Act I – The Master Plan
I always have a plan. Not just one – usually two or three, stacked neatly like a deck of tarot cards predicting my future.
The plan for my Tunisian migration was solid (in theory):
- Fly in style, “expat light.”
- Settle into a luxury apartment in Kantaoui, guarded gates, palms swaying, gardeners trimming hedges into perfect geometric patterns.
- Learn a bit of Arabic, blend in gracefully, maybe even sip mint tea on a balcony overlooking the sea.
- After a year, downgrade gently into a “normal” neighborhood in Sousse.
That was the fantasy. Reality, as always, had other plans.
Act II – Kantaoui: Pretty Outside, Rotten Inside
On the surface, Kantaoui was picture-perfect. The brochure screamed luxury living, the photos were glossy, the furniture allegedly brand-new.
What I got instead: outside hui, inside pfui.
The building looked glamorous, but the interior was a collection of broken furniture that hadn’t been new for at least ten years. (Pro tip: real estate photos in Tunisia are apparently shot once in a decade, then recycled indefinitely.)
This was the infamous Dahmen Immo crisis you’ve already heard me rant about. I signed a lease for what was promised as “less than a year old” furnishing. In reality, it was “less than a century stable.” A glittering cage filled with junk.
Act III – Tantana: Ugly Outside, Gorgeous Inside (With Bugs)
So I moved to Tantana. On paper, the opposite of Kantaoui. Here it’s outside pfui, inside hui.
The house itself – or rather the lower floor I rent – is tastefully decorated. Stylish, elegant even. For once, the pictures didn’t lie.
But then came the armies.
Ants so hungry they stage raids at lightning speed. You can’t even make a humble sandwich without the kitchen erupting into an insect buffet. One breadcrumb on the counter and it’s gone faster than my dignity.
And the cockroaches. Big enough to have their own passports. One waved at me the other night. I nearly booked a flight home right then and there. Only the lack of reliable internet saved me from a humiliating emergency-return to Switzerland.
Act IV – Expectations vs. Reality
Let’s be clear: I knew Tunisia before. Jendouba was no fairy tale. I was perfectly aware this was a developing country compared to Switzerland.
But I honestly thought that decades of scouting and camping would toughen me up. Gas bottles for cooking? Cute. In Switzerland we use those for camping trips. Here it’s daily life, and I just shrug.
But nothing – absolutely nothing – prepared me for the crawling reality.
Not the mosquitoes, not the stray cats, not even my old Pfadi latrines. Ants and cockroaches have declared war on me, and unlike my camping badge collection, I don’t get a medal for surviving them.
Act V – The Human Factor
People in Tantana? They sit outside, watching me with curiosity. Not hostile, not friendly either. Just… watching. No small talk. No “welcome to the neighborhood.” Just eyes. Maybe it’s the language barrier. Maybe it’s me.
Meanwhile:
- No ATM in sight.
- No Mars Gold Cigarettes in local shops.
- Fish restaurants with no menu.
- Carrefour refusing to acknowledge my street even exists, unless guided with frantic hand gestures from the main road.
Welcome to Tantana.
Status Report
Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Slightly paranoid.
But hey – brutally exposed, raw, and very much alive.