare un paesaggio mozzafiato. Tante, tantissime stelle si spartiscono con la luna il compito di illuminare il cielo della notte nel deserto. Le dune, gialle di giorno, nella notte si tingono di grigio tenue e di nero. Come una bestia feroce accovacciata, il deserto mi osserva, affascinante e pericoloso. Ricordo il Piccolo Principe nel deserto: “Non si vede e non si sente niente. Eppure qualche cosa risplende in silenzio... Ciò che abbellisce il deserto è che nasconde un pozzo in qualche luogo.” E ancora: "Sì, che si tratti di una casa, delle stelle o del deserto, quello che fa la loro bellezza è invisibile". Ho avuto ciò che volevo da questo viaggio. Torno in tenda, mi spoglio, metto il sacco a pelo e mi infilo al calduccio, sognando traversate a bordo di dromedario tra le dune dormendo di giorno e viaggiando di notte, seguendo le antiche vie disegnate dalle stelle, in compagnia di un Tuareg.
01/01/2010 Km 57470
Stamane ce la prendiamo con calma. Faccio colazione e cambio il filtro dell’aria. Lavo la calza copri filtro con la benzina. L’Air Box ha accumulato un po’ di sabbia, ma la protezione ha retto bene ed il motore non ha mangiato la rena. Incontriamo gli amici che avevamo lasciato a Douz. Ci raccontano che hanno lasciato le moto a Douz ed hanno noleggiato dei motorini tunisini: Motobecane, Peugeot e MBK, i veri mezzi del deserto. Poi si sono fatti la traversata sulla sabbia…matti come cavalli! Ci fermiamo a fare benzina in un baracchino che ci versa il liquido nei serbatoi dalle taniche: un vero rifornimento da deserto. Imbocchiamo una pista che dopo poco diventa sabbiosa e, memori dell’esperienza del giorno prima, si decide di percorrere un sentiero più semplice per i due bicilindrici. Il paesaggio cambia. Mano a mano che ci allontaniamo dal deserto, la sabbia e le dune lasciano il posto alle rocce e alle pietraie. Giada crepa il serbatoio destro in una caduta. Davide Fun si adopera per una riparazione con il bicomponente e un pezzo di camera d’aria. Passiamo da Chenini, città che ha dato il nome ad una delle lune del pianeta di Luke Skywalker. Nella città ci sono le case troglodite e uno Ksar (un granaio) fortificato. La città è famosa anche per la Moschea dei Sette Dormienti, ma non andiamo a visitare nulla di tutto ciò e proseguiamo verso Tatatouine.Gli ultimi chilometri sono molto suggestivi e l’asfalto si snoda tra i canyon e le montagne dai toni cangianti alla luce del tramonto. E’ strano fare nuovamente asfalto dopo tutta quella sabbia. Arriviamo a Tatatouine a metà pomeriggio e troviamo alloggio in un albergo molto carino e pulito. La città in realtà è un borgo di quattro strade. La cosa più strana è che è pieno di barbieri e pasticcieri. Il dolce tipico è il “corno di gazzella”: una sorta di rotolo di noci, datteri e frutta secca con tanto miele. Anche oggi tutti a letto presto sfiniti.
02/01/2010 Km 57585
We leave the country heading to Matmata. The idea is to cross the mountains looking for the off-road route with the navigator. In fact after a while we get lost in the middle of nowhere. After several exploratory inspections we decide that the only solution is to break down a wall of stones built as a complement to what appears to be a dam or a dam. Time to tear down the wall and see a Berber peasant with green eyes of a beauty inexplicable to ask (in Arabic) what we were doing. We explained that we lost and we just passed we rebuilt the wall. So, once past the other side, we play the part of a team of masons and rebuilding the Romanian muretto abbattuto poc’anzi. Dopo poco la strada ricompare e diventa un sentiero scorrevole e molto guidato. Dietro una curva, inspiegabilmente, mi si gira la moto e mi trovo a terra. Secondo la legge di Murphy mi si rompe l’unico pezzo che non avevo portato come ricambio: la pedalina sinistra del cambio. In qualche modo riesco ad ingranare la marcia ed arriviamo a Matmata. Nell’omonimo albergo passiamo la serata a giocare a UNO. Giada ha più culo che anima. Nel bagno dell’albergo trovo per la seconda volta nel viaggio l’asciugamano con una sgommata di merda.
