In the morning, I take Gerd in my arms and ask him how his love for me is and whether this love can survive minor or major shocks or deviations. Drowsy and not knowing what was coming, he answered my question in the affirmative.
That's it. I turn around, smile and look deep into my steaming coffee cup. This makes him suspicious. "Duhhhuuu, why did you ask that?" "Oh, just because!"
I casually mention that we are now on the Roman-ancient "pleasure road" and that Sbeitla and Makhta are only the beginning of a wonderful stretch. He suspects what is coming now and resigns himself to his fate. "Okay, let's do it quickly then, maybe we'll manage something ancient today".
No sooner said than done: we navigate Felix to El Kef.
In the Museum of Folk Art and Tradition we get a small private tour. We marvel at wedding dresses and antique jewellery. We immerse ourselves in the craftsmanship and because the guide really knows his trade, he keeps explaining details from the Koran. How it is with women and men, why only the tourists say Fatima's hand and the Muslims actually only say hand.
The Arabic name comes from the five fingers of the open palm. The number five itself can have a protective function or be used as a threat, the curse chamsa fi aïnek ("five in your eye") can at the same time avert the evil eye.
Since Hammamet, we have brought the "hand", of course! We take all the protection there is with us.
Strictly speaking, Felix is now already a huge protective prop transport. Better safe than sorry, right?
We stroll further through the medina, reach the Ottoman Kasbah (an old fortress high above the city), ask to be let in and get it. Again we are alone. Our friendly door opener notices our curiosity and shows us the most important corners of the fortress. Aha, military here. Military there. Here a raid, there a raid.
Since you can see all the way to the Algerian border from here, the view was naturally used for defence. Times by the Ottomans, the Germans were also here, the French. And probably a few other conquerors.
Mohammed, our door opener, fumbles with a giant rusty key and opens a bent, locked door. He gives it another kick and invites us to enter the dilapidated, unrestored part of the fortress. Attention, not this way, danger of collapse, but yes, you can walk here! Attention, the stairs no longer have all the steps, please be careful!
He seems to know a lot about the history of the fortress and talks endlessly. Gerd can't keep up with the translations and at some point my interest in military history wanes. Only when he tells me that there is always a jazz festival up here in the summer do I get back into it.
In the medina we settle down for a coffee, the local cats do a good job and join us. They let us cuddle them and do an excellent job as tourists.
What a beautiful ending in El Kef.
Merci for "travelling with us
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