Café Belkadhi

It's the last day of our short stay in the Medina, and before we're taking the taxi back to Sidi Bou Said, we're going through the alleys one last time for breakfast and some shopping. Rihanna Gaga has picked up a taste for Tunisian dresses, and my partner, too, wants to see if she can buy a few. I am interested in some keffiyas, as I noticed some with pretty colours. But first, breakfast. We walk down Rue Sidi Ben Arous - Billie Stormzy already has memorised the names of quite a few streets around where we are staying, and this is a favourite one - where there are now more cafés than I remember. After some deliberation, we settle for Café Belkadhi, and attractive looking, renovated Medina house, with lots of mosaiks and funky art on the walls. 

Before we can have breakfast, however, I have to take care of Rihanna Gaga. She has been complaining loudly ever since she hurt her hand when she decided - for very unclear reasons - to grab the large iron door knocker on the massive door of our bed and breakfast, hang from it with her full weight when we were closing that door, and the friction then caused some of the skin of her inner hand to peel off. I take her with me to look for pharmacy, or at least a place where they sell band-aids. Unfortunately, we find neither.

Back at Café Belkadhi, my partner has ordered coffee and chocolate buns, and strawberry juice for the kids. We settle at a table right in front of the café's entrance, but a friendly waiter tells us to move to the other side - apparently, he is afraid we'll be blocking the alley too much with the entire family sitting here. Billie Stormzy walks off, telling us he wants to go and have a look at the numbers. He's been fascinated by walls in Tunisia - there are quite a few of them - with rectangles painted on them, each rectangle containing a number. These are meant for elections: one rectange for each party or candidate. Rihanna Gaga asks for her book and starts reading. She's been reading a lot during this holiday. Normally too busy playing with friends, she is not an avid reader (although she certainly enjoys reading books), but now she has more time on her hands and is really going at it. It probably helps this is a very good book, a gift from her grandmother who was told by the bookseller this was a guaranteed hit. It's a story of a boy with an imaginary friend that is actually real, but the boy ends up in a mental ward because people do not believe him. I'm somewhat ambivalent towards what seems to be an implied strong anti-psychiatry message in the story, but a good book is a good book - and judging by the extent  Rihanna Gaga is engrossed in the story, this is certainly one. 

Billie Stormzy returns, climbs on my lap and starts munching on his chocolate roll. A place like this is ideal for people watching: café Dribat has an inside, but most people sit outside, on chairs and tables scattered in front of it on both sides of rue Sidi Ben Arouf, while there is a constant stream of people coming and going along that street, which leads towards one of the main arteries of the Medina. There are a lot of flies, and Billie Stormzy is slightly bothered by them, protesting loudly whenever one settles on his hand or arm. It's been a quiet morning. In the bed and breakfast, the kids have their own room, which meant my partner and I could sleep a bit longer. The kids, meanwhile, kept each other entertained. They sang songs together, after which his big sister read books to Billie Stormzy.

We're finished with our buns and drinks: it is time to go shopping. I put Billie Stormzy on my shoulders, which he lets me do without complaining. My daughter takes my partner's hand and we're off to the heart of the Medina.