Over the Sea
THE popularity of ocean travel, a renewed desire for which is awakened in many of us with the coming of spring, is evident when we consider how many people have already started, or are about to start, on a voyage in search of health, recreation or climate. Statistics show that certain companies that run these steamers have taken between five and six millions of pounds in passage money during the past year. Yet the expense of a tour is not always as much as it sounds : a friend of mine who has just sold her house has gone on a world-tour in order to economize.
There is a great deal to be said in favdur of ocean travel. There is no packing and unpacking, no fuss of catching trains or losing one's temper and one's luggage. Where newspapers are not, and only such information as the wireless inflicts on those flying from civilization disturbs the peace, life on a big liner has much charm. Personally, I confess, I want something More ; I would willingly give up my place in a world cruise for one that combines the sea voyage with excur- sions on land. It is for this reason that I would give the preference to a combined sea and land tour to Northern Africa, where the land trip is not only confined to the environs of a port but takes one into the heart of the country.
Some people take the train to Marseilles and cross over to Algiers or Tunis, but this is not a good route, as the short crossing is often extremely unpleasant. The P. and 0. liners run from London to Algiers in five days and the voyage is one that is always delightful ; once in Africa, however, the traveller must rely on .the Transatlantic Company's excellent arrangements for his comfort.
It is not so much Tunis with its fine bazaar, or Algiers with its citadel-crowned hill where once the pirates reigned, that remains in the memory as something seen, leading to new pastures ; it is rather the trackless Sahara, the cities in the oases and the old remains of forgotten shrines mouldering along what was once a Roman road. A journey through Algeria and Tunisia by motor car offers the observant traveller all sorts of new experiences and weird side-lights on life. This desert, unlike some others, heaps up. gigantic sandhills, thrown up as if with a giant's spade by the roystering wind that sweeps the steppe, imprinting all sorts of Cubist designs on the sides of the slopes. Tobogganing up and down these slopes is part of the fun of the adventure, especially when the car finds the grade too steep and has to return to the attaek time after time before the top is scaled.
A restful feature of desert travel is .the silence. Not Venice herself gives such a sense of peace and quiet as does a city in one of .the oases, seen on a moonlight night when the sand and the whitewashed walls and the domes are flooded with light-and when the feet sink into the soft sand, making no sound. A glimpse into a native café, lit by the glow from a hanging lamp, shows figures, swathed in white, lying silently on the long benches, like ghosts in a land of dreams. In contrast, the crowded Suqs of such towns as Sfax or Susa on the eastern coast, or the holy city of Qairowan itself, are alive with colour and movement. As to Biskra, to which one comes- fresh from the open spaces, Biskra with its big hotels and its tourists, the state of civilization is quite oppressive.
One of the most fascinating places in Tunisia is the ruined city of Dougga, perched high on the scarp of a hill, overlooking a fertile plain which earned for-the original fortified Berber village the title of Thugga. Unlike Timgad, the- African Pompeii, it remained African in character even after the Romans practically rebuilt the Numidian fortress, for they kept to the old lines of twisting streets and were obliged, by the. nature of the ground, to retain the flights of ,steps that . led from one .level . to another. The theatre at Douggit is one of the most complete and the most picturesque in .Africa, and the Lybico-Punic monument, pieced together again after its wanton destruction, is, . of course, unique.
One of the chief needs on a tour of this sort, where one is tempted to stop and turn aside so often, is a liberal allowance of time. A private car, which can be hired together. with a chauffeur who understands the desert and • its ways, is the ideal conveyance, though much can .be achieved in a comparatively short time travelling by tourist cars. In a month or six weeks mueh can be seen and the life spent in the open, sandwiched in between two sea voyages, ought to put new vigour into the most weary. Whether it does or not, however, depends on the mood in which the journey is undertaken.
The true traveller is born, not made curious; alert and good-tempered as a general rule, with a capacity for adventure. He or • she—especially she—must be inspired to bring only just what is necessary in order to appear perfectly equipped fdr any emergency. And this is not so easy as it sounds !
BEATRICE ERSKINE.
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