It’s just as cute and cosy as I remember. What a déjà-vu to go back to living in a quaint village just outside of town. Except that this town seems to be populated by black suits and high heels, distinguished delegates from god-knows-where that have to ask “Do you speak English” when you speak French to them (what a nice change!) and that Swiss people seem to totally accept all the international-ness. Say whaaat? There are also things that I don’t really remember though in all their vividness, though memories come floating back as I come along. Cue stream of consciousness: ohmygodswitzerlandissooooexpensive oh no i am about to enter the supermarket wait that is the special offer? that is supposed supposed to be cheap? omg i’m not going to afford that geneva is going to suck out every rappen i own oh no i’m in now hm strawberries? cantaloupe? oh i can afford apples well they are expensive but oh well hm cheese shall i get cheese hm yes no yes no well ok i can’t live without cheese. Etc.
Also – Swiss people from Geneva are so nice. Seriously. I have had people show me the way, give me their name to add on facebook (non-creepily) and just – smile. Learn, Paris. Learn, St. Petersburg. Learn.
The view – from everywhere. The café in the Palais des Nations has a huge window front that goes out directly in the garden and onto the lake. Sigh… Want to talk about world peace, now?
And finally – OMG no more number-calculating!!! Soixante, septante, huitante, nonante, cent. GO HOME quatre-vingt dix-neuf! Four-times-twenty plus ten plus nine? France, you lose. bad.