Bienvenue à Genève!

Heidi braids, red-checkered plaids, and yodeling were what I long imagined as Switzerland. Visions of my childhood reading come to life with a log-cabinesque structure and snow-capped mountains. Let me tell you---whatever you’d imagine as the complete opposite of a log cabin, that’s where we’re staying. Asian-inspired with the sweetest aromas floating in the air above our orchid, welcome to the world of supersonic elevators, leather headboards, and designer body milk. (In case you don't know, hotels are up there on my list of favorite things with apple pie and baseball.)

We got off the train in Geneva, and walked into a sleek and clean world of watches and banks, luxury hotels, and a teal lake surrounded by cliffs with a fountain rocketing over 400 feet in the air above the lake, silent and cool. (Sorry, the photos aren't aligning with the words as I'd like this time.)

Except it wasn’t teal last night, because it was night, and thousands of bulbs dangled in a perfect line around the inlet Geneva sits on, making the whole place feel like a massive carousel.


Slowly, the tensions of travelling are seeping away with quiet meals outside under huge umbrellas, with tiny birds falling like leaves under thick, old trees along the promenade, and with a man holding me as we walk. I couldn’t adore him more. There is a barrel-full of things I want to worry about, but I’m ignoring psycho-analysis, pushing them back, and drinking mountain water. In the next week, the uncertainties ahead have no place, and instead there will be gulps and gulps of pure air, time with the one I love.

This week there is time to stop, to look, to savour. Rushing has no place this week. He is leading us beside still waters. And it is good. (They love their fountains so much, they float flower boxes in them. Howdy-doo-dee, delightfulness!)


This week is good from our Grohe rain shower to banana ice cream in the sun by the lake. It is good from the smell of the sea lake to accordions and clarinets playing over our lunch of rösti with cheese. It is good in the walking together and sitting together in silence. This week is good in that it’s not about doing, but being (and that sounds horribly philosophical, but you know what I mean.) I love that the Swiss use linen tablecloths and sofas and keep their windows speckled with colour.

Around a random corner, we came across a famous church from this Reformation town (how European-cliche, but it did happen), and Walker took some stunning photos. Too bad these aren't his, and just what I shot with an itty lens.

We sat on a bench watching two of the kid obsessions of Europe at the moment: scooters and roller-blades (yes, much more than fashion from the 80's is back in, and coming soon to an America near you.) Apparently, little scooter boys like to all vie for attention of the same roller-blade girl (bedecked in pink knee-protectors).

I hear our hotel’s wall fountain on the patio beneath our window, and have counted a total of one car honk in Geneva. There is a little bottle on our bed of pillow spray to scent our pillows with rosemary and lavender.


Geneva, we dub you City of Rejuvenation by the power vested us as tired travellers.

To the Alps tomorrow!


For the record, when I was trying to spell the title of this post, Walker said to Google Translate it. Then I asked him how to get to Google Translate, as my Google account has gone French on me. He replied without a pause, 'Just google it.'