Hiking, God, and Sweating More Than Humanly Possible

This trip has been all about lessons in independence. So, with the clock counting down on my time in Geneva, I decided to tackle one of the remaining things on my list: hiking nearby Mont Salève. Salève is the easiest mountain to get to from Geneva – you can just take a bus to the end of the line. This was going to be my first solo hike, and I was a bit nervous but pretty excited.

Of course, things didn’t go to plan. Have I mentioned that I have a knack for getting lost?

Finding the trailhead was a bit of challenge off the bat – it seemed commonsensical to me that the trail would start near the cable car up to the top off the mountain, but it was actually several blocks away.

Luckily, trails in Switzerland are typically very well marked. That doesn’t mean, however, that they are foolproof. I had looked up trails prior to heading out and found two trails that looked appropriate for me. Arriving at the trail, however, there was only one blaze.

Well. I figured it would work.

Hiking alone was fun, to be honest. I knew how to get back home, I had basic first aid supplies, food, and my handy pocket knife. I kept my headphones on and when I felt like singing out loud (because yeah, that doesn’t happen in public), I did.

It was a gorgeous hike, but it was hard. It was about 35degrees Celsius out, with a chance of thunderstorms later that afternoon. Parts of the hike were quite vertical, and the path was mostly mid-size rock and very dry dirt, meaning a spent a lot of time slipping and falling on my butt.

 

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However, it turns out I wasn’t going in the direction I thought I would be. After finally reaching the top of what started out as a nice set of etched stone stairs and ended as a set of knee-high hurdles, I found myself…in a village. An adorable, immensely quiet village called Monnetier-Monex. I wandered into the small church in the center of town and welcomed the brief moment in a cool, shady room, saying a prayer of gratitude to be here, as in Europe, as well as here…as in wherever the heck Monnetier-Monex was.

Monnetier-Monex church

Monnetier-Monex church

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I then wandered the town (really, more like a dozen houses), running into a very kind old lady who insisted it was too hot for hiking and spent quite a while telling me, in both English and French, to get water from the town fountain – not quite understanding the concept of my Camelback nor the fact that the fountain was quite clearly marked “non potable.”

The village I came across

The village I came across

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But that did remind me that it was mid-day, quite hot, and it was time for me to find this fabled cable car to take back down to Geneva.

Long story short, I didn’t find it. Because I was in France. Monnetier-Monex, France. And I did not want to take the cable car to France. I did not live in France.

After quite a bit of map studying and French translating, I realized that the correct car was still about a two hour hike away, and with the intense heat I just did not have enough water to make it (potable or not). My envisioned trip of climbing to a picturesque overlook to enjoy lunch, spend time with my journal, and take a relaxing cable car back to the city dissolved into a pool of sweat. So I turned tail and slipped and slid the way I had come up, taking my time, enjoying the view, still feeling quite proud of myself.

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I decided to take this as encouragement, rather than a warning.

I decided to take this as encouragement, rather than a warning.

It was also repeated in French later

It was also repeated in French later

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Quite a gorgeous view of Geneva

Quite a gorgeous view of Geneva

A Visit to the Red Cross Museum

Yesterday I finally got to visit the Red Cross Museum, which has been on the top of my list since arriving but I haven’t found the time or emotional energy to tackle. After visiting, I can say that I highly recommend it.

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“The Petrified Ones,” sculptures outside the entrance of the museum

The museum is modern, stylish, and interactive, and your ticket comes with a free audio guide that speaks automatically as you move through the museum.

The museum is divided into three parts, following three main pillars of the organizations: reuniting families, reducing natural risks, and restoring human dignity. There is also an interactive room near the entrance that lets you follow the details of the past 150 years of the Red Cross’s work around the world.

First I explored the section on defending human dignity. The museum starts with a history of the Red Cross and international humanitarian declarations and conventions, which is pretty darn cool. One thing I always forget is just how old the Red Cross is – for some reason I assume it came out of one of the World Wars, but it was actually conceived by Henri Dunant following his observations at the Battle of Solferino in 1859, part of the Austrian-Sardinian War. The organization has undergone many transformations over the years and now consists of 97 million volunteers and members worldwide. There was the original copy of the Geneva Convention – nerd alert! Next came a room which largely featured artwork and handicrafts created by political prisoners and displaced individuals. There was also a section where you could listen to different witness testaments about a wide range of experiences.

