Last year I met a man who told me that I was like the city of Geneva — elegant and detached. He has since revised his notions of me, but the description had an impact on me. Well, at least the detached part. So this year, for his 41st birthday we went to see if the vision held true.
But there was a road to take first. This particular road carried me through the Alps after a night of driving. Dawn found us with the Alps hovering over us. Climbing up jutting rock met sky. He danced on the morning of his birthday under snow covered peaks. We spoke German for breakfast, slept in the car, then descended into those green valleys with the dog-eared chalets and vineyards. That was an experience of a lifetime. More driving, afternoon came and French was spoken, then Lac Léman (Lake Geneva) and its cloudy cold blue. Cully charmed us around sunset and the autumn leaves put on their best.
Around dark, excited, tired, we came into Geneva. I’m in love with this place. I know the identity with banks and the price of neutrality. I can see the detached. But the elegant. It’s too much to write about here. I took too many pictures to show here. So, give me some time. I’m still getting over the magic.
More ahead. For now, know I’m back, happy, and rich with connection. Je suis heureux.