Geneva

After the appropriate emails on Thursday to set up our rendezvous with my ex-stepson, Dave, who arrived in Geneva this morning for a week-long UN conference he is attending, we set out for Geneva on the 9:04 train. The day was hazy but warm and full of promise. We arrived, and made our connection with Dave by phone who met us on the waterfront where we made our way into Old Town. After a delightful lunch, we toured the cathedral and returned to Dave's hotel (the Kempinski - tres posh, merci beaucoup!) so he could get his travel pass and we set off to the UN for a tour.

Getting off the tram at the entrance to the UN, I had just taken a picture of that famous chair with the broken leg erected by the anti-land mine people and was checking the outcome in the camera when this renegade curb leapt out of nowhere and pulled the street right out from under me. As the curb cackled with glee (I distinctly remember that!), I proceeded to execute what would later be described as a near-perfect face plant on the public thoroughfare, landing on top of my camera then rolling like a landing parachutist, jetisoning non-essentials like shoes, glasses, camera batteries and the like until coming to a rest about 10 feet from the initial point of impact. I'm told it was a sight that evoked moans of sympathy and averted glances from the Swiss passersby who are unused to witnessing such carnage in their streets. I was fine but for a minor abrasion on my elbow and we proceeded up the hill to the guest entrance for our tour of the place.

We were told that we could only take a guided tour and that wasn't starting until 4 (now being 2:50). Dave was disappointed because he could have shown us where he was working this week without the tour structure, but we nonetheless decided to keep walking up the hill to find the gardens to kill some time before the tour.

The walk took us past the permanent delegations of Russia and the United States assigned to the UN. Each delegation is akin to an armed outpost stationed in a hostile land. Walled, gated and guarded, Dave told us not to take any pictures of the Russian delegation lest they react negatively. As it turned out, when Brian took a picture of the US delegation, a Filipino mercenary guard I'll call "Pedro" started calling Brian an "***hole" (verbatim quote! And I always wondered what "***" sounded like with a Filipino accent. ) and waving his arms at him as we continued walking past on the sidewalk in front of the compound. Not finding the gardens on top of the hill, alas, we had to return to the UN along the same route bringing to life our friend Pedro again, who apparently couldn't excite his fellow guards to kill Brian for his transgression.

We passed by without evil consequences and proceeded to hook up with the guided tour, brought to us by the friendly female German Guide who undoubtedly had a day job of a professor teaching corpses how to sleep (BORING!). Sucking the life's blood from our already tired bodies, Dave at least could give us a side commentary as we walked along the halls, though we could not roam the grounds due to "security concerns." Where in God's name do they get the idea we could care what the hell they do there?!

Leaving the UN, we hopped the tram back to the Gare where we stopped at a micro-brewer across the street and then found a delightful restaurant around the corner to cap off the night. A long train ride back to Bern ended the day with the prospect of France awaiting us tomorrow! See slide show of Geneva

Videos:

See "Welcome to Geneva!" video.

See "Haul your happy ass away" video.

PS:  The following picture -- taken at the moment of impact --  is believed to be only known record of Terry's infamous face plant.  View it here.