Vielle Ville

Ah, Geneva. Discovered by the Germans in 1834, the name of the city means "a whale's..."*

To get on track... Started off yesterday with a trip over to the Jet d'Eau, a giant water fountain that's the emblem of the city. Based on a jetty in the middle of the harbor, it shoots 132 gallons of water per second 460 feet into the air. You can walk right up to the thing but once I got within 50 yards the winds shifted and I got soaked, so fail. After sitting for a while on the neighboring quay and watching persistent Japanese tourists try to get as close to the fount as possible before they slipped on the wet cobblestone and ate it, I walked over to the Jardin Anglais to fulfill the second of my two touristy obligations: to see the flower clock. It was a little underwhelming since all the flowers that make up the clock face bloom in June. The clock itself keeps perfect time, which is expected from the capital city of clockmaking - out of all the money spent in the world on watches, 55% of it is spent on watches made in Geneva (for those of you going, "Wait, I thought the Japanese made almost every watch" just think about how many boatloads of Seikos one Patek Philippe could buy).

From there I took in the other tourist sites of the left bank: a statue the city dedicated to its hall-of-famer Rousseau, a 13th-century tower with a plaque commemorating a visit by Caesar, the city's old arsenal replete with 17th century cannons, and the Hotel-de-Ville, the town hall where Geneva declared its independence, where the Red Cross was founded, and where you can still walk up to the top of the center tower and knock on the office door of what's Geneva's governor, essentially - I refrained from doing so because I think the Swiss lack the humor to appreciate that.

For lunch I stopped at a sidewalk cafe where my meal of fliets de perches meuniere, fresh from the lake, cost two nights' stay at the hostel and where, yet again, I somehow managed to order a bottle of carbonated water - or as I call it, the Tears of Satan. I wandered around the city some more when I came on a park filled with Swiss men doing their best to look serious while they moved around giant chess pieces with both hands. They almost succeeded.

Making it back to my hostel and its fin-de-siecle elegance, I took a siesta and then headed to the English pub on the street corner, Mr. Pickwick's. I was able to watch the Suns beat the Lakers, England beat Mexico, and two Jack and Cokes beat my wallet (36 Francs for two little glasses... at .90 Francs to the dollar).
Yes, things are extremely expensive in Geneva, but it seems that the Genevese do quite well for themselves. I've seen more $100,000+ cars than the rest of my life combined, and am now familiar with the most recent models of Maseratis, Porches, Audis, Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Mercedes, BMWs, Saleens, Bentleys, Rolls-Royces and Aston Martins. But then again all the expensive cars make sense as you'd have to have $100 bills coming out the wazoo to enjoy a night out here.

And to wrap this up, here's a video I took from my park bench of the Jet d'Eau firing up for the day.


*For those of you keeping score at home, that's two Anchorman references in as many days.