Gèneve I – Arrivée

Note: Sorry about large gap between updates. I’ve been giving English lessons, chatting with people, going to a conversation table and making tacos.

One concern that I had before leaving for the French-speaking part of Switzerland is that I wouldn’t be able to learn what it’s like to travel where one doesn’t speak any of the official/national languages. That turned out to be a non-issue, as most of the people who heard our French switched quite quickly into English. This phenomenon began at the airport, where we also noted for the first time the Swiss love for wise use of sign space (i.e. no exact directions). After asking three people how to get to the town center from the airport, the nice man at the ticket counter said, “Get on ANY train leaving the airport – the first stop is always the central gare.” Following his instructions, we arrived at the gare and walked a few blocks to our swank hostel. We had sprung for a private room, allowing us to spread our stuff out a bit and rest for awhile before heading out to see the sights. J and I decided that it would Dressing Up Night and that we would chercher (look for) a fancy restaurant for dinner. The weather in Geneva didn’t quite cooperate with our plans – il faisait gris (it was cloudy and gray). J had read a lot about the Jet d’Eau (water jet), which is somewhat impressive in pictures but doesn’t quite stand up to the dancing Bellagio fountains in real life. We walked along a small pont (bridge) to the Ile Rousseau, named for one of the city’s most famous citizens. Scientists from the local university had built a pavilion explaining the Human Genome on the island – right in front of Jean-Jacques’ nose. Peeking inside, we were guided by lighted displays and oddly-dressed mannequins. It reminded me of a former coworker who drinks several cups of coffee a day and has his best ideas on a caffeine high (hey D!). Once we were through with the information overload, we continued along the bridge to the other side of the city. Ducks, swans, and other sorts of waterfowl called out for food and attention along the shores of Lac Léman (Lake Geneva). On an old cobblestone walkway near a historic church, J noticed some lighted bricks. Each contained a message of unity and peace (i.e. “I love you,” “We are all one people,” etc.) written in several different languages and scripts. Looking up, we saw a fancy Italian restaurant and decided to manger (eat) there. Our delicious pizza devoured, we headed back to the hostel, stopping at Lord Jim’s Irish Pub for some beer and conversation.