Arriving in Tunisia – Week 2 in Kantaoui
In this personal report, I describe my second week after arriving in Tunisia – between traffic, everyday conflicts, boundary setting, and growing assertiveness. This text is not a guide but a subjective snapshot of what arriving in week two can feel like: louder, clearer, and more self-determined.
Small does not mean quiet: Luna finds her roar on the beach, I upgrade my street-crossing protocol on the Route Touristique, and a landlady wants me to finance her sofa. Heavy-metal life – too loud to be safe, too good to be boring.
Route Touristique (Bossfight Edition)
The Route Touristique is not a street. It is a final boss.
Four lanes of honking metal, a flowing traffic jam of at least 40 km/h on weekends. It cleanly splits Kantaoui into two parts:
My side: beach, apartment, cigarettes, dog food, baby cats.
Other side: water, supermarket, potential hairdresser, beautiful office chairs (how expensive, please?!), pharmacy.
No matter how much traffic there is – I have to cross.
Week 1: I wait politely and get a sunburn.
Week 2: I cheat. I stick 20 cm behind a local’s back, praying to Allah while bumpers flirt with my knees.
Week 3 (now): Assertiveness 2.0 – installed.
Crossing Protocol v2.0
- Walk straight ahead. Shoulders back, chin up. Don’t hesitate.
- Laser stare. The look that says: ‘I exist. I’m crossing now. You’ll manage.’
- Choose a slot. Like compiled code: the path is written, now execute.
- Optional Swiss German audio track (in case carbon or metal gets too close):
“Chuechichästli Fondue, you silly foot archer – brake now or explain to Allah why you just crushed a grandmother. Stop it.” - Commitment. No jumping, no sprinting – determined walking.
Result: The hell remains, but I am no longer prey. Boundaries in motion.
Real-Estate Follies: Sofa Series A
Yesterday: Truce by handshake with Dahmen – “everything in writing, we agree.”
Today: The owner wants two months’ rent in advance – to buy herself… a sofa.
I don’t rent apartments to finance furniture start-ups. Fuck-off mode activated. Immediate termination. It was never home – just a chapter.
Little Luna, Big Queenship
Blue hour at the beach. Salt in the air, four dogs, one man, two meters of leash – and me.
Riadh shows Luna how to set boundaries when three majestic beach dogs come a bit too close. No fight, more choreography: a magnetic little ballet of paws, sand, and backbone.
I watch my terrier shake off all the Swiss don’ts: don’t bark, don’t jump, don’t exist too loudly.
And here she is: barking, running, laughing, living. And my own backbone straightens with hers. We may bark. We may say No. We may be small and still take up space.
Mantra of the week: Small does not mean quiet.
Learnings from week 2
- Don’t wait for gaps – move like code being executed.
- Beware of landlords with Ikea catalogs.
- Street dogs are cheaper than therapy and sometimes better.
- Small doesn’t matter. Being audible is survival.
- The text describes my second week after arriving in Tunisia.
- The focus is on traffic, everyday conflicts, and personal boundary setting.
- Themes include assertiveness, housing, dog encounters, and self-assertion.
- It’s not about rules or instructions but about experiences.
- The post is a subjective snapshot of an early arrival phase.
