http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php en Sun, 07 Sep 2008 22:43:13 GMT vBulletin 10 http://forum.tunisia.com/images/misc/rss.jpg http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php?b=23 Fri, 08 Aug 2008 21:40:46 GMT Had a look around at some pedalos and jet skis for sale. New Jet Skis are cost around 14,000 dinars and you can find older ones for 5000 dinars as against new pedalos which are around 2200 dinars. We visited a guy who repairs pedalos and he had quite a few smaller ones for sale but knew of someone else with a larger one. So went to see the bigger one and bought it. Beautiful condition apart from a small hole underneath – yes that’s right – we bought a pedalo with a hole in it!!! Chocolate teapot sprang to mind! The repair man said he’d come and fix it in the morning which he did.

So pedalo, affectionately nicknamed ‘Titanic’ was launched – didn’t bother to break the bottle of champagne against it – decided to keep that for another occasion!

It’s been working well and is great fun and we now have an anchor for going out fishing and a whistle to warn the odd swimmer that we are nearby.

I was happily people watching on the beach and ‘couldn’t help’ noticing some Algerian guys close by. Usually, Tunisian men wear brightly coloured and/or heavily patterned long shorts or short longs, whatever they are called and many look as though they have dressed in the dark. These three must have been body builders – one of them was a definite ‘V’ shape and all three were very muscular and wearing the tiniest Speedos. Really unusual to see these days. The three were all ‘working out’ and ‘flexing’ their 6 packs at the water’s edge. I wasn’t that interested (!!) so when I was asked to go out on the pedalo, I readily agreed.

We set sail into the sunset and I was in one of the back seats as usual – relaxing catching a few rays. Two other Tunisian friends were with us.

We set off and the hot air balloon at Menchia Beach became smaller and smaller, they pedalled until it was the size of a 20p piece. I have to say at this point that I cannot swim and that thought was going through my mind on a regular basis. Plus, last night, I had watched a film about a party of friends stuck in the sea – they had all jumped in and no-one noticed that the stairs hadn’t been fixed in place so no-one could get back on board and one by one they all drowned or were eaten by sharks!!

We reached a point where we saw a large yellow plastic Javel (bleach) bottle tied to a line. Curiosity, naturally, overtook my fellow passengers and after pulling at this rope which was covered in sea grass, sea weed, bits of shell and sponges they found the first pot. I thought at first it was for lobsters but on careful examination - that is, when they emptied it next to me (into the little dipped bit where the steering column is between the 2 back seats) - out fell an octopus!

They said it was an octopus, not sure though, could have been a squid – couldn’t count the tentacles as it kept moving - towards me - as if I could help it, and I was freaking out at the thought of this octopus writhing and slithering towards me and attaching itself to me – they assured me that it wouldn’t ‘do’ anything but I knew already that some octopuses inject poison that causes paralyses into their victims. It just wanted to escape and by this time so did I - I was thinking should I take my chances in the ‘deep’ – then I thought ‘where there’s a baby, there is bound to be a much bigger parent!’ so I decided to stay, rigid, in fact white knuckled until one of the guys managed to grab this poor creature but every time he did, it suckered itself onto another part of the pedalo – I’ll never forget the noise of the suckers as he continually tried to prise it from the plastic. He then killed it and it lay in the puddle of grey/black sand that it had been hiding in. I wasn't convinced it was dead as the motion of the pedalo and the water made it's tentacles move about a bit.

There was no stopping these Tunisians now! Absolutely delighted with their find, they decided to follow the rope along and check out every pot attached to the line. As they emptied each one, we were splashed and covered with this greyish/black sand, bits of seaweed, dead crabs, etc. Thankfully, every other pot was empty. I couldn’t wait to get back to shore and never took my eyes from ‘our catch’ until we got there – just in case!

The octo/squid had been boiled before I had the chance to count the tentacles and is now in the fridge ready for tomorrow’s seafood salad. Think I’ll pass on that one!

