Especially after visiting a place like Libya, where one finds universal warmth and friendliness, Tunisia comes as a shock. The tourist industry people do suck up, but it’s a pretty cold and self-serving sort of goodwill that isn’t really worth much, in my books.

If you’re born in Iran or Egypt (as I was), be prepared to be treated like an escaped convict by every petty bureaucrat you meet (and there are a lot of them – there are passport checks, all along the roads, and they always flip to check your birthplace, first). Nationality is irrelevant; they want to know your birthplace, as if it is something within your control and worthy of judgement. Tunisia is the only country I’ve visited that left me wishing I’d contacted the Canadian embassy, ahead of time, to have them come and fish me out of prison, in case I go missing.

For everyone not born in a country on the Tunisian hit list, apart from some interesting architecture in Tunis, it’s just boring: a lot of donkeys; masses of olive trees; and some sad, little, Club Med wannabes (plus one real one) on Djerba.

My thumb is decidedly down, on this one.