Welcome to Geneva!

Like a missionary evangelizing, I passed the train ride from Lyon to Geneva preaching the global conversation to a young man from Cameroon whose sister and brothers-in-law are teachers. He was fascinated by the concept of classroom connections between school children and took the Waza Alliance and Able and Willing website addresses, promising to read about our work that evening. He offered to buy me coffee and helped me find my bus, reminding me to stop at the ATM for Swiss francs.

Which was a start, the 100 franc bill that it fed me, but I suspected that the bus would require coins, and with shock, realized that I had no idea how much a Swiss franc was worth. A kind woman told me that 100 francs was about 70 euros, so francs are about the same as dollars. I went into a shop to get change, and chickened out, buying a paperback to get my change and asking how much the bus cost. I thought the 5 franc coin was good enough for a 3 franc bus. Silly me.

Next issue was finding the #3 bus that my email said was right in front of the station. It was, but going in the wrong direction (good thing I asked). Eventually I found the #3 several blocks away and, pleased with myself, hopped on, slipping the 5 francs to the driver with a smile. Which he greeted with an expression of disgust –“another dumb tourist” – and told me I had to buy my ticket from the machine at the curb. As he shut the door behind me and drove off. I stood behind the turnstile, paralyzed, and he snarled, “Well, DO something!” I timidly pushed through the bar, which I thought was fixed in place until I had a ticket, and waited for the next stop, throwing my suitcase on the rack. He threw back at me, “And you need the exact change!” So I implored the nearest passenger to change my 5 franc coin, which he kindly did. At the next stop I pointed to the machine and said, I just buy it there? And he said, push the red button in the yellow column. I just stood there stunned. I do what? He said, LISTEN TO ME. Push the red button in the yellow column.

I thought London’s tube was a mess. This system doesn’t even have a map that helps! As I jumped to the curb I said, You have my suitcase, Don’t leave me! The kind passengers did their best short of patting me on the head, saying, it’s a disgrace, don’t feel bad, it’s incomprehensible. I said, ruefully, I’ve been in Switzerland for 2 minutes and haven’t done anything right yet! Which of course is status quo, so I’m over it.

The dorm is so IUesque, I feel right at home! Unfortunately, my large window faces west, which though it is great for sunsets, is pretty much the sauna treatment, even with the shutter down all afternoon. It does cool off at night, so I’ve slept well (when not getting phone calls from home at midnight!) It has been quite hot, 28-30 degrees C, which I think is 90s plus very humid.

The university classrooms are stifling and the natives are used to it, so we wilted in dismay as our chipper instructors in suit and tie chattered on, never breaking a sweat. I’m changing 3 times a day, soaked. The guys on the bus are in snappy suits, polished shoes, looking comfy. I’m dripping and wondering how we can be standing toe to toe and yet be on different weather maps. And I think Switzerland: Alpine chill. Hot cocoa. Nope. Let’s break stereotypes here: think, sweaty city.

Sunday afternoon we had a walking tour of Geneva with a veritable bottomless well of encyclopedic knowledge. He walked us for 4 hours, to the Calvin Academy, with the 3 vault keystones in the three languages of the school needed for Scriptural reading: Greek, Latin, Hebrew.

























We saw the tower commemorating the spy caught smuggling the key to the city out in a dead goose – and later saw the Siberian geese that have migrated here due to climate change. The little island dedicated to Jean – Jacques Rousseau, born here, and the 18th hotel where Dickens was staying during the war of 1848 when a cannon ball came through the wall, seriously compromising his good impression of the city.





The Rolex company among others made me think of Brad and Steph and Michael – there was an antique store of tools of the watchmaking trade they would have enjoyed.




















The roots of the city pre-reformation divided it into Italian, French, and German sectors due to the business interests of the city commerce. Street names changed with the reformation, from The Street of Pretty Girls, for example. Not Calviinist. The romanesque and gothic cathedrals became protestant temples, the statues of saints cast into the Rhone. Such religious conflict always saddens me.









The European Soccer championships this weekend have the city in an uproar and the Lake Leman waterfront celebrates the local furor. There are fans of the teams from Spain and from Germany everywhere sporting their teams’ colors. The Sunday night final game needed no tv access to keep current – the horns and shouts in the street announced the winning goal. I know Eusebio and Chebi are thrilled, and Christian disappointed.

Our Monday courses at the University involved 90 minute presentations on an overview of Swiss history from the point of view of a journalist/geographer, the Swiss systems (26) of education, and the economics of 2nd language acquisition. All were exceptionally well presented though our fatigue and heat-induced suffering had to be pretty evident in spite of the coffee and cold water splashed liberally on the face & neck at every break!

This modern monument illustrates the meridional line that passes through Geneva.

Our meals are uniformly wonderful. I bought my first and last Swiss chocolate this afternoon, desperate to stay awake – oh my. Oh my. Oh my.

I will buy gift boxes of chocolate to bring home for staff and students as promised, at the last minute, and savor the fond memory of that one indulgent treat. Wow. I will leave you with that taste on your tongue, creamy and rich, ridiculously rich. Wow.