From now on, I will people watch on the beach and leave the treasures of the deep exactly where they should be! ]]> Essem http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php?b=23 http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php?b=22 Fri, 08 Aug 2008 19:59:22 GMT During July & August in Tunisia the beaches are full of Tunisian families and from my 6th floor balcony the multitude of parasols look like multicoloured mushrooms. Apart from the striped and floral ones, there is the red of Coca Cola, the gold and white of Thomson’s Gold, the blue and white of Tunisie Telecom, the Fanta yellows and oranges and the dark green Sprite. There is also the odd motorbike or bicycle parked under them too.

The jet skis are criss-crossing with the motor boats pulling the giant coloured parachutes, the pirate ships are cruising backwards and forwards and you can hear the laughter and screams of the passengers from the ‘banana’ as they are thrown into the sea on a quick turn.

It’s great to see families spending real time together - to hear the little children absolutely squealing with delight, laughing and playing in and out of the sea and on the sand has to be one of the best sounds in the world. No expensive toys or games just enjoying natural resources.

At the water’s edge, I stopped to chat to a Tunisian gran who was dipping her gorgeous little granddaughter, Israe, in and out of the water. By chatting, I mean my pigeon Arabic and French and lots of hand movements – think that’s Italian! Israe, who is 10 months and the most beautiful of babies, wasn’t too sure about all this wet stuff. Israe’s mum and aunt came over and we were soon exchanging information on where we were all from. People here are not that familiar with Scotland - you are either English or from Britain or England except in the few cases where people have heard of Scotch whisky! They were from Kalaa Seghira.

We had been waiting for a pedalo to free up (had been thinking about buying an exercise bike at Carrefour but then didn’t, so thought this might be a good way to do some exercise – but after 5 minutes of pedalling got a stitch in my right side (who says that exercise is good for your health?) so delighted not to have spent money on something that would end up lying in the cupboard (in Scotland my attic is full of gym and exercise stuff all bought with the best of intentions!) Anyway, I asked the baby’s aunt, Ziuneb – a lovely young Tunisian girl with beautiful long hair, wonderful smile & and gentle personality and who looked about 12 years old but was actually 19) if she wanted to come too.

I’d only known her for 5 minutes and, after consulting with her family, she climbed up on board and we pedalled into the horizon - it was only really a few hundred yards as I can’t swim and although Ziuneb swims she wasn’t keen on really deep water. So we chatted and when we got back her sister and her husband (parents of Israe) chatted some more. They had the dark green Sprite parasol, you know the ones, with different patterned sheets held together with clothes pegs, acting like a bit of a shelter, giving it a tent effect. Ziuneb’s mum, like all of the other Tunisian women in their own separate ‘tents’, had been preparing lunch whilst we were at sea.

This was not just a tuna/mayo sandwich and can of coke but traditional full meals followed by fresh tea cooked on the canoon. And these women know how to cook and cope in the most basic of cir***stances - not a grain of sand in anything! From freshly made baguettes stuffed with all sorts of wonderful fillings to pastas and fresh fruit. I’d already eaten but they insisted that I have at least 2 apples anyway.

By this time, Israe was dried off and dressed in a stunning orange coloured outfit which complimented her dark brown eyes and her shortish jet black hair which was pulled up into one little pigtail on top of her head. She had found her voice and was shouting at some boys playing volleyball nearby – think she wanted to join in.

PS don’t you just hate it when some of the guys make that awful walrus/elephant type sound in the water – every day there is one- how do they do that?? And why?

And don’t you just hate it when some of these people just throw their litter on the beach although there are bins within yards – I actually saw a tourist from the hotel next door go along the beach lifting empty cans, bottles, etc. in an attempt to tidy the small stretch of public beach – shocking!

