Geneva

I had heard from several semi-reliable sources that Geneva was a "boring" city with little to do. This characterization, I must protest. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Wednesday

Travel to Geneva turned out to be more annoying than necessary. I got to Gatwick very early (with enough time to do some duty free shopping and have 2 pints in the pub), which turned out to be completely useless. EasyJet has this system where you don't have assigned seats, instead you have a "priority number". I was number 13, always lucky, right? Well, being a discount airline, they have issues, so when they switched gates on us about 15 minutes prior to the scheduled departure, it became a free for all and I ended up getting a shoddy seat. No matter, I was still eager and optimistic. All was not right in the world, however, as 1 computer in the air traffic control center went down and it knocked out all air traffic control in the entire UK for about an hour. So, we sat on the tarmac, cooling our jets. Finally, we left and the flight was uneventful.

Flying into Geneva was pretty cool. I had a window seat and even though it was dark outside, you could see the snow and ice on the mountains below us. Geneva is in a valley, so after seeing the mountains very close, suddenly they drop away and you realize you're still at a pretty high altitude. Anyway, I got in late, but not too late and joined Eurotrash, Real World, and the Albanian (his country of origin seems to change every time I mention him) at the hostel.

Sleep on Wednesday night was not forthcoming. In rooming with Real World, I made the first mistake of the trip. It was not her penchant to say ignorant things, such as these:

"I went down to the ocean today. You know, the Geneva ocean." (Call the press, there's a new ocean out there.)

And:

"All these people around here speaking Swiss. I don't know what the hell is going on." (Funny, it sounds remarkably similar to French.)

No, it was the chainsaw like noise that emanates from her when she sleeps. There is no way for me to understate the volume and consistency of her apnea. I've heard F-16's make less noise than the inhuman sounds the erupt from Mount Real World. Needless to say, after possibly 4 hours of sleep, I was dead tired on Thursday.

This, of course, presented an interesting dilemma. Either I had to acquire earplugs, move rooms, not sleep, or, the preferred alternative, consume alcoholic beverages in sufficient quantity as to not notice the continual AK-47 fire going on beneath me (bunk beds). I think we all know my choice.

Thursday

The conference went off swimmingly. I'll spare the specific comments until my next post. I have plenty to say, but need to piece together my notes. Sadly, I was unable to eat grilled eurotrash.

In the evening, all of us from Webster London met up at a Fondu restaurant. It's a typically Swiss thing and it did not disappoint. Of course, two of the Americans (Princess - self-named and The Cliché - more on that later) were obnoxious to the point of ridicule, but that was ok because the existence of two women meant that Real World was continually distracted engaging in "girl talk". After dinner, Eurotrash, one of the professors, and I wanted to go out and get drinks. The prof is a new guy to me. He doesn't teach in the IR program, instead he teaches a business course or two and is a full-time prof at another university. Really nice guy and, since he's Argentine, I once again found myself steeped in Latin culture, which is not necessarily a bad thing.

Anyway, we found this totally awesome bar. The music was fantastic - they had a DJ who mixed house music with some of my favorites - Pink Floyd's The Wall, for example. Plus, they had these large sized beers that were only 8 Swiss Francs, which is less than £4 (or around $7, but I don't earn dollars so that's not a relevant comparison). We closed down the shop, hitting on the hot Brazilian waitress all night and even attempting to flirt with the hot police woman who came in to have a drink after her shift was over at 2. "Live life to the fullest", I say.

After we left, the prof sensibly went back to his hotel. Eurotrash and I were not so inclined. Not only were we buzzed, but I had no inclination to attempt to sleep with that chainsaw and he's the gamey type. So, after walking around a bit and not finding a place, we finally stopped in an off license to ask. Now, I must say, after being in the country for just over a day, my French was a little rusty - it has only been 13 years since I last took French. But, using a series of grunts, gestures, and French vocab words that I began to recall, we were able to get directions to a "club".

The Club

The first thing we realized is that this was not a "club", it was a strip club. This was not a deterrent. The let us in with no cover (because we were foreigners) and we immediately ordered drinks that proved to be quite expensive. In no time at all, we were flanked by women. This was unusual. Strippers don't usually come up to you unless their proffering a lap dance. In a moment of clarity, we both realized that we were NOT in a strip club - no, we were in a brothel. There was little to do except finish our drinks and leave - we'd paid too much to just ditch.

