How do they hook their bras with just their fins?

Note:  I'm in the desert, hopefully being woed by scores of amorous date farmers.  And I know that you thought you could catch a break but thanks to the miracle of science and my undying love for you I won't let that happen.   Here's a little jem.

Remeber this guy?  We ran into him again, but this time out on the beach by the marina.  He spotted us and came over to chat, asking if I remembered him.  Of course I did.  You don't forget a guy with no teeth who offers you a jumbo shrimp.  He spent a few minutes explaining how he couldn't fish today because the wind was coming from the south and the sea was rough.  Boy, was it.  I've never seen water so choppy.  ("The sea was angry that day, my friends."*  One million imaginary points to the first person who can give the next line.)  But then he said the following, "In two weeks you come to my ship and I give you fish.  Good for the boys.  But not good for girls.  But boys, yes.  Because they don't have..." And then he pantomimed out breasts.  "You know.  The fish, they don't have any...."  And he did it again.  "So it's good for boys.  Come to my boat in 2 weeks and I'll have fish for you.  Okay?"

Okay!  It's a date.  Because if there are fish without boobs then their must be fish with boobs and this I've got to see.

Packed

Have I told you that Henry doesn't like people.  He likes his mom and his dad and on every second Thursday from 11 to 12 he likes me.  But everyone else can go jump off a cliff.  A tall cliff.  With jagged rocks sticking out.  And rabid coyotes chasing you as you run towards the edge in case you chicken out about jumping.  To win his affections I take him on grand adventures to the beach to throw rocks at the waves and the marina to throw rocks at the fancy ships and that time I talked our way onto a tour bus, which he later threw rocks at. 

Today's adventure:  the train.

My original plan was just to go onto the platform and watch them go by but I knew that he would want to get on once he saw that it was an option so I bought a ticket (for approximately $.50 - I should write a post on how insanely cheap everything is here.) and we hung out on the platform and threw rocks onto the tracks until the train pulled up.  As soon as we got on I realized that it may not have been the best time for a train adventure.  Because it was rush hour.  The train was packed.  I can't even think of a good metaphor for how packed we were.  Sardines don't cut it.  But here are two examples:

1.)  We were standing next to a group of school girls and at one stop about 20 businessmen squeezed in (using wizarding magic I assume because I didn't see any room for them to begin with) and pushed us all back and one of the girls ended up in the armpit of one of the buisnessmen.  There was zero room for her to move and she just kept giggling at the situation - which was cute.  We got off at the next stop with the girls and the men all had to raise their arms and form a tunnel for us to walk through to the exit.

2.)  When we finally got off the train and watched it pull out we saw just how crammed in we were.  The doors couldn't close because there were people bursting out, holding on to the bars outside the train.  One kid was literally hanging from one of the bars, his feet dangling about 10 feet above the ground as the train sped off.

So it was tight.  But here's the amazing thing - Henry, with all of his wishful thinking of people jumping off cliffs, was a champ.  He ate it up.  He kept pointing out the window and saying, "Train!  Train!"  He doesn't like people touching him.  At all.  But he was mauled in the train and took it like a pro.  I could not have been prouder of the little guy.  I think I'm going to try to get him onto one of those fancy ships next. 

*****

I'm off to the desert tomorrow for three days and then Rome for six.  So it's going to be light on posting around here.  I promise to have lots of stories and pictures of gelato when I get back.

Duty Free Heaven

Did I tell you that Bronwyn and I cook like...two people who cook a lot?  Because we do.  I have greatly missed the World's Largest Felt Collection and all my yarn and fabric and crayons and sparkly beads - basically anything I can get crafty with - so cooking has been a great creative outlet for me.  Bronwyn is a fantastic cook and we drool over cookbooks and her Bon Appetit magazines looking for great recipes to try out. 

Today we hosted a luncheon for some of the ladies here.  We cooked and cooked and cooked.  Oh, did we cook.  Most of yesterday and all of this morning.  Someone walked in said, "It smells like an American kitchen in here."  Which it totally did.  An American kitchen in the Fall.

Our menu:

Ricotta, Proscuitto and Roasted Tomato Tostini
Strawberry Lemon Ginger slushie punch
Pumpkin Soup (You guys, this soup makes me feel like I just won something.  It's that good.)
Butternut Squash Gnocchi
Parmesan Rolls
Lime Coconut Cookies

It is not always easy to find ingredients here.  Canned pumpkin, for instance, is a miracle.  Who cooks down pumpkins anymore?  Tunisians, that's who.  Or they must because it's certainly not canned.  And their pumpkins are slightly different from ours, in that they're green on the outside and have about a foot more meat on the inside, which ups the roasting time to 20 gajillion hours and then you're left with 20 pounds of roasted pureed pumpkin in your freezer.   

