Said my goodbyes to the chaps in the hostel, jumped in a taxi and headed on over to the port, stopping at various banks on the way out… er, can I change this wad of Tunisian dinar to Euros please?

No, sorry, interdit.

What? I can’t even change these dinars back to Euros in YOUR country?

Yep, it’s against the law. You can only rid yourself of your dinars in the airport.

Christ Almighty.

Fingers crossed I could change the money in the sea port an’ all, I arrived in good time for my ferry which was (supposed to be) leaving at 1pm.

I asked at information if I could change my Tunisian dinars here, they said I could but I’d have to wait for the bureau du change(s) to re-open.

Er… they are closed? There is only ONE ferry leaving here today and they have closed for LUNCH?

Yep.

So, will I be able to change my money before getting on the ferry?

Er, probably not, no, they’ll be closed for a couple of hours.

OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD………

You’ll have to go to the bank, it’s downstairs.

‘Downstairs’ in Tunisian means ‘down the ramp, and walk around the entire dock for half an hour in the baking heat with all your bags until the sweat is dripping from your brow’.

By the time money was changed (phew!) and I had got back to the terminal, the customs guy was shouting at me for ‘being late’. I explained about the bureau du change being closed and…

It’s not my problem.

Welcome to Africa, Graham sweetie. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.

The ferry didn’t leave for another two hours.

Time for bed. Well, cushioned bench seat.