PPS like d the idea of a pedalo so decided to buy one…………………… ]]> Essem http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php?b=22 http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php?b=20 Sat, 21 Jun 2008 20:46:51 GMT Job Hunting in Tunisia Do you ever Google information or people? I do it as a matter of course – it’s amazing how much information is out there in cyberspace about each and every one of us! I always wanted to live in the sun, next to the sea but found that when my dreams were realised there were certain times, for example, the winter months when the weather isn’t really for sunbathing, I’d become a bit bored and start looking for things to do. I’d spend my time travelling within Tunisia, visiting and revisiting other resorts and towns. My thoughts were that if I did find something I liked doing here in Tunisia, I would retire fully from my business in the UK and instead of going back and forth like a fiddler’s elbow - a job here would allow me to stay for longer chunks of time. I saw this tempting ad for Admin and Sales staff advertised with a contact phone number that didn’t exist. Anyone going for a job interview will try to find out as much about the company as possible so I Googled the name on the ad and it came up with a property company in East London with an overseas section consisting of 3 properties – 2 in Islamabad and one in France. I assumed it was selling property and I was a little disappointed because to be an agent to sell property in Tunisia, you have to be licensed and that’s quite a lengthy process. But they were also looking for administration staff so perhaps there might be an opening there. The company concerned must have quickly realised that the phone number was incorrect and they then posted an email address. I sent off my email and almost immediately I received a reply saying that they were based in Sousse, the correct phone number, asking me to call them and they would return my call. I phoned and spoke to the gent whose name was in the ad and he asked me what I was doing that minute and asked me if I could come immediately to the Sun Palace Hotel in Khezema, Sousse to meet him. I was in the middle of a breakfast meeting with a fresh croissant and delicious café creme in Café la Noisette, my local café - now with wi-fi connection for all those lap toppers – and wasn’t quite finished but I thought wonderful – I could have a new career by the end of the day so quickly finished ‘the meeting’ and not wanting to appear too keen, waited half an hour and then drove along to the hotel, went inside and asked reception for this guy. One of is colleagues was there waiting an he said he was from Coventry but everyone was speaking to him! Then Mr W, who spoke with a Geordie accent and looked a bit like Nick Nolte (actor) with specs, appeared and we sat down for the ‘interview’. Charming man who told me that his company had taken over the top floor of the hotel and that by the weekend his British line of 17 would be flying out to meet up with the others. He had lines coming in from Italy and France too. They had worked in Goa recently and in fact, had worked all over the world. I asked if it was the dreaded ‘T’ word – timeshare - as a lot of what he was saying was timeshare speak. He said no but added that his background and that of all of his colleagues were ex timeshare. He had worked in timeshare in Tenerife with some of his colleagues in fact, I reminded him of a lady they lovingly called Aunty Margaret who worked with them in Spain and made a fortune – I was just like her! I own timeshare in Spain (bought from a friend) and Florida (birthday gift) and have first hand knowledge of how it works, after having set up an admin department for a local company years ago. Mr W became quite defensive and launched into a whole lot of unnecessary facts and statistics about the timeshare industry now. I asked what exactly this business was all about, was it selling property and why Tunisia? He said Tunisia because no one had marketed ‘it’ before and the business was not selling property but selling memberships to an exclusive members club or investor’s club. He seemed taken off guard a bit and uncomfortable (twitched a bit, crossed his legs and looked up to the left) when I asked if it was connected to the property business in London but he replied that that was only a sideline. For this exclusive club, the clients buy in at different levels of membership and then they can holiday in fantastic hotels in wonderful destinations worldwide. Every morning there would be a staff meeting at 9.15 am and if you didn’t attend, you wouldn’t have a job; long hours – working till sometimes 10 pm at night; only women could work in the ‘office’ - no men, - he said he knew it was ***ist but there would be fewer problems that way. Long hours with great earning potential. His French ‘team leader’, Pierre, arrived and spoke in very hurried French because he had been out jogging – if I’d been out jogging (as if), I’d be so out of breath, I wouldn’t be able to speak for an hour! He said that French people were the most difficult to sell to because they always wanted all the facts – and the Scots don’t – aye right! . If you spoke more than one language, you could work on any of the ‘lines’ pertaining to your linguistic skills (more timeshare speak). Flexibility or multi tasking I think it’s called! So how did he find his clients to become members of this exclusive investor’s club? Well the teams of reps, like me, would trawl the beaches, streets, cafes, hotels from morning to night, start chatting to people and invite them to come along to the hotel for a FREE presentation and a FREE gift. I said I thought that sounded a bit like timeshare touting to me. If the clients bought into this system, once they paid this company and funds cleared, the rep would get paid. They hadn’t realised how difficult it was to set up bank accounts here so at that point local accounts weren’t in place yet! I could only work in something that I really believed in and knew within a minute of meeting this guy that it wasn’t for me but went through the motions regardless. I don’t mind the locals on the beaches here trying to sell me fruit, jewellery or carpets (I’ve bought a couple!) or even the jasmine and flower sellers on the streets and in restaurants but I would hate to think that I couldn’t walk along the beaches or streets here in Tunisia now without being accosted by some ‘tout’ trying to entice people to a tired looking hotel for a free gift and possible some high pressure selling tactics to part with their cash. Surely it couldn’t happen here! He tried to ‘close me down’ to make a decision. I ‘leaked at the back end’ (lied at the end of the conversation) said that I’d think about it but I really didn’t want to work such long hours, and just before leaving, I asked him how he managed to obtain his commercial license to trade in Tunisia. Every foreign company who wants to trade in Tunisia must be registered, licensed and hold a commercial card here or they are breaking the law and working illegally. He winked, twitched a bit, crossed his legs looked up to the left and said he’d sent someone down in advance ‘who sorted it out’ with a back hander type action. Aye right! I thanked him for his time and left for my lunchtime meeting at Noisette. Job Hunting in Tunisia