We got a lot of stuff from the commisary at the embassy but were still missing a few ingredients so Bronwyn got directions to a duty free shop out by the airport that was rumored to have hard to find American food.  So we headed out a few days ago.  Remember when you were a kid and you'd be thumbing through the Highlights magazine at the doctor's office and it would have those games in it where there would be a bunch of jumbled curvy lines and you had to follow the line to figure out which ends connected?  That's how the streets are here.  And only half of them have numbers on them.  So we had the address and the name of the place and we knew we were in the right neighborhood but we could not find it at all.  We just kept driving around and around.  So we asked a cop, who drew us a map while standing in the middle of the road and directing traffic.  And we still couldn't find it.  Then we asked a mechanic we found down some side street and he pointed us right back to where the cop sent us.  Which was this unsigned, gated, guarded building.  We drove up to the gate and the guard waved us in, like he was expecting us.  We figured out that he saw our diplomat plates because apparently only diplomats can come in.  So he opened the gate and pointed us towards the underground parking.  We headed down and then another guard lifted another gate, and then another.  It was like some kind of espionage film.  All we were looking for was molasses but you would think the building held the secrets to cold fusion with all the security they had going on there.  We half expected someone to slide a door open and ask for a password.  There were still no signs indicating where the shop was but we were directed to an elevator which took us up to the second floor and when the door opened it's like we'd walked into Duty Free Heaven.  There were counters for Dior and Prada and high end electronics.  And there were enough cigarettes and liquor to really make you believe you found your way to the Tunisian speak-easy. 

But no molasses. 

I bet she was a spy

The other night I went to a classical guitar concert up at the cathedral on Byrsa Hill

I sat next to a woman who was wearing:

1.  An amber ring the size of a volleyball

2.  A turban

3.  A fur trimmed cape, with ties that had fur pom-poms.

She reminded me of the lady in the Beatles' classic Help!

Only in black instead of pink.

The Winds of Dougga

Bronwyn and the boys and I headed out to Dougga for, wait for it, more Roman ruins.  Because we just can't get enough.  Dougga is about halfway between Tunis and Algeria.  There was talk of me driving out by myself because the boys weren't feeling so hot the day before and after driving out with Bronwyn I can tell you, I would have had to do some serious pantomiming to find my way there.  How would you act out, "Ancient Roman Ruins of Dougga"?

The drive was very lovely though.  Rolling hills filled with fruit orchards.  We stopped at a fruit stand and bought some pomegranites, oranges, pears, and grapefruits.  Don't they look gorgeous?

The kid running the joint spoke a little English and seemed really proud to use it.  He kept pointing out fruits and saying their English names.

Dougga is set up on a hill overlooking a valley and the site is quite large.  It has a few temples and an amphitheater and lots of other buildings that I can only guess what they were.  7-Eleven, maybe? 

It took over 2 hours to get out there and we only stayed for about 45 mintues because, Holy Roman Empire, it was COLD.  So, so cold.  And the wind.  Oy, the wind!  No wonder the Romans left the place.  You fool yourself, living on the Mediterranean, into thinking that every day is sunshine and gentle breezes, so we just were not prepared for that kind of assault.

But hooray for my snuggle buddy.

Side note:  Doesn't the Winds of Dougga sound like a great band name?  From the 70s maybe?  I'm picturing lots of hair and synthesizers.

Happy Birthday Mom!

How about a non-Tunisian blog post.  (Boy, what a relief, right?)  How about something really important?  Something like...

MY MOM'S BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!

Since I am in Far Far Away Land and can't be there for her birthday celebration I thought we could celebrate right here.  So let's all give three cheer for my beautiful, wonderful, funny, sassy, all-around terrific Mom.  Feel free to post your love and admiration for her in the comments section.

I love you, Mom! 

Mad Dancing - the Universal Language

A few weeks ago I noticed a billboard for the Mika concert here and thought it would be fun.  I like Mika.  He's just the right kind of Euro-Pop that is fun to dance to without being utterly obnoxious.  But I don't think I would go out of my way to see him back in the states.  Tunis, on the other hand, sure, I'll do that.  Alone even - as I couldn't find anyone who was free to come along.  So I hopped in a cab and headed into the city and using rudimentary French and exaggerated hand gestures managed to get to the place.

Oh my, was it fun.  I mean FUN.  Me and 5000 Tunisian teenagers and their good natured parents - plus the six British kids I chatted with in the security line.  There was a balloon drop and a confetti gun and a giant inflated pink high heel that was bounced around the floor and strobe lights and glow sticks and at one point a line up of what I can only describe as can-can dancers in a Dia de los Muertos parade.  And Mika was wearing sparkly sneakers and was a master at the rock-and-roll split kick.  Everyone I sat around was friendly and fun.  This cute couple next to me would lean over and scream something French in my ear then I'd lean over and scream back in English and then we'd shrug and do mad dancing.

I came home smelling like an ashtray (It was so smoky in the arena you would think they had turned on the fog machine.  Let's hear it for American smoking laws!!!), and I think I may be permanently deaf in my left ear, but what is lung cancer and hearing loss to a night of fun?

