We both did our research regarding the plausibility of actually visiting the so-called Lars Homestead (Luke’s childhood home), and determined that people had very mixed thoughts about being able to drive out to it. Some were adamant that you could not do it without getting stuck in the salt pan. Google AI, on the other hand, said it could be done in a regular sedan as long as it hadn’t rained recently. We concluded that since we’d come all this way, it wouldn’t hurt to see for ourselves.
After a fairly hearty breakfast of french pastries and crepes, we drove the thirty minutes just past the town of Naftah. We kept our eyes peeled on the horizon for any semblance of the domed igloo-shaped abode of wee Luke Skywalker. We saw some tire tracks going off into the sand and I verified with my zoom lens that there was some semblance of a structure in the far distance. We decided to give it a go despite having just a small Indian-made Mahindra hatchback with 2wd.
Driving across a salt pan is an odd sensation. We made it to about 800m from our destination when I thought the traction was getting away from me. Interestingly enough, many people have said they got stuck near the end. I decided to stop the car at the first sign of skidding, and we hiked the rest of the way. The ground was oddly squishy.
Against all odds, we had made it. Evidently very few people get out here and that even includes the Star Wars-specific tours. Obviously, there’s not much there as you can see, but it is such an iconic piece of cinematic history, that I would have felt a little sad if we hadn’t seen it. We attempted to recreate some of the scenes with Luke brooding. I will have to add the two suns in post-production.
We mostly had it to ourselves, though a guide eventually showed up with a French couple. He asked us where we were from and I said, “España” hoping to end the conversation. Being persistently asked where I’m from annoys me for reasons I can’t articulate. That being said, like the scene in Inglourious Basterds, where Brad Pitt’s character is posing as an Italian with an unconvincing “Bwon Jhorno”, Nazi Colonel Hans Landa begins talking back in fluent Italian. This is more or less what happened and I all of a sudden found myself in a deeper and deeper lie about being from Madrid. It’s going to have to be Japanese next time…
After returning to the vehicle and making a successful escape from the salt pan, we drove to another salt pan called the Chott El Jerid. We stopped off briefly at a viewpoint of the salty landscape. They had constructed some weird sculptures and things in the area that made it look a little culty. Nicole said it looked like Burning Man. We had another four hours of driving before arriving in Kairouan. It is a walled city and we couldn’t seem to figure out how to get inside the wall. We eventually found an entrance, but finding parking for the hotel was going to be another issue. As we were pulled off to the side, a man found us and asked us which hotel we were trying to find. He then led us via scooter bike to Dar Alouini. He saw Nicole get out of the car and exclaimed, “Italiana!” He looked at me with a shrug of bewilderment.
We spoke French initially, but after he discovered we were both American, thought it best to switch to . . . Italian. Nicole explained that she didn’t actually know Italian, but I did. He knew Italian because his wife was Italian. Unclear what happened to her. Hopefully not kidnapping and murder. Either way, he and I conversed in Italian as he explained that we should visit the mosque tonight because the light was going to be much better than tomorrow morning. After checking in using a combination of French and English, we exited the hotel to find our friend reappear out of nowhere to guide us to the Grand Mosque of Kairouan. He led us in, and I asked in Italian if it was ok if we took pictures while people were praying. He didn’t seem to think anything of it.
It really started getting wacky when we were led up a random adjacent building to the rooftop for a view overlooking the mosque in the evening light. Our new friend was eager to show Nicole a tourist video on his phone featuring himself. He showed her twice in case she didn’t see the first time. We then got pulled into a carpet shop where a man was doing his best sales pitch, but we weren’t entirely in the market for one…or are we? Nicole said we could stop by tomorrow.
I ended up ordering pizza through a local delivery app. The driver had a bit of difficulty finding the hotel (I’ve been there habibi!), but eventually after a few phone calls we sorted it out. The pizza was . . .ok. It was sustenance until our next meal. We ate partially in a blackout because the power kept coming and going. The hotel staff brought us candles in hopes of making the best of it. After an hour, the power came back…hopefully for good. They shot Raiders of the Lost Ark here back in 1980 and everyone got dysentery. This fact concerned Nicole — even with our pizza. Just for fun, we also reenacted the “bad dates” scene.
With power reestablished (we think), we settled in for the evening. Tomorrow I hope to avoid being kidnapped in a large basket while Nicole runs through the medina in hopes of finding me. Also, we got to steer clear of Nazis. I hate those guys.
passports & pepto bismol 