La Proue.
The villa leans out over the bay, like a ship that never quite agreed to dock.
There is the water here — the pool, perfectly still.
And the water out there — the bay, all glitter.
Between the two, the whole day hangs suspended.
The first coffee,
high above the bay.
The sea is still silver, the stone already warm. The tray settles at the water's edge — and the day waits politely for the last sip.
Breakfast orders · 8:30 – 12:00













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Lunch
at the water's edge.
When the weather is kind, Le Restô's kitchen leaves the dining room and settles outside. A glass of white, the day's menu, the lap of the pool a few steps away. Lunch takes its time.
The Tunisian
table.
On the seventh day, the prow speaks the language of the country: couscous steaming, dishes passed from hand to hand, long tables drifting deep into the afternoon. The week's standing appointment.
Then the sun slips low,
and the prow begins to glow.
One last glass at the water's edge, the bay set ablaze — and a few steps further on, Le Perchoir takes up the evening.
On to Le PerchoirA day
held in suspension.
Breakfast facing the sea, lunch at the water's edge, a Tunisian Sunday or simply the sun on your shoulders — the prow is waiting, from the first coffee to the last light.
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