I have occasionally been ribbed about my policy of being ridiculously early to the airport (no need to name names). This is not because I particularly like hanging around airports. It is merely a contingency in case you get a flat tyre or speeding ticket on the way, or heaven forbid, trouble with public transport. What if you were told by the information centre at the station to catch a train to Brussels airport at a certain time on a certain platform, which you did, then you found out that due to no English on the electronic boards you had got on the wrong train, then you had to get off and wait for another train back to where you started, then on arriving back there you had to wait longer still for the right train to the airport, then you find that train has just been cancelled, and you needed to go to a later-still train on another platform. Then you find that the later-still train has been delayed ten further minutes.
How stressful would that be, I hear you ask? The answer in our case was, not overly. (Refer to policy stated in paragraph 1). We still made it to the bag-drop counter for our flight to Geneva 40 minutes ahead of schedule.
Geneva was just a stopover, being one of the previously mentioned subs for Paris. As such, this is just a quick roundup. Arriving late afternoon we explored on foot; an ice-cream on the esplanade overlooking Lake Geneva, backdropped by the near ranges of the Swiss Alps, and for a moment, a sight of the Jet d’Eau. This apparent icon of the harbour appears in every Genevan postcard, its vertical water jet reaching heights of 140 metres. I say ‘apparent’ because we only saw it operate for a minute or so. Some of its statistics are more impressive than the reality, however. The fountain projects 8 tonnes of water at a rate of 500 litres per second with an exit velocity of 200 kilometres per hour. The pumps have a combined power of 1000kW. That is enough to air condition a ten-storey building, which, on the evidence of what we saw, might have been a better idea.
We liked what we saw of Geneva, clean, ordered and attractive. On the north side of the lake run the causeways of prosperity, streaming with high-end cars; Mercedes, Volvos, Audis and Ferraris, a procession of luxury shops like Rolex, Hublot, Versace, and various others where you needed an eyewatering bank balance and the patience to queue outside (neither of which I have).
Further round the lake was the old town, where we spent most of our time exploring the cobbled lanes and relaxing in the beautiful park, Jardin Anglais with its dappled sunlight and expansive views over the city. We rounded off the night with some excellent pasta in the balmy evening at an Italian restaurant near the base of the old town.
On the way back to the apartment we stopped for a while to listen to a brass band recital in the corner of a square. They were pretty good, including triumphal renditions of One Moment in Time and the theme from The Mandalorian, while clearly enjoying themselves as much as the spectators.
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