When “not spicy” burns a hole in your soul
In this personal everyday essay, I describe a typical experience from my life in Tunisia – triggered by food, but really about communication, pace, and cultural misunderstandings. This text is not a culinary report, but a subjective observation about how words, promises, and rhythms work differently here than in Switzerland.
I am sitting in my temporary apartment, waiting for the burning in my mouth and throat to subside.
‘Not spicy,’ Riadh said sincerely yesterday.
Well. Not spicy for him. For me, it was a full-body workout for tongue, lips, and esophagus.
Even now, the leftovers taste heavenly, still delicious cold. But the spiciness? Let’s just say the cheese fondue kid from Switzerland was once again put in her place.
And yes, I will get used to it. I have survived Tunisian kitchens before and will survive them again. That’s not what annoys me.
What annoys me is this kind of Tunisian communication that hits me every day.
Tunisians talk. A lot. They talk loudly. They talk fast. And they talk endlessly – let’s call it ‘airy poetry.’ No stupidity, no malice, just… the complete inability to put themselves in my shoes. They can’t, because they have never been in that situation.
So ‘not spicy’ is their truth. And my desire for water is mine.
Sometimes I wonder: Are they forgetful? Or do they simply enjoy the rhythm of words so much that accuracy becomes secondary?
Either way, I’ve stopped relying on statements like these:
- ‘Tomorrow at eleven.’
- “Yes, we are open this afternoon, just drop by.”
- “If you move, just take the furniture with you.”
Words like smoke. Promises like sand in the wind.
Just in Tunisia – communication in fast-forward
Fissa Fissa – life in fast-forward
What else you need to know: Tunisians live in fast-forward. Everything is fissa fissa.
Crossing the street? Forget leisurely Sunday strolls. Here you run like your life depends on it – because it does.
Day two on Tinder, and already a guy wants to meet at “La Sirène”? Mais oui. Why waste time with small talk?
In the meantime, I’m stuck in a language limbo: my jokes don’t land, my expressions stumble, and my brain juggles French, English, and Arabic all at once.
Everyday life in Tunisia – when words hold no commitment
Then a message comes in: “I’m near you, coffee?” and I panic.
Or take the apartment saga. I show someone a rental offer out of curiosity to see what they think. And suddenly there’s an appointment set in Tabarka. Did I want to move to Tabarka? No. Do I love Sousse? Yes. Did I manage to stop the avalanche? Absolutely not.
The Swiss in me can’t just say no. Instead, I set off to view a tiny apartment I never asked for. A ridiculous detour. Yet – a surprisingly funny side quest.
This is the rhythm here: invitations appear, appointments happen, words scatter like birds. If you resist, you sink into frustration. If you go along, you earn experience points.
So I adapt. My beta version is flawed, but I’m working on it. The graphics get sharper, the skins and meshes get polished. The NPCs can keep their crazy dialogue speed.
In the meantime, Zia + Luna continue to gain XP and level up day by day in this strange, loud, beautiful Tunisian sandbox.
- The text describes a personal everyday experience in Tunisia.
- The trigger is food, the theme is communication and rhythm.
- It is not about cooking, recipes, or language rules.
- The post reflects cultural differences without judgment.
- The text is a subjective snapshot.
