Against the closing of spring and just as summer is about to make its anticipated entrance, our car zoomed along the curvy asphalt, passing several “Ausfahrt” signs with France miles away. The further we drove, the more it became apparent that we had come the wrong way. How on earth had we ended up on the Swiss motorway equipped with a map and guided by a disorienting British speaking GPS who clearly didn’t know the German “Ausfahrt” from the French “Sortie”? We didn’t have a clue.
It wasn’t long ago since we had left the airport in Basel, an international point of transit straddling the borders of France, Germany and Switzerland. Along a busy motorway and several miles from where we first started, it was all too late to turn around. Another wrong turn would set us off into a second goose chase. Perhaps it might leads us into a long stretch of mountain pass, a dead end or in Germany. Not exactly the destinations we have in mind.
In an attempt to save gas and ourselves from shame and confusion, we decided to stay on the same road traversing the German-speaking part of Switzerland. The feeling of being lost, the unexpected adventure and the sense of excitement while musing at the unfolding unfamiliar landscape, can oftentimes, if not all, inspire dreams in children and grown-ups. Perhaps this accidental detour might just be a serendipitous repose hiding in plain sight. A thought that my travel partner and I unanimously agreed as we pinned our hopes to this improbability. From the windows of our rental car, just as the sun started to peek through the sleepy clouds, Geneva’s landscape began to take form.
My early memories of this second most populous city in Switzerland were of hostile traffic lights, although pedestrian friendly, greatly prolonged our travel time. Then there were bankers in fancy suits swaggering out from their swanky offices, branded luxury shops next to cuckoo clocks, costume jewelry, chocolates and life insurance signs. Out of these few mental postcards, a personal favorite of mine is the alluring Lac Leman otherwise known as Lake Geneva. If one allows the imagination to take over, the lake resembles a recumbent croissant.
It is also, as the Genevois would say, a giant liquid-mirror reflecting the city’s neutrality and diplomacy. Whatever time or season, its waters exude serenity. The lake draws everyone into its shores and offers the transient beholder a piece of one’s own version of paradise on earth. Could it be that we were destined to miss the turn only to find out that there is something far greater waiting for us at the next bend?
Charlie Chaplin built his villa in the hushed village of Corsier Sur-Vevey and his deep feelings for the lake echoed in his words, “With such happiness, I sit out on our terrace at sunset and look over a vast green lawn to the lake in the distance”. English actor James Mason, like Chaplin, settled into a modest life in Corseaux, a commune in the foothills of Mont-Pèlerin. In his biography, it narrates a happy marriage and a contented life in Switzerland as seen in a photo with his wife, Clarissa ambling near the village where they live, with Lake Geneva in the background.
The composed geographic characteristic of the lake didn’t escape Graham Greene’s gaze while finding fervor writing his 1980’s novel Doctor Fischer of Geneva as well as the Bomb Party. It was later adapted into a film starring James Mason (in his last role) as Dr. Fischer himself. Lord Byron’s poem The Prisoner of Chillon, came to life after his trip to the medieval Chateau de Chillon standing magnificently on the banks of the lake.
Tranquility beckons and inspiration lurks in almost every corner. Perhaps it’s the reason why many artists frequented Lake Geneva. A living medium that would then awake one’s creative imagination. It was easy to comprehend why Ernest Hemingway made it his refuge when he wrote his classic, A Farewell to Arms. An unforgettable story of two lovers caught between the rising horrors of war. Here is where Mary Shelley also gave birth to Frankenstein’s character.
When we reached Geneva, heavy traffic welcomed our arrival at the Pont du Mont-Blanc bridge. We decided to leave the car in a corner and stroll around close to the shore.
The snow-capped mountains loomed from the background as the pencil-fountain jetted water into midair. Like fireworks, the water burst into droplets, a shrouding mist of multi-colored light and magic. Not far, swans bobbed above the surface as ferries crisscrossed the languid waters whisking away locals and romantic tourists alike in search of inspiration.
In the early morning breeze, the red flags with white cooped crosses danced. The leaves fell from the trees, swirled and scattered by the zephyr blowing from where the Rhone River flows. I gazed at the direction of the river. My heart swelled with delight and felt that France was within arm’s reach. After all, this is the same river that runs through southeastern France and upon reaching Arles, convenes with the Mediterranean.