03/01/2010 Km 57740
Oggi ci attende la lunga tappa verso Nord di avvicinamento a Tunisi. Tutti abbiamo la sensazione che sia trascorso almeno un mese da quando abbiamo lasciato l’Italia. Ci avviamo verso El Kef.Passiamo di nuovo da Gafsa. In una stazione di benzina smonto la leva del cambio e vado dal meccanico. Lui ripara solo gomme bucate. Gli spiego cosa voglio fare e mi indica di usare gli attrezzi. Blocco la leva in una morsa, con il trapano faccio un buco e poi chiedo al gommista dove posso trovare una ferramenta. Questo mi fa cenno di accompagnarlo. Attraversiamo la strada ed entriamo in una via secondaria. Varchiamo la porta di un capannone sgangherato e dentro vedo due torni e un tizio che sta lavorando con la fiamma ossidrica. Si spiegano in arabo, quindi bloccano la leva su una morsa, con un maschio filettano il buco che avevo fatto e poi infilano un dado con tanti bulloni. Rimonto la leva e provo la moto: perfetta. Con questa riparazione da tre dinari tornerò fino a Roma. I lavori da fare alla moto aumentano: cerchio anteriore, olio, filtri, leva del cambio, tubo del freno a disco anteriore destro da sostituire, sella da ricucire, protezione serbatoio sinistra da sostituire…vabbhè, avevo messo in contro la possibilità che succedesse qualcosa del genere. Ripartiamo verso El Kef, ma dopo poco lo stomaco brontola e facciamo tappa in un chiosco di kebab lungo il percorso. Ci devono essere delle scuole vicine vista la quantità di adolescenti in giro. Tre ragazze entrano nel negozietto e ordinano. Mentre aspettano ci guardano interessate e ridacchiano tra di loro. Faccio un sorriso alla meno brutta (quella senza baffi) e questa diventa rossa e ride con le amiche. Eat the kebab cagotto contemptuous of the danger of lurking and leave again to El Kef. We arrive in the vicinity of the city towards the sunset tinged the mountains that turn pink to Algeria. We are approaching the sunset and the shadows to the left of the bike that dance on the walls and trees to the right. And it's cold. The city appears to light the night like a cascade of diamonds lying on the side of a mountain. We find a nice hotel and heating. Here it is really cold! I go to the bathroom and reveals the mystery of drifting of shit on the towels and tubes with the tap next to the toilet. It was enough to relate the two. I think the pipe with the faucet is the Arabic version of the bidet, but not seeing falls where the water jet, when dry it can happen to leave a souvenir sull'asciugamano. This discovery will make me put on who goes to all my future trips where I will meet the elusive tube with the tap! Dinner, playing UNO and then to bed under 12 covered with the heater gun.
04/01/2010 58186 Km
The journey is almost over. I got what I wanted: remove all of the mind from everyday life, so do cars and the baptism of the sand. The Sahara will hear more about me and Nero. Let El Kef following the directions they gave us to visit the Roman baths. The road climbs up a mountain in the forest and ends in El Kef Close to the ruins. Perhaps it is simplistic to call them ruins seen the excellent condition of the thermal pools. So well preserved that you see a good show to make solar panel on the roof. The spa overlooking a romantic valley with a river. Let's go to Tunis and in the early afternoon we enter the chaos of city traffic to return to the same hotel the first night. We leave the bikes in the courtyard and luggage in the room, then take a taxi and go to the Kasbah. From the square we get the government back in the alleys of the market where we had driven the curious little man with the lantern on the first night. Varied and colorful shops overflowing with people and tourists jostle each other. The vendors in recalling their realms by offering you and showing carpets, jewelry and souvenirs. We end the visit on a terrace of shops. The walls are covered with colored tiles with arabesque themes of many colors. Every so often we can see some marble processing in memory of its past splendor. We observe the panorama of the city from above. And his contradictions. Before us the ancient minarets of Tunis damage on display, while below us, the roofs of the Kasbah, pile up air conditioners and satellite dishes. We leave the Kasbah filled with souvenirs and gifts for friends. We spend the last evening together Celtia between beers, grappa and fig cards, so we lie down for the night ready to leave Africa in the aftermath.
05/01/2010 58400 Km
the morning we have breakfast together one last time before saying goodbye. Just leave the other, replace the DB killer who had taken apart in the same court at the beginning of the trip switch on the bike and Nero will sound muffled, almost sad. The trip comes to an end. Load your luggage and throw myself in traffic, where, not without difficulty, I can find a way to reach the port of La Goulette. And handles customs clearance for shipment - this time much simpler than the first leg - and I make friends with Vania and John, a couple of nice Florentine on board an Africa Twin. I am on the fourth trip to Tunisia.
06/01/2010 58430 Km
The ferry goes slow on a sea of \u200b\u200boil to its end and I brood over the trip, its meanings and its teachings. When greeting friends at the port docks and cover the last 70 km from Civitavecchia to Rome to fast trot. At the end of the odometer 58511 km marks. End of the trip under the house, greeting shopkeepers and downloading for the last time the luggage, the 50-liter bag that was my world on this trip stray.
all photos can be seen here:
http://picasaweb.google.it/psychopororomantico/Tunisia200910?authkey=Gv1sRgCP7Jpv7Y3p6-Iw
http://picasaweb.google.it/tapporosso/Tunisia2010 # #
http://travel.webshots.com/album/576217983HFRxAv
