Fifth Journey Day 171: Sound of Cooling Metal

Date: October 26, 2025
Location: Djerba, Tunisia

On the island of Djerba in Tunisia, a clear Mediterranean morning set the tone: sun-heavy air, a soft coastal wind, fishing boats with chipped paint, and mint tea steaming at the water’s edge. The day carried the easy rhythms of island life—whitewashed walls, quiet harbors, and the salt-sweet scent that lingers on everything.

The Atmosphere of Khareef

There is no monsoon here, only a season of light that blurs edges like mist.

The first morning light here felt almost too bright — a kind of brightness that doesn't reveal but erases, softening the edges of things until they feel dreamlike. I sat by the sea and watched the water change color from blue to gray to a dull shade of yellow. The boats were chipped and unevenly painted, but they carried a quiet dignity. Their ropes were coiled like sleeping animals on the decks.

Quiet Moments at a Tea Stall

Later, I found a café near the water. The glass of mint tea was too hot to hold at first, and the air smelled sweet and like crushed leaves and salt. The spoon made a noise against the glass when the wind changed. Everything around me felt calm and relaxed. I could hear footsteps on the floor, chairs scraping against the ground, and a man adjusting the radio volume.

The Scent of Frankincense

Not frankincense today—Djerba offered mint, sea-salt air, and the faint sheen of oil from working boats.

Choosing Stillness Over Sketching

The afternoon went by like this — still, but not empty. I think I needed that quiet. The last few days in Tunisia were intense, but my mind felt muddled and full of noise, as if covered in sand that wouldn't come off. Today, I didn't try to make sense of anything. I just watched the light move across the floor. At one point, the reflection of the sea trembled on the café wall before disappearing.

A City in Sync with Rain

No rain came—only the sea’s patient weather, moving through metal, stone, and memory.

When I walked back to the guesthouse, the air felt cooler, and I could smell the sea and the motor oil. I thought about how water is both fragile and strong. It can change without breaking, and it can hold the world's reflection without keeping it. I wonder if painting is a kind of remembering that works the same way.

Travel Notes

• Weather: Clear, sun-heavy air with a soft coastal wind; 26°C. Light so bright it softened edges; evening cooled gently with a marine hush.
• Scents: Mint tea, crushed leaves, sea salt, and a faint trace of motor oil from the harbor.
• Sounds: Spoon against glass when the wind shifted, footsteps on tile, chairs scraping, a radio volume being nudged, and distant boatwork.
• Reflection: Water as fragile and strong at once—changing without breaking—much like painting as a way of remembering without holding.

Continue the Journey

You may also enjoy the harbor calm of Café Chronicles from Sidi Bou Said, or drift back to Tunis with Moonlit Oasis for another quiet night of reflection.