Doctor’s Who?

It is a known fact that the French women are regarded as the most chic, and probably the thinnest in Europe, don’t know why because they are forever eating bread and cheese. One of the teacher’s at the Institut (where I take language classes) looks like death, literally, that thing veiled in a cloak that haunted scrooge in a Christmas Carol, that’s what she looks like. I feel bad because she always smiles at me while puffing on a cigarette, boy these people like to smoke. But frankly, she scares me.

Later that same Friday, I laughed nervously as Jean-Pierre gave me directions and I crunched into 5th gear on the motorway. En route to Lyon, my first time on the motorway in France, I pondered….who am I going to kill today? Probably a good thing that Jean- Pierre was with me as I am not a very good driver even when I am driving on the left. Except for go-carting, I excel at running my friends off the track to gain first place.

We were going to pick up two of his interns, one from Syria and the other from Cote D’ivoire (Ivory Coast) from the hospital and as I was going out that night, the parents thought it best for me to drive into town so that I can stay later as the last bus leaves at 9pm (yes I live in the bush)! This was the trial run.

Mohamed was a round man not much taller than my 5”6 but he was friendly and gave me a warm handshake. Bienvenu, my brutha from another mutha, whom I expected to have shared some type of camaraderie being black an all, gave me a frigid smile and a cool handshake, he may as well as nodded his head as my brother sometimes does to me.

I didn’t like his outfit anyway, what kind of doctor wears tracksuit bottoms, and why did I think that they would be cute, I don’t do skinny anymore. ER is a myth, people like George Clooney are a very very fictional.

The warm afternoon sun stroked my back as we all sat gathered around the table in the expansive garden, I could get very used to this way of life I thought as Jeanne served up the grub. Bienvenu ate like a beast refusing to try the cheese and sniffed at the wine opting for the beer instead. An African like that, I cannot take.

Clearing the table with Janette, Bienvenu surprised me by taking some of the plates off me, he has a heart I thought, somewhere encased in ice at home perhaps. Either way, I was glad that he had not totally let me down and showed some appreciation for the hospitality.

The journey into Lyon was silent for the most part, I had opted to drop the interns into town and as we pulled into the parking lot we all started to loosen up, as if getting out of the car had given us some freedom of speech. The train ride was a lot better and Bienvenu even mocked me saying that French was easy, his thick accent made it hard for me to understand him at times but he didn’t tire of repeating himself. As we parted ways, we did the bise (kiss) as the French do and promised to all see each other again, but we all knew it was out of politeness.

Now, I had my hair did, heels on, leggings with a loose top cinched at the waist by a belt, tell me heads won’t turn tonight……………even if it is to say, what is she wearing?