Feeling French

Ahhh, the Jamaican anthem; it sounds so great, especially when it's ringing out from loudspeakers at a major international track and field meet.

It's always good to see our athletes on the podium, especially when they are the ones singing the anthem that is being played. Congrats again to Federick Dacres on his discus gold medal and the joy he must have experienced while hearing our anthem being played in the stadium.

Being the only Jamaican journalist, I was also flung into the spotlight. Getting a few handshakes, hugs and even interviews; all centred around Dacres' accomplishment.

It brought me back to a few months ago and a particular event that saw me coming out as a gold medallist. I know that Mr Jermaine Brown from a particular television station back home will not be too happy with me telling this story, but I must, the people need to know!

'Twas a cool afternoon and a media 100m race was about to be contested. The pre-meet favourite was indeed Mr Brown, who I was reliably informed spent weeks upon weeks preparing for the race, and even got himself a shiny new pair of spikes.

I was never on the original starting list, but it would have been a travesty if I stood around and watched the race from the sidelines as a mere spectator. So minutes before the starter's gun I decided to enter the race, and 9.98 seconds later ... ok, ok, maybe it was 11-point-something seconds later, or even 12-point-something seconds later ... the point is, I was crossing the line as the new local media 100m champion.

Mr Brown had to settle for a miserable second place. I swear, that is all there is to the story. His version will include complaints of hamstring pulls and whatnot, but The Gleaner's report makes no mention of this, so it cannot be true - argument done!

So, anyway, I was thrilled with that lousy win, so I can imagine Federick's and Odail Todd's (who won the 100m for boys) emotions.

Ritualistic gesture

Anyway, I woke up yesterday feeling rather ... Jam-French. I figured if I was going to be here for a few more days I may as well immerse myself in SOME of the culture. After all, when in France do as the French do. So I got up for breakfast, told everyone "bon jour", had my bread without complaint, walked up to the older lady that waited my table and 'Muah' - big kiss on the right cheek; 'Muah' - big kiss on the left cheek, she smiled and returned the ritualistic gesture to some amusement from the other diners.

I went on the street, bought bread, held it under my arm and dropped a few coins (yes, coins - I don't have money to waste) into the hat of a terrible guitar player, who was playing for money.

Tomorrow, I may even create a painting or compose a love poem, you can never tell. After all, I do have a French name so perhaps there is a little bit of inner French.