FullSizeRender-22A sculpture of Henri Dunant, showing excerpts in several languages from his memoirs of Solferino

FullSizeRender-21Voodoo dolls representing three major threats to human dignity – poverty, migration, and urban violence.

FullSizeRender-24The giant foot. Under it are images from humanitarian crises, and projected on screens all around it are humanitarian conventions and declarations going back several centuries.

Next I visited the section of reuniting families, which started with an impressive display of about 6 million identification cards for 2 million individuals missing the wake of the first world war. The audioguide walked you through an exercise on searching and cataloguing these old cards before jumping to more modern-day methods of identification, including photo walls and the Red Cross’s current online database. Perhaps most moving was a display of real letters written from displaced individuals and delivered back to their families through the Red Cross – from current day crises all the way back to World War II. Some were written by children, reassuring their parents that they were safe – so strange to see familiar childlike handwriting staring at you as a memory of a horrible conflict. At this point I had to take a moment to stop and collect myself – there was a wall of photographs of children displaced from their families during the Rwandan genocide, and most of those children were my age, as photo identification was a tool primarily used for children too young or too traumatized to provide identifying details about their families or homes. At a time when I was entering preschool, these unknown peers of mine were lining up to be photographed in a desperate search to find their parents or confirmation of their parents’ deaths.

FullSizeRender-20Identification cards for WWI soldiers, declared a monument to human memory by UNESCO

IMG_4213Photo identifications used to help reunite young children with family members following the Rwandan genocide.

The final section on reducing natural risk was pretty funny – I know, unexpected. But it featured a wall of vintage nutrition and sanitation posters, followed by some very strange digital stop-motion displays about alert systems and human sanitation.

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This one might be my favorite. How adorable.

 

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“Don’t let the fly in” – AKA cover your food!

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I believe this was along the lines of, “For pure life, drink milk!”

FullSizeRender-28Angry Polish babies declaring that they want clean air, sunshine, and their mothers’ breasts.

IMG_4215Chinese posters about washing your hands and good table hygiene.

Overall, a worthwhile visit – though be prepared for some reflective, slightly depressed time, especially when you realize how many of these humanitarian crises the US has been involved in or remained silent to.

United Nations Headquarters in Geneva

“Where, after all, do universal human rights begin? In small places, close to home, so close and so small…Unless these rights have meaning there, they have little meaning anywhere.” Eleanor Roosevelt in her role as the first president of the UN Commission on Human Rights.

Gorgeous Grand Saconnex

When I picked a neighborhood in the suburbs of Geneva, I expected it to be quiet. I didn’t expect it to be quite so charming and gorgeous. It seems like everytime I go out for a run I turn down a new road, get distracted, and well…the run disappates a bit. Today’s turn took me down a lovely trail past a wheat field and towards a gorgeous overlook of the lake. Grand-Saconnex, I’m in love.

          

The Jet d’Eau

Ok, let me be clear. The Jet is actually just a big stream of water shooting into the air. It’s the world’s biggest fountain, and has some really cool details about it, but really – I can just picture a group of engineering students smoking some pot one day and going “Duuuuude. You know what would be cool?”

I recognize that. It’s a silly, slightly-phallic nonsensical bragging point. But at the same time…

It’s flipping awesome.

For obvious reasons, they only run it during spring, fall, and summer, and not when it’s particularly rainy. But on a warm day, venturing out onto the pier, getting soaking wet, seeing the city from a completely different standpoint, and marveling at the rainbow created by the falling water catching in the sunlight…it’s a must for any Geneva visitor.

Adventures at Church

In my recent travels I’ve made an effort to attend a church service in my host country, because I think it’s a great way to immerse yourself in the culture. I attended service at Westminster Abbey in London and Catholic Mass in Havana, and while I felt some similarities from the patterns of worship at my own Presbyterian church, both experiences were quite different and left me feeling humbled and truly like a guest in a new place – an uncomfortable but good feeling.