Jumbo Shrimp

Henry and I headed down to the marina this afternoon.  Once you get inside you can go to the left, which takes you past the fancy yachts, or to the right, which takes you to the dry docks and fishing boats.  Henry, being a Man of the People, chose the right.  We played around the rental boats and threw rocks in the water and watched the fishermen clean out their nets.  While we were playing on the stairs at the gas pumps this Tunisian man came up and started talking to me in German (?)  Fortunately my 4 years of German helped me barely make out that he was telling me he spent 6 months in Germany.  Then I told him I wasn't from Germany but from America and he said, "Oh!  I was in America too!  Miami.  1969."  Then he held out a jumbo shrimp (again, ?) and made a face at Henry. 

That smile of Henry's is a miracle.  Every other picture I have of him looks like he's saying, "Put that camera away woman and get me some more rocks to throw in the water."

We watched the windsurfers for a while and then headed back.

I don't generally take pictures of cats but this one just looked like he was living the life.  I mean, how great is your life if you get to curl up on a fisherman's net and dream about eating faces. 

More Roman Ruins, and a Comb-over

My friend Sun and I took the train down to see the coliseum in El Jem.  Okay, technically it's an amphitheater but we'll call it a coliseum just to make the purists mad.  It's second to the one in Rome in size and better preserved.  El Jem is about 130 miles from here and I thought the landscape would vary a little since we were headed so far south, but no, it doesn't.  It's 130 miles of olive groves.  And more olive groves.  And look over there!  Another olive grove.

There were also wee villages each with their own mosque and several flocks of sheep.  Some day I'll tell you of my plan to become a shephard.  It just seems like such an idyllic life.

When you get into El Jem you walk about a block from the train station and the coliseum is right there.  It is pretty spectacular.

They held chariot races and gladiator fights here.  And now they hold music festivals.  Which seems a bit like a let down.

Hi Mom!

They had a few signs saying things like "Stairs" and "Chairs" and "Toilets"  but what we really wanted was a sign that said, "This way to the underground tunnels where they used to house lions and slaves."  We found them without it.

Here is Sun going towards the lights

 

After the coliseum we followed the one sign to the museum which ended up being across town.  They have some really impressive mosaics that were found in the area.  All the signs for the pieces said things like "Found on the land of So and So."  Can you imagine being an olive farmer and one day you're out pruning and you stumble across an ancient Roman mosiac?

Here are some killer ducks and dolphins.

 

And here's a tiger eating the face off of a slave.

Or, translated into modern times, a feral cat eating the face off of a tourist.

It was so nice to have someone to see the sights with.  I do a lot of things on my own here and while I'm a pretty solitary creature it's refreshing having someone to talk to.  Sun was great to have along.  And bonus, she speaks French.  I did zero pantomiming today.  I forget how much easier it is when you can actually communicate with people.  Thanks Sun!

And finally, I saw a lot of impressive things today, but probably the most impressive was this comb-over.  You can't tell from the picture but it sparkled in the setting sun.

Canned Tuna

1.)  Suddenly it's fall in Tunisia.  It's been rainy and cold for a few days now so we've spent a lot of time at home so this afternoon I took Henry out for a drive.  We stopped off at Byrsa Hill where there were about 10 tour buses parked.  Henry loves buses, and tractors, and cars and trucks so I decided to ask (through elaborate pantomiming) one of the bus drivers if we could walk around inside.  The following is the imaginary conversation Henry and I had based on what I actually said and what he said through his very meaningful looks:

Me:  You want to go on the bus?
Henry:  Are you serious?
Me:  Come on, let's ask the driver if we can go on?
Henry:  If you're kidding we're through.
Me:  I'm not kidding.
Henry:  I mean it, woman.  You don't joke about these sorts of things.
Me (to the bus driver): Can we get on the bus?
Henry:  Let's do this thing!

He then proceded to run down the aisle and sit in one of the seats and die from sheer bliss.  For ten minutes all he could say was, "It's a bus!  It's a bus!  It's a bus!  Bus!  Bus!  Bus!  Bus!  Ooh, it's big!  It's a bus!"

2.)  You'll never guess what the most popular food is here.  Canned tuna.  I'm not even kidding.  You know how in normal grocery stores they have about 2 feet on a shelf dedicated to tuna?  Here they have an entire aisle.  Top to bottom running the entire length of one side - all canned tuna.  They put it on everything.  We went out for pizza last night and half the pizzas on the menu had tuna on them.  The dip they brought out with the bread was olive oil, harissa (a yummy local hot sauce) and tuna.  Crazy-ville.

3.)  The teenagers here love Lady Gaga.  Regularly I hear packs of them singing out, "Alejandro, Alejandro, Alejandro!"  Also, I was noticing how many teenagers there are here.  Hoardes of them!  And I thought, is there some kind of teenager boom going on?  How come there are so many?  And it struck me that maybe I'm seeing so many because they all walk home from school and hang out outside instead of being chauffered around by their parents or playing video games inside and I suddenly wanted to high five them all.