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Published: November 22nd 2005
The Southern View
The view to the south of the lake from the cathedral's tower.Hello Reader.
I called Claude from Pascal's house in Lausanne to let him know I would be arriving by train, (a forty-five minute trip). I got to the train station, bought my ticket, checked the platform and walked on over. The train was there so I hopped on. After stuffing my gorilla-of-a-pack on to the overhead shelf, I sat down, looked around at the crowded train, and began to read. After about thirty minutes or so, the train was really beginning to thin out. I had thought most of these people were headed for Geneva. I was checking the stops through the windows to make sure I didn't miss Geneva, but as the last person got off at a station that was NOT Geneva, I got worried. The train didn't look like it was going anywhere for a few minutes so I jumpped off and asked a woman in a nearby office what was going on.
'I am headed to Geneva,' I said.
'Take this train behind you.'
'Oh, good, so it continues on to Geneva,' I nervously asked.
'You must change trains in Lausanne to then get to Geneva.'
Maybe she had not understood
The Northern View
The view to the north of the lake from the cathedral's tower. me. Or maybe I didn't understand her French/English remix. So I pointed towards the direction we had been traveling, hoping the next stop was Geneva.
Her finger raised up in the air, and like a hard swing of a judge's gavel, she pointed in the opposite direction. 'Lausanne, then to Geneva.'
What had happened?! I just came from Lausanne! Had I really just spent almost an hour on a train traveling in the wrong direction? Well, crap.
I jumpped back on the train and waited for it to move. And waited. And waited. I thought it would be best to call Claude to let him know I am an idiot and to tell him I must've took the wrong train and I'd be there as soon as I could. But I saw no phone right on the platform. I could go looking for a phone, but I was sure as soon as I did, the train would leave me. I decided not to risk it. I waited impatiently until a passenger got on and I asked what time the train left, 'forty-three.' I looked at my watch, 'you mean, right now?' The train started to move, and
The Red Vine
A house gift wrapped in ivy. I began my nearly an hour trip back to Lausanne.
I got off in Lausanne, smelled the waffle vendors yet again, made an embarrassing phone call to Claude in Geneva, then got on the correct train - finally arriving in Geneva, three hours after first setting foot in the Lausanne train station. The trip was only supposed to take forty-five minutes.
Claude picked me up from the station. He showed me to his flat, then we headed to a restaurant. It was a microbrewery, so the beer was fresh and good. He insisted that I order something more than a salad, so I did. Chicken with salad and fries. It was all delicious but I think I spilled most of the fries on the ground... but they were still good. The restaurant was alive and loud because of the Turkey/Swiss soccer game on the television in the next room. After an excellent dinner, I thanked my gracioius host and we head out for a night tour of Geneva. (I have been getting a lot of those recently.) The incessant honking of the cars out of celebration for Switzerland's soccer team filled the streets as Claude and I walked
The Rich Man's Grave
A wealthy donation to the city of Geneva will buy you a suspended tomb overlooking the lake. along the lake, showcasing the beauty of Geneva. The enormous guyser that is normally spearheading this international city from the center of the lake was not... down for cleaning. But there was a modern art display with lights of red and green, instead.
We walked by the old United Nations building, then headed to his shop, specializing in pool and foosball tables and equipment. He worked as his own boss and has every reason to be proud of what he has accomplished. We headed home and I fell straight to sleep after such an exhausting night.
I woke up late, despite the courteous wake up by Claude on his way to work. He came back and we went to Manora... but no pasta for me this time. I learned my lesson in Bern. But the food was great and Claude took me to Starbucks for a drink before releasing in to the wild... I mean, Geneva. My first stop was the old town, more specifically the cathedral with the amazing view. I walked through the monsterous cathedral to a small door with the words 'North Tower' on it. Inside, there was a turnstile wanting almost three francs in
exchange for passage to the top. No one was watching so I jumped it, cause I am that guy. The view was great, worth all the stairs I had to climb. I headed down after a few dozen pictures, (not really that many). There was an archeological museum underneath exhibiting the Roman baths and old cerimonial structures on top of which the present cathedral had been built.
As I was going in to the museum, so was Gustavo. I didn't know him at that point but through a miscommunication with the entrance guy (who thought we were together) I ended up paying for his admittance. We walked around the semi-interesting museum and then back up to the North Tower, again taking the 'inexpensive' route up. He took his pictures and we headed out to figure out our plan for the rest of the day.
Gustavo is from Maryland, near Washington DC. He is Peruvian-American, twenty-six years old, and thirsty for learning about different cultures. He is traveling by himself through Europe until the first of January. He reminded me of my friend Mike Baron ('Miami') in Providence. I introduced him to couchsurfing, which he found unbelievable at first,
United Nations After Dark
Once the gates are closed, only the flags are allowed to enter. and to my generous host, Claude. I would spend the next few days with my new friend.
We decided to go to a museum, who's name in acronym form is MAMCO. (The full name has been forgotten.) We spent a few hours there, and only found the Egyptian and Roman artifacts as the museum was closing. I took him to meet Claude at his shop, which was about to close, then to the train so he could go to his relative's house in Coppet, about a twenty minute trip.