So when I found myself with a free Sunday this past weekend, I looked up one of the few English-speaking Protestant churches in Geneva – the Church of Scotland. I noted that their website mentioned the church being in a historical location, but in Europe you quickly learn that pretty much everything is “historical” in some way or another. Despite carefully planning my route I of course got lost, and so when I finally found the correct building I rushed in and grabbed a seat, paying little mind to my surroundings.

As I caught my breath I realized I was sitting next to a poster describing the history of the church, and did a double take as I read that the site I was at had served as a place of worship since the 5th century and hosted both John Calvin, leader of the Reformation, and John Knox, founder of the Scottish Presbyterian church, in the 1550s.

Whaaaaaat?!

I can’t comprehend a building dating back to year 1556, much less 401. And I certainly didn’t expect to spend Sunday morning at a place that greatly influenced the development of my own branch of religion. Even more discombobulating was the fact that the auditorium was quite humble – thick stone, wooden chairs, an organ, a podium, and very simple stained glass. The service itself was also simple, led by a preacher with a very heavy Scottish accent and interspersed with Scripture readings from members and simple hymnals. The room was only maybe half full – I overheard a member saying that it usually fills up more towards the middle of summer, when more tourists are around. For such a historic site, it was very unassuming.

Auditoire Calvin, where my church service was held

Auditoire Calvin, where my church service was held

Inside of the Auditor

Inside of the Auditoire

My church adventures didn’t stop there, however. When the service ended I stepped outside and was greeted by a cacophony of noon bells coming from…the Cathedrale St. Pierre, which was literally steps to my right. I don’t know how I missed it – it’s only the most gigantic Gothic-style church in the city.

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Being a lover of old stuff and pretty stuff, I wandered right in. And by wander I mean tripped up the staircase while gaping at the 6ft-diameter stone columns and arched blue entryway and trying not to run into tourists.

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The interior of the Cathedrale is impressively huge, and quite austere thanks to the Calvinists, who removed most of the murals and stained glass from the previously Catholic church when they moved in in the 1550s.

One of the few ornate features of the Cathedrale, a set of pews dating back to the 13th century

One of the few ornate features of the Cathedrale, a set of pews dating back to the 13th century

Interior of the Cathedrale

Interior of the Cathedrale

In one corner of the church is the Chapel of the Maccabees, a small chapel that stands in stark contrast to the austere Cathedrale in that every square inch of it is decorated in color, embroidery, or leafing. I spent a good long time taking it all in, and I believe it might be the most beautiful church I’ve ever been in. The pictures certainly do not do it justice.

 

 

After leaving the Chapel I learned that for 5CHF you could climb to the top of the church towers for a beautiful view. I happily paid, not quite expecting to spend the next 15 minutes in a state of semi- panic attack as I climbed five stories of single-person-wide steep stone spiral stairs. Eventually I reached an interior platform and was mildly relieved before realizing I had another three stories of implausibly narrower stairs to reach either of the two towers.

Fortunately, the view was more than worth the claustrophobia and constant certainty that at any moment I would somehow plummet off the side of the building to my death.

On one side shined Lac Leman, dotted with sailboats and stretching into the distance past the edge of sight. On my other three sides, mountain ranges, each a bit distinct, rose green, blue, and tiered with snow and rock. The maze of the city stretched everywhere, and people wove their way through the streets, lazily on the warm Sunday afternoon. Like a scene from a movie, a street band started playing “When the Saints Go Marching In,” and the notes caught on the summer breeze and found me at the top of the tower, far above it all.

Sometimes, the most wonderful days occur entirely accidentally.

Exactly the type of sign you want to see at such a great height

Exactly the type of sign you want to see at such a great height

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Caves Ouvertes 2015

So, let me take a hot second to tell you about the greatest thing on earth.

Caves Ouvertes. Translation? Winery Open Houses.

Apparently it happens every year: the wineries in the canton of Geneva coordinate an open house for visitors. You simply pay 5CHF for a wine glass (a legit, pretty wine glass!) and you get all the wine tastings you want.

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All the wine tastings you want at each of the dozen or so wineries around the route.

Plus, they provide free shuttles to get you from each one. How ingenious is that? It’s kind of Swiss tradition to bike around to the different vineyards, but given the nature of the event that didn’t seem like a great idea to me.

