Local Delicacies and Patriotic Cakes

I often go to a patisserie across the street from my Arabic school during our morning break. I do this because boredom makes me hungry and because I am very curious about the various delicacies on sale there. Besides the standard chocolate croissants and tuna-filled snack items, they sell a contraption I can describe only as a small plastic cup filled with crushed nuts and dreams. The other day I was examining said desert item and noticed that a Tunisian woman was standing next to me eating one. I asked her what on earth it was and she explained to me that it was something something something with honey. Since her response was in French, I only caught the last word, but I thanked her politely and walked away. And then she ran after me, caught me by the door and insisted I taste the sweet, with her very own fork no less! Thus can I report that it tasted nutty, honey-ey, and like kindness.

Yesterday I traveled south to Kairouan. This city is the 2009 capital of Islamic Civilization (a moving honor like the capital of the European Union) and boasts the fourth most holy mosque in Islam. In fact, some claim that seven trips to this mosque one pilgrimage to Mecca. The mosque is also the architectural inspiration of some of my favorite mosques in Cairo, although this is much older since this city was founded in the 7th century.



I tried my darndest to convince the guard to let my friend and I climb the minaret but was unsuccessful. Although I could see laborers working on the roof of the mosque, they did not answer when I knocked on the minaret's door (at the guard's suggestion, of course. He said that, had he the key, he would have let me in since I am "like his daughter.")

The columns of this mosque were all relocated from Roman buildings, mostly from Carthage if the tour guide information I overheard is to be believed. I hesitate to put much credence in what the guide was saying, however, since she explained the fact that one of the two Latin inscriptions on the minaret is upside-down by insisting that the Arabs could not read the text so they put the words both ways. This explanation makes it sound like the builders wanted to cover all their bases and figured one way must be correct - but this also means that one is automatically wrong. Who purposefully puts an upside-down inscription on their holy building?





The same guide also claimed that the stairs inside the minaret are made of Christian gravestones to symbolize Islam's conquest of Christianity. Since I was unable to sneak inside I cannot rubbish her statement with any photographic evidence, so you will have to take my word for it when I say that this idea is completely preposterous. I don't care how firmly you believe in the enmity between Christians and Muslims, nobody wants to rob graveyards and then walk on gravestones unless, perhaps, he is a vampire.



After touring the mosque, we headed what is called the "medina," or the bazaar area. This bazaar sells much of the same products to be found in Tunis, in Cairo, and everywhere for that matter, with a few glorious exceptions.



The tastiest exception was to be found in this lovely sweet shop where we sampled makhroud. Makhroud, in its most basic form, consists of dates breaded in semonlina and soaked in honey. The varieties get much more complicated and colorful that that basic description, with orange or chocolate flavoring and complicated swirls of color. I tasted one of the fancier types but settled on the standard sort since I am, above all, a purist.



The trip was a great success - I purchased a lovely carpet and my friend and I were asked by two, completely independent inquirers whether we are Syrian. Score!

That evening I went to the Ball. More specifically, this was a party celebrating the 234th anniversary of the founding of the Marines, if you believe what was written on the ticket, the "United Sates Marine Corps." (If you believe what was written on the ticket you would also be two hours early - in reality the party started at 7.30, not 17.30.)


The party took place in a tent erected outside a fancy hotel in Gammarth, near the coast and next to the city of Carthage. There was a full dinner, an open bar and an illuminated dance floor.

Before we took advantage of those amenities, we were treated to an hour-long ceremony during which the US Ambassador spoke, the Marines marched, various patriotic songs were played and the cake was cut. The emcee explained that the ceremonial cake is cut with a sword to emphasize that Marines are always warriors, even at birthday parties.


After dinner we were treated to the musical stylings of a phantom violinist. His electric violin had been stripped of its guts, and he wore a sparkly silver hat with his gold mask. I cannot blame a man for enjoying the finer points of metallics, however, since I was wearing my finest, shiny gold dress. We then took in a performance by a belly dancer and toasted America with imported beer.



Many revelers retired to the dance floor and a mysterious smokiness appeared out of nowhere, obscuring many of my photographs.



After taking in what some of the other guests were wearing, I felt positively under dressed. Women were in full ball gowns with enormously pointy stilettos. A few had styled their hair into remarkably complicated updos that seemed to defy gravity. Men had tuxedos and the members of the Armed Forces donned full dress uniform. Clearly the only remedy to my under-accessorized situation was to borrow a hat.

Before:


And after:



I think that the white compliments my outfit nicey, and the emblem (Eagle, Globe, Anchor) matches my dress.