Le platinum

The Neighborhood "Disco Mosque"

Yes the name of the salon de the (tea) that I am having my evening espresso at sounds like a bad strip joint. That's how it goes. But it is close and allows me to watch Portugal play Spain from an outside table through the glass doors - which is important if you abhor cigarette smoke like I do. I am also intrigued with the waitress here. She ripped me off last time I was in  maybe thinking I was just passing through. Nothing major, just overcharging for drinks not thinking I would come back and look at a menu. So maybe this place does have something in common with exotic dance clubs after all.  Anyway, I am enjoying watching her squirm wondering if I am on to her. She dances around in about five languages but not English. Convenient. On to more important topics - Dinner at Ibrahim's house Sunday night was fantastic. I met my new friend at the Bardo museum and this gave me the opportunity to flirt a bit with a very cute tour guide who is also a PhD student in archaeology whom I met on the previous visit. Nesrine - or "white flower" - lives up to her adorable name and practically overflows with historical knowledge. I was a little disappointed though when she said she had no desire to ever cross the border of Tunisia. It was surprising to hear this and wonder if I misunderstood somehow.

The couscous that night was very good indeed and I was treated like a king - or perhaps a duke. I am prohibiting myself from smiley faces after sentences like that one in my blog. Illegal. The meal was sublime: Couscous with savory chicken, crisp cucumber salad, baguette, homemade strawberry smoothie with floral essence added for affect, and superb fresh mint tea accompanied by raw almonds to accompany a selection of petite fours I brought along for dessert. While the food and the hospitality was extraordinary, there was a very grave shadow over the evening. Ibrahim's sister, Amirah - which means princess in Arabic incidentally -was attacked by a mugger downtown as she was walking to catch the train home. The now potentially walking dead man grabbed her purse, she resisted, and he pulled out his knife and slashed her face deeply on either side.  The wounds were not vastly different from the ones I recall from the Batman movie of a few years ago where the Joker slashed permanent grins on his victims. Hence, her extremely protective brother has enlisted many of his friends and allies on a vigilante mission to find and deliver a form of justice I will leave to the imagination for the purposes of this piece. Suffice to say, bon chance Monsieur.

On a less dour note, I did my very best to be cheerful during the visit, as the family was attempting to stay positive, and it was twistedly pleasant to see Amirah try to stifle her laughter at my attempts to speak credible Arabic. Every time she smiled it threatened to tear out her stitches. Like I said, twisted. Makbooba wore a fantastic Berber tunic and almost never stopped smiling around me even though we could not speak directly and I did my very best to congratulate her on a magnanimous effort. Before Ibrahim and I departed for the cafe and more raucous Arab man love and World Cup action, Amirah told me this was not goodbye and that I was now one of the family. What does one say to that? I was even invited to come back during the festivities of Ramadan in August which is a most solemn, and also joyous, but intimate family event. I will unquestionably be returning to their home. I do hope that the wounds this family have suffered recently will have softened in the interim. Insh'allah.

Yesterday, there was a formal US embassy brief covering the basic functions and roles of the various departments with a little recruitment effort thrown in.  After, Lee took several of us to a terrific restaurant in La Garrott. Only one state brand of wine is produced in Tunisia and fortunately, the label produces some nice vintages of a merlot/syrah blend. A worthy accompaniment to a fresh seafood dinner by the radiant early evening sea. Lee was gracious in his generosity and the five of us capped off a fine day.

Tunisia has many surprises. Most are desirable. A few, apparently, are not. Like any city of several million but with a flair unique unto itself. L'aissez les bon temps roulette.

DD

Ibrahim at home in the Martyrs Quarter of the Medina

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"Good Girls Go to Heaven, Bad Girls Go to London"

Priceless.