Check out all these wineries

Check out all these wineries

Our group hit up about 5 wineries, each a little different with a wide array of wines to test out. At each stop you could also purchase food and bottles of wine, and some of the places provided pieces of bread and cheese. We pooled together some food we had picked up beforehand and had a veritable feast of prosciutto, brie, pears, grapes, and baguette, followed up with pieces of chocolate. How lovely is that??

Now, enjoy some photos of the gorgeous Swiss countryside.

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Food…and Food…and Food

Today I learned why the Genevois are so thin.

I also learned that they only get rude on Thursdays.

Let me explain.

So, in Geneva grocery stores close rather early, typically 7pm on weekdays, sometimes a little earlier on Saturdays, and are generally completely closed on Sundays. However, on Thursdays they stay open until 9 or 10pm. After feeling quite overwhelmed at the German grocery store I stumbled into on Monday, I bought myself a cloth shopping bag and armed with that and a bit more confidence with the currency, I’ve been really looking forward to a Thursday so I could take my time finishing up some things at work and finally get some supplies from the pharmacy and grocery store without rushing around. In fact, I looked forward to it all day. Until I realized it was a public holiday and the stores would be closed all day.

The only stores reliably open on both Sundays and holidays are the Migros at the main train station (Gare Cornavin) and at the Airport – meaning a 20 minutes train ride rather than the Denner (discount German grocer) twenty steps from my apartment. But I convinced myself to brave busy Gare Cornavin because it’s also one of the few places in town you can get a monthly bus pass.

The bus pass station was closed – because everyone in Switzerland was at the Migros.

Seriously. Imagine Walmart on a Saturday morning. Shrink the store down to the size of a generously apportioned Starbucks. Stick some confused tourists, hyper children, grumpy cashiers, and two giant rows of Swiss chocolate into the mix. That’s Migros on a Thursday.

The Swiss are polite to a fault. They aren’t necessarily the bubbly, friendly type – everyone is just very reserved and generally keep to themselves. Even the rudeness I felt today wasn’t necessarily rude – it was just being bumped into by people aggressively trying to grab their groceries.

So, why the Genevans are so thin:

1) Limited grocery store hours. It’s a lot easier to eat too much when you can run to the corner store and grab something at any moment. Not having that option helps you plan ahead, apportion better, and get creative with items you have on hand.

2) It takes a lot of effort to buy groceries! If you don’t have a car (because of crazy traffic and very old designs that don’t accommodate parking and navigating very well, most people here take public transport) then you have to trek yourself out to the nearest store. You’re then limited to what you can carry back yourself. It’s actually kind of nice – a work-out and shopping trip at the same time – but I certainly wouldn’t want to do it more than twice a week.

3) Smaller selection. All the necessities plus many luxury items are there, but I’ve found that having smaller stores, shelves, and selections encourages me to think a little more about what I’m buying – whereas the large US grocery stores can feel like a free-for-all. On a related note – it’s more real food. Lots of breads, vegetables, and fruits, less packaged and frozen items.

4) Expense! Because the first grocery store I went to here was the Denner, the discount market, I didn’t quite grasp why so many people went to nearby France to buy grocery. After Migros, I understand better. It isn’t outrageous, but prices are closer to those you’d find in a major US city. Today, about $29 CHF ($32 USD) got me 2 croissants, a Swiss pretzel, 2 small beef patties, a medium-sized loaf of bread, a ham baguette for dinner, two bottles of Coke, two small bottles of orange juice, and a chocolate bar – and I was purposely choosing the cheapest items I could find.

Now, I might go broke, but I certainly won’t starve, and that’s largely thanks to the WHO, which has the best cafeteria I’ve ever seen. The cafeteria in our building serves three entree choices everyday in addition to a salad bar (a fancy-shmancy one), a coffee machine, gazpacho, and a nice selection of fruits, pastries, and desserts. They also serve breakfast, wine, and soft drinks. It’s not super cheap, but you can get a lovely salad (even with meat on top) for under $10, and interns can get the vegetarian meal discounted at $8.

And this is GOOD food. Fancy food. As in, I’ve had two dishes so far that I couldn’t even identify but were still fantastic. Thankfully the WHO also offers a number of free gym classes every week for interns.