After sending away about 5 different prostitutes, they finally sent the head hostess over. She was an absolutely gorgeous Russian lady. I immediately informed her that I was not looking to "engage in an economic relationship" with her and that she could stay if she wanted to chat, but otherwise she was wasting her time. She agreed to stay. Now, after attempting normal conversation with her (and failing because she didn't say much), I seized upon the opportunity of the moment and proceeded to grill her on her choice of profession. How many other times would I have a chance to do that, I thought.

Not only did I grill her on why she was a "ho", I also lectured her extensively on making better choices for her life. When she told me that she did it for the money, I told her that "there's more to life than money". When she told me she was going to school for hotel management (likely story), I told her to "go to a pub and tend bar; it's not as much money but it's an honest dollar for honest work." You get the idea. While I support the right of people to engage in government authorized whoring, I will never believe that it's a good idea for the individual (client or provider) and I stated my case. Now, did she listen to me? Probably not, but that doesn't matter to me much. I entertained myself and I waxed poetic about the dangers of prostitution (physical and emotional). What else could I ask for in that location?

Friday

After getting in at about 4 am, sleep was no problem, even it was short. We got up a little late for the conference, but I still got decked out in my suit. I've learned from the Brits to always be posh. We were only 15 minutes late too, which was pretty damn skippy. Eurotrash was looking pretty slovenly, but I carried the team, so to speak. The rumors had already spread that we had "got well oiled", which isn't a bad reputation really because we got well oiled AND showed up with competence. I even got a question answered by one of the panelists (finally!). The conference concluded around 1.

The Americans wanted to go out into the Old City and we were amenable. Friday afternoon was our only chance to see the sights. The Old City is really cool - like what you expect from old Europe. We walked around for awhile until I personally reached the breaking point. The Cliché, as she will be ensconced in the record books, was being the totally annoying American tourist - EVERYTHING was quaint. Just imagine a 22-year old American girl, beret firmly attached to head, walking through old Europe, undoubtedly fulfilling some vision she had as a pre-pubescent adolescent that includes things like going into the Rousseau museum and stopping at every overpriced shop "just to look". I reached the breaking point when she insisted on stopping the group so that she could go into an old book shop. I mean really, how fucking cliched is it to look at old, dusty, musty books in a language you don't even understand? Have a little class, ho. Anyway, Eurotrash and I were both feeling the same way, so we ditched the group to go watch shopping.

You don't go to Switzerland without at least considering buying a Swiss watch. Now, I wasn't sure I was going to buy one, but I haven't worn a watch for about 2 years and they make some damn nice watches there. In the end, I tried on close to 50 watches, finally purchasing a Swiss Military watch that I totally love. And, it only cost 200 Swiss Francs which is less than £100. I also purchased a kilo of Swiss chocolate, which I have to say was almost as good as an investment as the watch.

Friday night we hung around the hostel. We were too tired to go out, although we did have a few drinks. The American crew was fully assembled which resulted in extended nobilarity (and resurrected a pointless argument between Eurotrash and The Princess). The piece dé resistance, however, occurred when Real World and The Princess both exclaimed that "Aussies" were horrible to date, pontificated on that point for an extended period of time, only to be told that the guy sitting RIGHT NEXT to them was from Australia. Good times.

All in all, I had an absolute blast. I love Geneva. It's so beautiful, everyone speaks French, and it's not a claustrophobic city like London. Instead, it has wide open spaces, fresh air, and less crime. I'll discuss this more tomorrow. In short, I definitely recommend Geneva.

Addendum

"The Princess" is an appropriate name for this total nob. When we had a chat about where we were staying a few weeks ago, she cringed at the thought of staying at a hostel and even suggested that it was "ok for guys, but women are different". So, surprise, surprise, guess who shows up at the hostel on Thursday night (after spending Wednesday in an overpriced hotel)? She did not, however, share a room. Instead, she paid double the price to have an entire room to herself, which of course raises the question: Why move from the hotel at all? Anyway, she referred to herself as "the Princess" on Friday and it stuck. Eurotrash and I will never let her forget it. It helps that she's a rank moron.