Do you ever Google information or people? I do it as a matter of course – it’s amazing how much information is out there in cyberspace about each and every one of us!

I always wanted to live in the sun, next to the sea but found that when my dreams were realised there were certain times, for example, the winter months when the weather isn’t really for sunbathing, I’d become a bit bored and start looking for things to do. I’d spend my time travelling within Tunisia, visiting and revisiting other resorts and towns. My thoughts were that if I did find something I liked doing here in Tunisia, I would retire fully from my business in the UK and instead of going back and forth like a fiddler’s elbow - a job here would allow me to stay for longer chunks of time.

I saw this tempting ad for Admin and Sales staff advertised with a contact phone number that didn’t exist. Anyone going for a job interview will try to find out as much about the company as possible so I Googled the name on the ad and it came up with a property company in East London with an overseas section consisting of 3 properties – 2 in Islamabad and one in France. I assumed it was selling property and I was a little disappointed because to be an agent to sell property in Tunisia, you have to be licensed and that’s quite a lengthy process. But they were also looking for administration staff so perhaps there might be an opening there.

The company concerned must have quickly realised that the phone number was incorrect and they then posted an email address. I sent off my email and almost immediately I received a reply saying that they were based in Sousse, the correct phone number, asking me to call them and they would return my call.

I phoned and spoke to the gent whose name was in the ad and he asked me what I was doing that minute and asked me if I could come immediately to the Sun Palace Hotel in Khezema, Sousse to meet him. I was in the middle of a breakfast meeting with a fresh croissant and delicious café creme in Café la Noisette, my local café - now with wi-fi connection for all those lap toppers – and wasn’t quite finished but I thought wonderful – I could have a new career by the end of the day so quickly finished ‘the meeting’ and not wanting to appear too keen, waited half an hour and then drove along to the hotel, went inside and asked reception for this guy.

One of is colleagues was there waiting an he said he was from Coventry but everyone was speaking to him! Then Mr W, who spoke with a Geordie accent and looked a bit like Nick Nolte (actor) with specs, appeared and we sat down for the ‘interview’. Charming man who told me that his company had taken over the top floor of the hotel and that by the weekend his British line of 17 would be flying out to meet up with the others. He had lines coming in from Italy and France too. They had worked in Goa recently and in fact, had worked all over the world.

I asked if it was the dreaded ‘T’ word – timeshare - as a lot of what he was saying was timeshare speak. He said no but added that his background and that of all of his colleagues were ex timeshare. He had worked in timeshare in Tenerife with some of his colleagues in fact, I reminded him of a lady they lovingly called Aunty Margaret who worked with them in Spain and made a fortune – I was just like her!

