Autumn 2017: Geneva’s greatest hits

My second day in Geneva got off to a less than organized start.

Franc-ly, my dear…

And all because I forgot I needed francs for the tram.

It was Sunday morning and nothing seemed to be open in Petit-Lancy, so eventually I decided to take an Uber to make it to my rendezvous with my university chum (let’s call her G) on time.

Then I realized my Uber contact number was still the one I’d used in the Middle East, which was probably why the driver couldn’t call me to check where I was on this one-way street.

Anyway, I eventually sorted myself out, met G on time-ish, and off we went to Les Armures.

Fondue for two

The classic specialty at the solidly traditional Les Armures, in Geneva’s Old Town, is fondue. A pot of wonderfully cheesy fondue, the kind that makes you want to scrape every last delicious morsel off the bottom, all while you nibble on sausages, swill some white wine, and carry on an enjoyable conversation with someone you’ve barely seen since graduation.

We knew each other from a more innocent time, where worries chiefly consisted of class deadlines and built-in friends came in the form of college orgmates.

Fast forward years later and here we are in a sunlit Swiss restaurant, a bit more polished around the edges, sharing a boozy brunch and surreptitious giggles about our cute waiter who has just posed for a photo with us.

Le lac Léman

Brunch was followed by a sortie to Lake Geneva, that great deep-blue crescent with its dreamy storybook banks. In the distance, Mont Blanc reared its massive snow-capped head above the clouds.

It was a gloriously sunny, festively crowded afternoon, with dogs skittering about and children getting underfoot and mallards floating on the lake, oblivious to all the commotion.

After the hush and stillness of Petit-Lancy (traits that recommend it, mind), and the general cool civility of the city, the multicultural hubbub was a welcome respite.

The United Nations

When I was ten, one of my parents’ friends asked me what I wanted to become, and I said, A diplomat.

I had this notion of diplomats in full dress, sailing through international corridors at the UN as they represented their countries abroad.

Nowadays, while I respect our foreign service, I in no way wish to represent a country I barely feel at home in, but the UN is still something of a globalist ideal to aspire to.

So there I was, finally at the United Nations in Geneva. There were no guided tours, but I was content to stand outside and take it all in – the Broken Chair, the elegant waterworks, the resplendent fall foliage, the national flags, the stately edifice itself, even the crush of visitors that included a group who were clearly supporting the Catalan separatists.

My ten-year-old self was deeply glad.

A rendezvous for the incurable romantic

The day would end in the best manner it possibly could – with the arrival of my favorite person, K, who had driven through the Alps that afternoon.

Arm in arm on chilly, darkened streets in charming Vieille Ville, we walked till we saw the warmly inviting glow of Brasserie Lipp, the Swiss outpost of a famous Parisian haunt.

Brasserie Lipp had been our Airbnb host’s recommendation, and a solid one it was; old-world service and softly spoken French by waiters garbed in crisp black and white, a glittering backdrop of ornate chandeliers and polished brass.

Food was lovely and traditional once again, accompanied by a proper bottle of wine that the chef selected. I have certainly been dining quite well today, haven’t I?

It was the kind of night where you have a Taylor Swift song in your head for all your feelings, and that night it was Enchanted.

This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go

I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home 🎵

❤️