You’re drinking tea in a dock-side cafe, and Nadine and Fabienne- the two Swiss-German girls you’re with- are catching the attention of the staff. The four of you were making self-deprecating jokes about cows and bad weather when the ice-cream vendor appeared at your table.

Fabienne looks at him blankly. He’s holding four of the peculiarly chewy Turkish ice-creams for you to take.

“We didn’t order anything.”

“It’s a present.” He says quickly, and then goes back to his stall.

The four of you eat the ice-cream in pensive silence. It’s not long before the ice-cream vendor is back again- this time, with two flowers snapped off a hanging basket.

Not to be outdone, the waiter arrives to slip Nadine his phone number.

Meanwhile, the other waiters shoo away the stray cats using water pistols. The warm, fuzzy mass that has just settled by your leg tells you that the practice isn’t particularly effective.