LATER POST: Despite some rough moments earlier, a very nice evening. Kate had a review of Dante & Luigi's Corona del Ferro, (Crown of Iron?), allegedly Philadelphia's oldest Italian restaurant, so we all packed up and went there. A great place, out in little Italy somewhere and apparently near nothing at all, and had a tremendous meal. (WArning: no credit cards, though out of town checks were okay.)
Coming home, sharing a cab, me in the front seat with the driver.
"Where you from?"
"Tunisia. Do you know it?"
"Sure. I took my honeymoon in Sidi Bou."
"Sidi Bou Said?"
"Of course. And I've interviewed your President."
"Who?"
"Ben Ali."
"Ben Who?"
"Zine El Abidine Ben Ali. Ra'is al-Jumhuriyya. [President of the Republic.]"
"Oh., Ben al-LEE." [No Tunisian pronounces it that way, but Americans do.)
Next question from him: "Are you CIA?"
Anyway, another step in the messing-with-cabbies'- minds operation.
EARLIER POST:
As I write this Sarah and Tam are in the pool; I'm taking a break from proofreading to make note of the events of the day. We joined Kate for breakfast and then Brenda joined us as well and we went to see the Liberty Bell. (Kate had to be back at 2 for interviews and the earliest timed-entry
admission to Independence Hall was 2, so she'll have to catch that another time.) Then we took a carriage tour -- the slightly longer version than we'd taken last year, and with more sights -- and then had a nice colonial lunch at the City Tavern. Kate and Brenda had to leave, so Tam, Sarah and I made our way via an old-fashioned ice cream parlor and Elfreth's Alley, then a subway ride back to near our hotel. By this time Sarah was tired, my feet hurt, Sarah started complaining and we had a row. A blow-up. What in Egypt is called a dawsha, a "noise." We all eventually calmed down but it was a sign we had been pushing too hard. For all of us.
Anyway, this is an interlude before the evening's plans. More later if time per.
Coming home, sharing a cab, me in the front seat with the driver.
"Where you from?"
"Tunisia. Do you know it?"
"Sure. I took my honeymoon in Sidi Bou."
"Sidi Bou Said?"
"Of course. And I've interviewed your President."
"Who?"
"Ben Ali."
"Ben Who?"
"Zine El Abidine Ben Ali. Ra'is al-Jumhuriyya. [President of the Republic.]"
"Oh., Ben al-LEE." [No Tunisian pronounces it that way, but Americans do.)
Next question from him: "Are you CIA?"
Anyway, another step in the messing-with-cabbies'- minds operation.
EARLIER POST:
As I write this Sarah and Tam are in the pool; I'm taking a break from proofreading to make note of the events of the day. We joined Kate for breakfast and then Brenda joined us as well and we went to see the Liberty Bell. (Kate had to be back at 2 for interviews and the earliest timed-entry
admission to Independence Hall was 2, so she'll have to catch that another time.) Then we took a carriage tour -- the slightly longer version than we'd taken last year, and with more sights -- and then had a nice colonial lunch at the City Tavern. Kate and Brenda had to leave, so Tam, Sarah and I made our way via an old-fashioned ice cream parlor and Elfreth's Alley, then a subway ride back to near our hotel. By this time Sarah was tired, my feet hurt, Sarah started complaining and we had a row. A blow-up. What in Egypt is called a dawsha, a "noise." We all eventually calmed down but it was a sign we had been pushing too hard. For all of us.
Anyway, this is an interlude before the evening's plans. More later if time per.
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