I own timeshare in Spain (bought from a friend) and Florida (birthday gift) and have first hand knowledge of how it works, after having set up an admin department for a local company years ago. Mr W became quite defensive and launched into a whole lot of unnecessary facts and statistics about the timeshare industry now.

I asked what exactly this business was all about, was it selling property and why Tunisia? He said Tunisia because no one had marketed ‘it’ before and the business was not selling property but selling memberships to an exclusive members club or investor’s club. He seemed taken off guard a bit and uncomfortable (twitched a bit, crossed his legs and looked up to the left) when I asked if it was connected to the property business in London but he replied that that was only a sideline.

For this exclusive club, the clients buy in at different levels of membership and then they can holiday in fantastic hotels in wonderful destinations worldwide.

Every morning there would be a staff meeting at 9.15 am and if you didn’t attend, you wouldn’t have a job; long hours – working till sometimes 10 pm at night; only women could work in the ‘office’ - no men, - he said he knew it was ***ist but there would be fewer problems that way. Long hours with great earning potential.

His French ‘team leader’, Pierre, arrived and spoke in very hurried French because he had been out jogging – if I’d been out jogging (as if), I’d be so out of breath, I wouldn’t be able to speak for an hour! He said that French people were the most difficult to sell to because they always wanted all the facts – and the Scots don’t – aye right! . If you spoke more than one language, you could work on any of the ‘lines’ pertaining to your linguistic skills (more timeshare speak). Flexibility or multi tasking I think it’s called!

So how did he find his clients to become members of this exclusive investor’s club? Well the teams of reps, like me, would trawl the beaches, streets, cafes, hotels from morning to night, start chatting to people and invite them to come along to the hotel for a FREE presentation and a FREE gift. I said I thought that sounded a bit like timeshare touting to me.

If the clients bought into this system, once they paid this company and funds cleared, the rep would get paid. They hadn’t realised how difficult it was to set up bank accounts here so at that point local accounts weren’t in place yet!

I could only work in something that I really believed in and knew within a minute of meeting this guy that it wasn’t for me but went through the motions regardless. I don’t mind the locals on the beaches here trying to sell me fruit, jewellery or carpets (I’ve bought a couple!) or even the jasmine and flower sellers on the streets and in restaurants but I would hate to think that I couldn’t walk along the beaches or streets here in Tunisia now without being accosted by some ‘tout’ trying to entice people to a tired looking hotel for a free gift and possible some high pressure selling tactics to part with their cash. Surely it couldn’t happen here!

He tried to ‘close me down’ to make a decision. I ‘leaked at the back end’ (lied at the end of the conversation) said that I’d think about it but I really didn’t want to work such long hours, and just before leaving, I asked him how he managed to obtain his commercial license to trade in Tunisia. Every foreign company who wants to trade in Tunisia must be registered, licensed and hold a commercial card here or they are breaking the law and working illegally. He winked, twitched a bit, crossed his legs looked up to the left and said he’d sent someone down in advance ‘who sorted it out’ with a back hander type action. Aye right!

I thanked him for his time and left for my lunchtime meeting at Noisette. ]]> Essem http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php?b=20 http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php?b=19 Mon, 16 Jun 2008 22:18:05 GMT Driving in Tunisia & the AA

When I arrived this time, I thought I’d upgrade my regular Sony TV to one of those wall mounted, flat screen, LCD, all singing & dancing ones. The shop owner I deal with said they had a super deal on a 32 “ Mega Star TV – only 1000 dinars and 3 years guarantee but if I wanted the 42” one it would be 2299 dinars with 1 year guarantee. He didn’t have the 42” in stock so phoned a friend or was it a cousin, uncle or brother as they do, and gave me directions to go to this other shop at the back of Hammam Sousse.

It was about 8pm so I decided to try to see this one and make a decision before dinner. I arrived at the shop and, quel surprise, it was the wrong one but, after a couple of phone calls, I eventually found the correct one. Parking was horrendous as this main street was so tight but I parked carefully tucking in my wing mirrors – both sides – you never know who is going to overtake on the inside with a bicycle, moped, motorcycle.