We ambled to the opposite side of the banks. The cobbled streets seemed to embrace idle wanderers. In our case, lost travelers. Early joggers came to and fro, and so did old ladies with their miniature well-groomed dogs. There is fondness for small things here. Like the city itself, rather small in size, but it seemed a part of the world is wedged into this corner of Switzerland. Add the lake and its multi-lingual residents; I think that’s where the allure lies.
Our accidental detour ended on the western shore of Lake Geneva in the city of the same name. We were about to turn around when a familiar sign post caught our attention. Our hearts raced as we bolted to the reassuring comfort of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel that stood opposite the street. In an instant, I grabbed my partner’s arm and thought about how the unplanned journey was turning out to be a delightful revelation.
We wandered inside to seek repose after our early morning ‘lost in translation’ ordeal. Our stomach grumbled smelling the freshly baked bread and warm croissants. A cheese glass dome sat in the middle of the room and a dark lava of melting chocolate was positioned at the far end. I sampled a few Swiss cheeses, known to be some of the best, chomped cold cuts and salamis and sipped my coffee in the inspired Parisian terrace of the Café Calla all the while eyeing at the Rhone River in front of me.
Perhaps, unknowingly missing a turn can sometimes lead a traveler to unexpected places that usher unexpected bliss. Not to mention the pleasure of a satisfying guilt-free five-star breakfast.
It was time to go home. As we headed back to the car, getting ready for the second leg of our journey – with high hopes of finally arriving in France, I gladly switched-off the GPS and gazed one last look and for a long time at the place and of the lake.
My travel partner hit the gas and turned the knob of the car stereo. The long red tail lights from earlier had finally ease. In the background was Bruce Springsteen’s Thunder Road singing ‘With a chance to make it good somehow. Hey, what else can we do now? Except roll down the window and let the wind blow.’
BUTTER MY BAGUETTE
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It’s always a pleasure to read your chronicles, which transport us not only to the places but also to the feeling of belonging to the story you’re telling. I’ve never been to Geneva but I have some friends who live there and I think it’s a nice city to live in, although in general Switzerland is quite expensive.
This story is proof that sometimes getting lost is the best way to find ourselfs!
This was a lovely short stop on your travels. I’ve not been properly to Geneva (only the airport and that doesn’t really count) but would love to. But Switzerland is so insanely expensive 🙁 I love your background on literary inspiraion that Lake Geneva triggered and brought us some absolute classics from Shelly and Hemingway. Let’s see if Eurovision takes place in Geneva next year given that it is also the seat of the EBU.
Carolin | Solo Travel Story
What a great detour to have. I agree with you about the unexpected bumps in the road may be the perfect journey we needed. Glad you made it to France though, eventually.
Geneva has been on my list of Swiss cities to visit ever since I di a tour visiting 3 of its northern cities.
Just like those places Geneva looks like it exudes typical Swiss charm, in its carefully maintained buildings and wonderful setting, amongst mountains and lakes.
I’ve heard it can be an expensive city to visit but then, as a Brit, I found Switzerland to generally be an expensive country.
However, I loved seeing it and ache to see more of its cities and landscape!
Well if my blog name doesn’t make it clear, I do adore getting a little bit lost. After all that’s when you find the most wonderful places that you hadn’t even considered visiting. I’ll admit I didn’t warm to Switzerland after my visit to Basel but perhaps it’s worth giving it another go, if for no reason than to wander in the footsteps of Mr. Chaplin. What a delightful journey you had, but hoping you did eventually make it to France as intended
I love a serendipitous adventure! Geneva is gorgeous. You captured the serenity well. The photo has me imagining myself enjoying a coffee and treat next to the shores while indulging in the views. I would definitely want to sample ALL the cheeses!
Lyn | http://www.ramblynjazz.com
I love how an inadvertent detour can lead to a special travel memory. Geneva looks gorgeous in its serenity and it is clear to see why so many writers, artists and actors made this place their home. Good idea to abandon the car and go for a walk and then indulge in a splendid brekkie. Cheese dome with the finest Swiss cheeses? Irresistible!
The lake does look a bit like a recumbent croissant, yes, and I totally agree with you, it does exude tranquility and serenity, more so than other lakes. I’ll have to stop at Cafe Calla for breakfast on my next visit.
Beautiful Jan. Thanks for sharing your work with me. And hey, Germany ain’t that bad. next time you are near, hit me up and I show you guys around. Would be fun, that’s for sure ????