The Euroblog, Take 3 - Geneva

You might say that you have to have money to live in Geneva. And you're right. Of course you have to have money to live anywhere. Except Siberia - I think they pay people to live there. But Geneva is a Goliath-sized head and shoulders above the rest - matters of cost quickly become costly matters. Because of this, we cut our stay a little shorter than originally planned, but nonetheless it was still a fun time. And I didn't have to sleep in the same room with Steve, which was a plus for my ability to sleep.

We thought there would be no trouble getting a train from Paris to Geneva. After all, who goes to Geneva on any regular basis, besides a few determinists and people who can't do without authentic watches and Swiss army knives? As it turned out, everyone from Paris does, when the Geneva Festival is going on, the grand finale of which occurred the day we tried to get there. So basically we got up before five in the morning to catch a 7:30 train that turned out to be already full. When Steve tried to get tickets, the lady laughed and said, "Impossible!" I was still half asleep for this trip apparently, as I was too late getting out of one of the metro cars. I timed it perfectly wrong. There were two sets of doors - one on the metro itself and one on the edge of the platform. Both sets of doors simultaneously closed on me right as I walked through with my two bags. Pandemonium ensued as I fought two sets of doors that kept trying to shut on me as I tried to rip my bags and myself through. Thankfully, some of the locals helped me out or half my luggage might have become an artifact of the Paris metro system. I found the whole situation rather humorous. Carly was horrified and thought I had broken my ribcage, that I was going to need emergency surgery, and that I would possibly die.

As it was, we made it to Geneva that evening all in one piece. We did get in at an ideal time, right when they were having a massive fireworks display. The buildings for blocks around were literally shaking. I felt like I was reliving World War II as I was walking out of the train station. After the fireworks came my blind date with the Genevan cost of living. Being hungry and wanting something cheap, I figured McDonald's would do well. After all, they have a dollar menu in the States. As Steve and I looked over the menu, we saw that a meal was over 12 Swiss francs. Unaware of the conversion rate, we decided that there was no way that the Swiss franc was nearly as strong as the dollar, because there was no way a meal at McDonald's would cost anywhere close to 12 dollars. So we both ordered a 12 Swiss franc meal. Warning flag number one was when they wanted to charge us for the little packets of ketchup for the fries. The cashier lady did us a favor by throwing those in for free. Soon after we had gotten the meal, we were informed of the truth - the Swiss franc and the dollar are essentially equal. I learned this in time to realized as I ate my burger that each bite I downed was another dollar I had spent.

The Geneva Festival was a madhouse of people running all over the place filling themselves with food and alcohol. As we walked across a bridge, I felt someone latch onto my bag. Ready to deal with some kind of pickpocket, I whirled around to engage the culprit. I was greeted by 5 smiling faces surrounding one lady in her late 30's, who was grabbing onto my bag. She said something in French, and it was obvious she was totally drunk. Not understanding her, I just stared at her, creating a great awkward moment while she and her friends all smiled back at me, before they just walked off. As John Glass - our gracious host - informed me later, she had asked me to take her away with me. Oh well, the one that got away.

We stayed at the foot of the Alps, and decided to go on a hike up to a nicer spot a bit higher up. It ended up having some great views, and was a popular spot for hang gliders. Apparently it was also a popular spot for kids with remote control airplanes, one of which seemed to keep zooming unnervingly closer and closer to us as we ate lunch on the side of the hill. I wanted to grab the plane and send it sailing over the cliff to its destruction. Our American tourist moment came when we were trying to find an edelweiss, despite having no idea what an edelweiss actually looked like. Is touring in a foreign country known to automatically make you dumber?

Another day we walked around downtown Geneva and checked out a few of the shops. All Carly really cared about on this leg of the trip was being able to try some authentic Swiss chocolate. We found it in a shop, where each bite-size piece cost a dollar. Because of our poor state, we bought five of these little pieces of chocolate. Each of us then took a tiny bite from each piece. I felt like street urchin. Later on, we ventured into several clothing stores. I walked into a Gap, and was laughed at by the shopkeeper lady as it apparently was a women's-only store. Feeling poor and dumb, I ventured into a Diesel outlet, where one pair of jeans sold for 350 dollars. As we walked in, the shopkeeping lady gave us a "What are you jokers going to buy here?" look. Being in Geneva I felt like I had been shot with a shotgun and money was just falling out from every hole. It felt like I was growing poorer even when I was just walking around and not spending anything. I suppose it was only fitting that perhaps the most fun we had in Geneva came when we tried out all the child toys on a playground at a nearby park. This was near what is supposedly the longest bench in Europe, which must have been over 50 yards long. But this begs the question - who figured that out? Where do you work where you get that assignment? "Hey Bob, make sure everyone gets the memo about the meeting tomorrow, and also figure out whether our bench is the longest in Europe."

Sitting at the bus stop we kept cutting up about guys in suits driving bicycles and mopeds around and kept being amused by some of the fashion styles that seemed to be normal for that area. It was like the stereotypes of the 70's teamed up with the stereotypes of the 80's - eccentric clothing revealing extra hairy chests topped off by hairstyles sporting the colors of the spectrum. John - who has lived there for a large part of his life - ridiculed us as being typical American tourists. I say at least we're adept at something on this trip besides ooing and ahhing and spending lots of money.

Quotes:

Carly (concerning germs she was worried had accumulated on her in the city): Why do they stick to you? Can't you feel them on you?
Me: There's probably germs frolicking around all over you right now.
Carly: Germs don't frolic. They miiiingle.

Steve (trying to stall while grabbing camera items): You guys ready?

John: I grew up French, so I'm negative.

We're heading back to Paris for round 2. Ideally both my pocketbook and myself survive. We'll see what happens next...