Back at the house, Pascal, Claude's friend, came over. Pascal (not the same one from Lausanne, I think), Claude, and I went to pick up some chairs for Pascal, dropped them off at his apartment, picked up his girlfriend, Benny, then we all went to play badminton. Yes, badminton. It was such a random proposition for him to invite me along, especially because I think I was wearing a size four shoe the last time I played. I told him I was not very good, he said they were not competitive and that it was just for fun.
There was an odd number of people so Pascal and
Red and Green
The lights provided a warm seasonal glow to our late night, freezing cold, windy walk out to the center of the lake. I played against Lee, from Singapore, who had calves the size of footballs. He gave us a workout. His friend's were so nice and they all tried their best to speak English around me. Later that night I fell asleep to 'Finding Nemo.'
I met Gustavo the next morning around nine and he, Claude, and I headed to a breakfast cafe, where I had a chocolate croissant and hot tea. Claude had been insisting to pay for every meal, promising me that he would 'let me take care of the next one.' I could see it wasn't happening, so I had to pull the old sneak attack, which he almost intercepted, but I was too quick for him.
Gustavo and I made our way across town to a contemporary museum that was not open yet. We walked in on a staff meeting and got the 'what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here?' look, except we were in Geneva so it was 'qu'est-ce que tu fais ici?' We met a woman at the reception desk named Marie-Claire who gave us free tickets that we would never use. We decided to go to a free photogrophy exhibition she told us about that was in a park
Gustavo and Claude
Enjoying hot chocolate in Claude's apartment. a few blocks away. We didn't find the exhibition, but we did find a giant chess board. We started a 'quick game' that lasted an hour and a half. If I stalemate someone, is that considered a win?
For lunch, the Co-op (pronounced: cope) provided a sandwich, two bananas, and a drink for under five francs. We ate one of the many bridges and talked about prostitution. I told him my standpoint that I think it is capitalism at it's most basic level and I was all for it. I think my price would be too high for anyone though. He saw it simularly, I think.
We went to yet another museum, but we went into this one. It focused on Richard Wagner, (I know he's a composer). All the art had to do with him, whether it was inspired by his misic, or it was his music, or portraits of him, or clips of movies that used scores of his music, you get the picture. It was okay, but not worth the five francs each that Gustavo paid. We spent the rest of the afternoon finding out if Harry Potter had come into theaters yet, it hadn't.
A Beautiful City Statue
I didn't do it, I swear. But after a while it just became an ongoing joke and I was reduced to yelling 'Harry Potter?' at random strangers on the street. We made our way to the closed UN building with a quite unfriendly guard at the gate forbidding me to take even one picture of the façade after hours.
We met Claude who told us to choose from three different restaurants. We chose to have dinner at the final one which was right in the middle of the lake over looking the night skyline of Geneva. It is used as a changing room/public sauna during the summer, and a fondue restaurant in the winter. It was truly unique, and truly delicious. We sat at a table with two women and made pleasant conversation as we devoured our meal. It was my third fondue in two weeks, for those of you counting. I just may turn into a large pot of cheese if I am not careful. Claude again insisted to pay, I think I thanked him all the way home.
We were contemplating finding a place to have a beer after a rest back at Claude's apartment, but the fondue's all-powerful spell was too
Saturday's in the Park
The enormous flea market with lots of stuff I wanted, but didn't need. powerful against our usually powerful will to drink. We talked over hot chocolate and walked Gustavo to the train station, where he agreed to meet me the following morning at ten am. Home. Bed. Sleep.
A shower in the morning, a quick e-mail to my next host in Lyon, and a brisk walk to the train station corner, where I would be the sole occupant fot the next forty-five minutes. No Gustavo. I hoped on the nearest tram, in the same (free-for-me) fashion to which I had grown accustomed, to take me to the other side of the city. There was a flea market on Saturday mornings. Large. I sped through twice to see if maybe Gustavo had misunderstood me and went straight to the market. No Gustavo. As I had finally given up hope and accepted that I would not see him again, he came walking towards me. In a crowd of hundreds and hundreds he found me.
He told me he woke up late. I said no problem and we joked about it as we walked through the seemingly endless line of people trying to sell their junk. We went to the park for a rematch.
Plotting my Trip
In Claude's apartment I was able to trace my steps through Switzerland and plan for the future. Which he lost in fifteen minutes. He wanted another rematch but I had to go home and meet Claude. At home, Claude gave me two more gifts: a t-shirt from Switzerland, and a Chinise chime keychain, (like the one I had admired on his keychain). I cannot begin do describe the generosity of this man, a stranger I had only met a few days prior.
I packed up my stuff and said adios to Gustavo, who's contact information I have. As my friend Claude gave me a ride across the border into France so I could hitchhike, I recounted my two week journey through Switzerland and all the great things I have seen and done. Most revered were the people I met.
Claude left me at a gas station just across the border in France. I, not of the French speaking persuasion, stood and waited in the cold as the sun was going down on an empty lot. Of the four cars that had come through in thirty minutes, not one of them hesitated to give me a 'you don't really think you'll get a ride, do you?' stare. My shadow disappeared and the little abacus in my head tried to convert one hundred and forty-five kilometers into miles, and then into hours on foot.
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becca
non-member comment
ooh, dramatic ending!
Eli, where are you? because in my head, you are wandering up some dirt road in france with one of those hobo sticks over your shoulder. Your ass better post something SOON!!