I knew about the Geneva Convention, I knew about all the watches, I even knew there was a Lake Geneva from the the opening lyrics of “Smoke on the Water” but that was about all I knew Geneva-wise.
I certainly didn’t know the flight in would be over such jaw-droppimgly awesome mountains or that those mountains sort of cradle half the city with their snow capped prettiness. I hadn’t anticipated the soft-blue hue to the light, or the melted-snow clarity of the water in the lake either, both Of which made our day’s exploratory walk so restfully refreshing.
Then there is the Old Town, all the usual narrow, cobbled streets you find in old Europe, dotted with sun-seeking cafe patrons relishing the early spring sun after a cold winter. The twisty rabbit-warren streets arch over the steep hill and an hour or so of exploring found us re-crossing our path repeatedly as lanes and tunnels unexpectedly lead us back to where we’d come from minutes before. Lots of fun. And all a minutes walk from our hotel- bonus!
Geneva is very calm, ordered and polite. You pretty much expect that, of course, in a famously neutral and peace-loving country. It’s also got a surprising sense of humour, a gentle pace and an artistic sensibility that is more in the people than in galleries, architecture or theatre. I like that.