Everything we needed today - 18 March 2011
Friday, 18th March 2011
The hand is not doing well. Time for a doctor! I manage to find one, Dr. Varrant, who speaks English and call for an appointment. He says to be there by noon, which is 20 minutes from now. He is in Vence. This would take 20 minutes if you knew where you were going. We don’t. Joel insists on driving. I insist on screaming at him either to SLOW DOWN at roundabouts or GO FASTER on the straight-of way. In Vence we go around in several circles before locating Dr. Varrant’s street. We find underground parking, The width of the tunnel was made for an emaciated donkey. We bash in the entire right rear passenger side of the car and keep going. We are already 5 minutes late. Above ground we frantically search for the Doc’s building, enter the wrong one, exit, enter the right one. The sign says he’s on the third floor. In the elevator we press 3. It takes us to 9. Interesting. The building is only 3 stories tall. In Dr. Varrant’s surgery an assortment of ailing, coughing, rash-covered people await his cure. We get VIP treatment. Oh, says Dr. Varrant, zees eez uh beauteefool burn. He writes a prescription and instructions and sends us to the Pharmacy next door. Closed. Siesta time. I’m sorry, but f—k your siesta, buddy. I bang on the door holding up Joel's bandaged paw and the prescription and yell URGENCE in my best French accent. A sweet young man foregoes his lunch and lets us in.
And you know what?
We got everything we needed today, all in French!
That’s what I like about being a stranger in a strange land: You really learn how to communicate. Get right down to the basics. Love, it.
In the square the market is closing, but we manage to find an Egyptian selling Pecorino cheese from Pienza. He throws in a runny goat cheese for free. The last stall still open is manned – and I use that word seriously – by an aging hippie who actually does keep her money in the depths of her bra. She loads us up with apples, parsnips and satsumas and recommends the restaurant on the sunny side of the square for lunch. Once we have ordered, I do triage on Joel.
The sun is hot. The food is good. Our relief is enormous. The profiteroles are beyond beyond.
Stuffed and happy we wander into the old part of town and find some truffle chocolates which we will eat this evening, by the fire. They will render us speechless.