(Don’t you just love the ‘rocket men’ as my daughter calls them – the ones with the helmets who weave their motorcycles in and out of the traffic – looking as if they’ve just been fired from a canon! At one roundabout, a Vespa drive cut me off and he was clearly in the wrong lane. I was told that, if I’d hit him, he would have been ‘faulty’ (meaning - at fault) – I dare say he would have been more than faulty if I had hit him!)

Unfortunately, this guy in the shop didn’t have the Mega Star, mega deal, TV only a much more expensive one. About 3 years ago, this shop was advertising a huge Plasma TV for 9900 dinars and just a few minutes away around the corner, the local butcher had a cow tethered outside his shop on the pavement and was advertising fresh meat the following Tuesday when the poor beast would be slaughtered (imagine Tesco’s trying that one!) How modern and traditional lives mix well here!

I left and started to drive down the narrowest of narrow streets. One of those ones where you can reach across from one door and touch your neighbour’s door on the opposite side. My car started then cut off. Tried it again several times but it just kept cutting out. Oops! What to do? This was the narrowest street on fairly steep incline. So I freewheeled it down, taking care not to hit any of the passing mopeds, bikes, women with prams and children who were coming from behind me as well as towards me. I imagined it to be like one of those video games only I was trying to miss instead of hit the targets.

So after rolling it down hill and parking in the first available safe space, I phoned the cavalry, a friend who lives nearby. Was sitting waiting to be rescued when in my mirror caught a glimpse of two hands on the spoiler – but the body had disappeared under the back of the car and I thought to myself that was quick – my friends are obviously checking things out or someone is trying to help by looking underneath although I was sure it was either an electrical fault or something had disconnected somewhere in the engine – at the front! Within a minute, a child’s face appeared in line with the hands. It was a little local girl who’d decided to have a swing on the spoiler whilst I was parked there! Her mum saw her at the same time as I did and shouted for her to move away which she did - rapidly!

So friends arrived with one of those massive Suzuki trucks and said they’d tow me home. I said that I was in the AA and they would come out and tow me to the Peugeot Garage in Sousse. “Not at all, we’ll tow you” they said. There are some situations where you just have to agree, albeit unwillingly, after all I’d called them for help. They took out the tow rope which was a plastic washing line and I commented that it wouldn’t hold. I was told that it would because they would double it over – twice!! OK!

So we set off precariously towards Hammam Sousse, where the big clock used to be when we had traffic lights there. Now we have a roundabout – unsure if they are going to replace the clock. Twice the rope snapped and then a louage tried to cut in between the Suzuki truck towing my car - and the rope snapped again on the roundabout across from the police station. Enough! We pushed the car into the petrol garage there and I insisted that we call the AA who they said they’d be there within 40 minutes.

Up went the bonnet of the car and everyone, garage staff, people in buying petrol et al were having a good look at my engine although by this time it was darkish. There were lots of hands on chins humming and hawing and throwing in their opinions. Then someone said could it not be the key, it had to be the key and asked if I had a spare one!! I’m no motor mechanic and said naturally I have a spare key but how could it be anything to do with the key as the engine was turning over then cutting out! So there was more rubbing of chins and another debate with all looking into this engine in the dark as if magically the fault would jump out and become apparent to everyone.

True to their word, within about 40 minutes the AA arrived and of course, everyone had to tell the guy what they thought was wrong and he was only interested in towing the car to my local garage. So into the tow truck and off to the garage where we left it under the care of the watchful guardian. This garage is absolutely brilliant and really look after their clients well. In fact, when we arrived one of the owners was just about to leave for the evening and he made sure that everything that had to be done was done and assured me that I’d have it back next morning.

By this time I could have eaten a sheep’s head (not even if my life depended on it – I’d just have to die) - have you noticed that Tunisians will eat delicacies like that but won’t eat the skin from a baked potato – bizarre! So got a lift back to Restaurant Le Delicieux in Hamman Sousse, about a minute from where the breakdown lorry picked me up, to have a wonderful late supper around 10.30pm. I asked for a 4 season pizza and said to leave out the salami. So Zied, the waiter, said OK no salami, it’s a 3 seasons pizza. Then he said he didn’t have any mushrooms so I ended up with a 2 seasons pizza – only in Tunisia!!! Then home by taxi and of course the driver told me what he thought the fault in the car could possible be!

