Café le Glacier

So. While we're not living in Scheveningen anymore, we're still living at the sea. And I'm still spending my Mondays with my daughter. Therefore, I figured there was actually no reason to stop this blog just because we're not able to visit the Scheveningen beach clubs nowadays. However, since a lot of the places in our new town don't open until noon, I've tweaked the concept a bit. It's now either lunch or breakfast - our both, combined in a glorious brunch.

We've settled in Sidi Bou Said, a wonderful little place just outside Tunis. It's an old harbour town with whitewashed walls and blue window panes and balconies. Famous artists and philosophers such as Paul Klee and Michel Foucault once lived here. The place has a very laid back atmosphere and plenty of cafés and restaurants to visit.

Today, Rihanna Gaga and I are going to visit the harbour. While we live in the modern part of Sidi Bou Said, on top of the cliffs, the harbour is down at the sea side. First we have to cross the old part of the town, which is located even higher than where we live. We pass the labyrinthine alleys and streets that make up the souk and medina and then begin the steep descent that will lead us to the sea. It's quite a walk and it's hot, but Rihanna Gaga is in a very good mood. This is no route that's easily negotiated with a stroller, so she sits on my arm. Together we sing songs to keep us going. There's one song she's particularly fond of - it's about a fish in a bowl who can't talk. At the end, the fish is told to turn around, and everytime I sing this, I actually turn around, which is greatly appreciated by the little one while Tunisians who see us walk by find our pirouettes quite amusing.

The harbour has an large amount of small and bigger yachts. Overlooking the rows of boats is a small café (no website), where we sit down. Rihanna Gaga's mood has declined significantly upon arriving here, because she's gotten sunscreen in her eye. It stings and she keeps rubbing it, making it worse for herself. She cries pitifully, but there's little more I can do for her than wipe her eyes with a wet towel. Luckily it helps and soon she's up and running.

She fits right into the blue and white decor, with her marine dress. Within minutes, she's become the star of the cafe, running around, smiling at everyone. It works: everybody present seems to fall in love with her. There's an Italian couple with a small baby who look so proudly at her that an unsuspecting passerby would probably think this is their second child. The other patrons are Tunisian and they react even more enthusiastically when Rihanna Gaga approaches their table. One young woman jumps up and starts kissing her. Another couple feed her French fries.

In the week that we've been here, Rihanna Gaga has gotten used to all of this. At first, she was slightly overwhelmed by the constant attention, but now she accepts it matter of factly, like a popstar. What really interests her, is the group of cats that hangs around the café. Wherever the cats go, she goes. She wants to feed them and keeps throwing leaves and branches at them, shouting 'ham!' - the sound she makes when she wants to denote food.

After a while, I manage to persuade her to join me for our lunch. I've ordered a cheese pancake and a lambmeat sandwich. She eats large bits of the cheese pancake, a few chunks of lambmeat, but is especially interested in the French fries. She also claims most of the olives - a sour kind of olives typical for Tunisia that she really likes, surprisingly enough. The food is tasty, although the pancake could do with a bit more spice, while the sandwich could do with a bit less - as is usual in Tunisia, it is seasoned generously with harissa, a local red hot chili pepper paste.

The radio is playing hits from the nineties and before. The first song I notic ABBA's sublime "The Winner Takes it All", followed by quintessential mid-nineties ballad "I Swear" by All 4 One. Then comes Alexia's horrendous "Uh la la la", but all of this inevitably leads to what is without a doubt one of the best songs from the nineties: the amazing "Backstreet's Back" from the Backstreet Boys.

Rihanna Gaga has gone back to the cats and I finish the sandwich. She keeps returning to the couple at the table next to us for French fries, which I find a bit embarassing, but they don't seem bothered at all. I pick her up and clean her mouth and hands, which have become quite dirty from all that messing about. Everybody waves at her while we leave the café, on our way to the beach close by. It's late October and we're going for a swim. Life is good.