Fruit Salad

Sitting hunched over my fruit salad and coffee in the Chez Lando breakfast room I tune into the conversation of two Ugandan fellows on an adjacent table. One wears a relaxed looking linen suit with a peach coloured shirt and no tie. His companion is more formal, wearing a navy double breasted affair with gold buttons, shiny tie, and the label of the suit still attached to his sleeve cuff. His shoes are very shiny.

Linen suit: "How do you say 'eight' in French?"
Navy suit: "Its 'eight' same as in English"

I sigh into my fruit salad. They haven't changed the fruit salad since I started staying here in January. I've eaten this at least 150 times now, as part of a drudging daily ritual of getting something healthy inside me before I get to work.

Linen suit: "Are all the numbers the same then? The same as in English?"

My coffee cup smells slightly of fish.

Navy suit (after a pause): "No, just some of them".

A large American woman across the room raises an eyebrow, then pretends to look out of the window.

Linen suit: "Which ones then?"

Navy suit: "I only know up to ten. It goes 'Un, deux, tree, quarte, sink, six - that one is the same - sept, eight - same, nine - same, dix'"

I decide that it's time to change hotels.