Geneva

After a very early morning start, and some frantic searching for our train tickets, which had decided to place themselves under a book somehow… we made it to the train in time. With our long journey ahead since we couldn’t get the direct route, we put our Eurail pass winnings to good use. The First Class cabins aren’t all that different from the normal ride, although I guess it depends what train you get, but they are a lot less crowded.

Travelling through the Alps, we managed to stay awake most of the time to take in the stunning scenery; snow-capped mountains, churches gripping for life onto cliffs, small Swiss villages proudly flying their country flag. It was a tiresomely long day, and after our 7am start, we didn’t arrive in Geneva until after 7pm. A quick stopover in Milan for an hour left us holed up around the train station eating a picnic lunch in the burning heat, without time to venture beyond.

Andrew was flying from London to Geneva to meet us, and after a few confusing tram mix-ups, we met him along the way to Enguerrand and Gaelle’s house – friends of my sister Michelle who were kindly hosting us for two nights. When trying to buy tickets for the tram, and having problems with notes versus coins, card operated business and a line beginning to form behind us, we were given a ticket by a kind stranger with an extra she didn’t need. Another guy got a bit impatient waiting behind us, and jumped in with his card, “I’ll buy you a f***ing ticket”… which had us laughing and thanking him for his strange generosity stemmed from annoyance.

We had been given directions from Enguerrand to hope off at a certain stop and then cross the border into France. Yes, France. So we had left Nice in France that morning, been to Italy, Switzerland, and now we were heading back to France for the night. This country hopping is crazy. We expected a huge drama at the line, and with our passports ready we approached to see… well, nothing really. It is a line, and there he was standing and waving on the other side.
We drove the short distance from the border to their very stylish apartment, and met Gaelle who was in the midst of cooking Raclette for dinner – a traditional meal (which became obvious when you start tucking into hot cheese, potatoes, deli meats and pickles, and wish you’d spent a day in the slopes saving up for it). It was a very tasty meal, and although our tummies were weighed down afterwards, we still managed to fit in some Movenpick icecream – we were in Switzerland after all.

After a few drinks, we drove into Geneva towards a city carnival by the lake, and met up with one of their friends along the way. Brazilian music pulsated through the air, as hoards of dancers crammed between cocktail stands. After a very very strong and sugary round of Caipirinhas, we headed further into town, past the red light district, which is apparently now also holds a stretch of great restaurants, and in search of more drinks. After walking for a while, and realising town was pretty empty except for the festival, we admitted defeat (it was a Monday night), and headed back to their place.