Geneva sits on a slip of land at the west of its lake. Flying in to clear blue water beneath us, after a delayed and just tolerable Easy jet flight, we’re so pleased to arrive. The most French of Swiss cities, it took an effort to get out of the now freely thought habit of speaking español. Channeling the high school French lessons for P2 helped with the basics. Such as, we said hello to a dog, Le chien. I’ve since been encouraged to consult google translate, not him. Our Airbnb was on the fourth floor of an early 1900s building, serviced by a lift as small as a fridge, in a wired cage, and that you may have to wait some time for. We figured out the floor buttons didn’t properly register after squeezing ourselves
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