Next morning, as promised, garage phoned to say the fuel pump had broken, it had been replaces and the car was ready to be picked up or did I want them to bring it to me - cost 280 dinars. My thanks to Peugeot Sousse and Africa Assistance – fantastic service always from both.

I have since bought a proper tow rope. Never did buy the Mega Star mega deal TV though – but am going to drive up to Carrefour in Tunis this week to have a look around there. But that’s another blog!........................... ]]> Essem http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php?b=19 http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php?b=18 Fri, 13 Jun 2008 21:41:59 GMT Sounds like a recipe ……… for disaster …………..or success!!

When I bought my apartmentin Tunisia almost 4 years ago, the building was painted in a pale yellow colour. The painters made the colour up with basic white and adding a coloured tint so it was difficult to match for touching up so I decided to change to white as it was easier to touch up or re paint if it flaked or was damaged and I could do it myself as and when.

The white was more serviceable but the glare from the white was incredible – apparently the higher the altitude, the more intense the UV rays are and some days my eyes would be blood shot and teary (no wine was consumed) – a condition almost like snow blindness because of the intense glare. I’ve had ‘Panda eyes’ many a day – but decided against wearing snow goggles on the balcony.
Living on the beach has its drawbacks – the elements can be quite severe.
Lots of sand and salt in the air – my iron railings around the terraces have to be painted at least 3 times a year (Forth Road Bridge stuff) and I’ve just had to have the holes in them filled before painting (they use car bodywork repair product!). The painters had actually painted the railings and left the holes open so now that they have been filled, they are being repainted and look whole again! I’ll eventually have to replace the iron with coated aluminium as the iron is corroding at a rate of knots.
High winds in winter and summer breezes when my carpets (airing over the wall – tradition here) and outside furniture have been seen hurtling over the walls (most of it retrieved depending on how it lands as to whether I keep it or not!). One of the benefits is that washing is dried in no time!
The sun lifts the colour out of anything exposed to it for any length of time and I’ve recently had black out curtains made to protect other furnishings inside from fading.

When I moved in, I invested in a beautiful bright yellow swinging hammock but after one year had to give it away as it nearly went over the balcony a few times – was worried in case it might hit someone walking below – imagine the headlines! Flying carpets yes, flying swinging hammocks - no-one would believe it!

The other ‘investment’ was one of those huge parasols with the heavy metal stand to anchor it down – even with 8 marble tiles weighing it down further, it still managed to move across the terrace or fall down completely. It has now been dismantled and lives in the cupboard.
As the second building behind was reaching completion, the developer said he wanted to repaint the first building so that the two were matching - the colours to be cream and salmon (I reckon any salmon this colour had to have been really ill or dead for a few weeks). I’d been watching the new apartments taking shape and wasn’t too keen on the mustard and saffron colours they were using. But the painters, climbing the scaffolding like mountain goats often in bare feet and balancing on planks of wood hanging over the 6th floor (is there health & safety here?), convinced me that it would look great!
The following morning, I heard what only could be described as lots wax strips being removed but no screams only singing! The painters had arrived and were using copious amounts of Scotch tape to make borders & frames around the walls, doors and windows. And they were not just painting, they were applying Graffiato, a wall coating (thinner version of artex) in the two colours – custard and burnt orange – and in two designs – straight or circular – I have both!! So for the best part of a week, they have been here – I’d be sitting in the sun and all of a sudden a face would appear through the balcony railings, or some Graffiato being slapped on the walls of my downstairs neighbour, would fly across the terrace. Another couple of days should see it finished! Inshallah.

For anyone interested in Graffiato - described as being an effective, long wearing, protective coating - it’s made by ……………Durex! ]]> Essem http://forum.tunisia.com/blog.php?b=18