For those of you who travel, particularly over longer distances , you’ll be familiar with that weird phenomenon called jet lag. Even if you’re a pro (or in my case an old pro) some things just take a little time. So today has started slowly with cafe au lait, equal parts of hot milk and hot coffee in steaming silver(ish) pots. It was followed by – ahhh – freshly baked bread, the smell of which woke me this morning around 4:00 am. I seem to have a morning theme going.
So coffee it was, followed by one of the best showers I’ve ever had that includes – get this – a view of the skyline. And don’t get me started on the soap and shampoo. Seriously, this is heavenly.
So here’s the view to the left of my little balcony.
Just in case you thought I took a wrong turn and ended up in Tuscany, this is the view looking in the other direction.
Geneva is not particularly large – in some ways it’s a little like Burlington., Vermont. It’s centered around Lac Leman both geographically and culturally. There are arts on the waterfront and pleasant gardens to wander through. It’s dog-friendly, bike friendly, kid friendly, and tourist accepting. Mostly. There are perils involved if you understand enough French to know what other people are saying about you. I overheard a conversation behind me in which one man decided I was American because of my size while another said I couldn’t be because of my fair skin. I turned around a gave them an eyebrow and a grin. They nodded politely.
So politeness seems almost universal here. Except for bus drivers. I’ve only met one, and he was one too many. The instructions I received were to walk to the corner, take a right and look for the word bus on the street. I did. Buses passed me. When I saw the next one with my number on it, I waved. The driver slammed on his brakes, opened the door and started shouting at me. Let’s say I got the gist of it. I apologized. He stopped, looked at me, and shouted “Montrez, montrez!” So I did. At which point he gunned it back into traffic and I quite literally fell flat on my….well, you know. Come to find out, “BUS” painted on the street means a bus and taxi lane, not bus stop. Logical, right? I’m blaming jet lag.
On to acts of kindness. To the lady at Logan Airport who had to pat me down twice, thank you. I know you were more embarrassed than I was. To the US Customs who searched my bag and put it back pretty much the way they found it, thank you. So I roll clothes when I pack them. Now they’re folded. Life is good. What surprised me was how difficult it was to leave. When I got to Geneva, they scanned my passport and told me to have a good stay. The end. I wonder if they know what a thorough job US Customs does.
Last but nowhere near least are my fellow passengers from London to Geneva. We were late leaving. Like eye-crossingly, darkest-night, perpetuator-of-headaches-and-ire late. So there was I surrounded at the gate by a posse of businessmen wearing suits that clearly cost more than my entire wardrobe for the last ten years. They were groomed, manicured, Patek-Philliped, and pressed into tight creases. They all had that fresh from the gymn since the cradle body, gently greying hair, and a mien that spoke of aristocracy. And there was me. They after you, madame’d me on to the plane and off of the plane. While other people waiting impatiently at other gates seethed audibly, I was in the middle of a flock of starched emperor penguins who never once displayed any obvious emotion regarding the entire mess. I gather it was a “Western Europe” thing. A plane had an engine fire, which caused everyone to be backed up. For some reason Nice kept coming up as the culprit. Or maybe that was just the British explanation. A millennium or more of political and social tension tends to lead to general snarkiness.
Oh, and I really can’t thank the folks here at Eden Hotel in Geneva sufficiently. The gentleman manning the lobby last night was as kind as they come. The front desk has been immensely helpful (except for the bus incident, which was really me). And, boy, coffee and fresh bread. It’s the way to go.