Restaurant Fairuz

The plan was to spend this Thursday morning on the beach. The beach is about five minutes walking from our house and normally Rihanna Gaga really, really enjoys being there. She can play with her little bucket endlessly, walking fearlessly to the sea, filling it, returning to where we sit, splash the water over her other plastic beach toys and then repeat the whole thing.

Today, however, she's had enough of sand, sea and sun quite quickly. After about 45 minutes, she starts putting the plastic toys in my bag, waves bye bye to the sea and graps my hand. It's clearly time to leave, as far as she's concerned. I assume this is because of the wind - there's a rather strong wind today, and she hates that. Her hair is blown into her face, which she detests, and sand gets everywhere. So we walk to the corniche, where we discover a new restaurant.

And restaurant Fairuz is quite a discovery: I never realised that there is what turns out to be an excellent Lebanese restaurant right around the corner from where we live. I order a fellafel sandwich, which tastes so good that I order another one. Rihanna Gaga, meanwhile, is in a very good mood. As so often, she starts to move chairs around, plays with her dolls and charms everyone with a dazzling smile. She enjoys bits of my fellafel sandwich - at first she quite likes the fellafel itself, but then she's only interested in the tomatoes in the sandwich - and the strawberry juice I ordered for her. Then it turns out the waiter noticed her taste for tomatoes and he brings her a plate full of slices of them, much to her gratitude.

Indeed, it seems all eyes are on Rihanna Gaga. Groups of women try so persuade her to come to them - she won't - and a man comes to me to tell me to not let her walk around barefoot. I smile politely and tell him I can wash her feet when I come home. The reality is that Rihanna Gaga took off her shoes and would not, for anything in the world - let me put them back on. After a while, the man gives up to try and persuade me and walks away, after which he talks to the women who seem to be in complete agreement with him. I've gotten used to this by now: Tunisians telling me how to handle my child. In any case, it's time to leave: Rihanna Gaga's naptime is approaching. Back home, I not only wash her feet, but we take a bath together to rinse off the sand from the beach.