Geneva Pics

Euro Trip: Leg 2 - Geneva and Lyon

So while I have my mind blown that “Don’t Turn Around” was not an Ace of Base original, I am starting to realize that I either have to update my blog, or forever forget what has happened in Switzerland, or at least in the painstaking detail that I customarily include in “I’m in Europe, Yo.” Right.

Anyways, first a life update. A lot has happened since my last post! At least, a lot that I find interesting.

1. First things first, the Packers made it into the Super Bowl, and I watched them do it! (Thanks Hill, Slingbox is awesome).

2. Hill and I booked our flights and everything to the south of Spain and the north of Italy. We fly to Malaga, go to Granada and the Sierra Nevada (yay for trineo ruso or apparently Russian bobsledding!), Cordoba and then fly from Sevilla to Venice and head to Bologna and Milan.

3. Caitlyn and I planned a surprise party for Hill’s 21^st. Sadly, as 21 isn’t as big of a deal here and it is now finals, we had a very relaxed get together with the Spanish kids from our class. (Don’t worry, we did shoot shots of vodka and coke into people’s mouths, or faces, from the water gun Hill was given as a gift.)

4. We have taken 3 of 4 finals. The last one is to be completed on Monday. Something to look forward to, right?

5. My flights for my family spring break were booked! The fam now needs not worry about getting to Berlin or home from Vienna, only about fitting two week’s worth of stuff into a backpack. I can do it, but my mom takes a full duffle on weekend trips and two suitcases on week long ones. Good luck to her.

So it continues.

Switzerland

Ryanair takes us from Barcelona to Geneva without a hitch. I have to confess, although many people complain, Ryanair is great, if you know what you are getting into. It is cheap. It is efficient. It is always on time. If you expect to get good service and great perks, look elsewhere, but Ryanair gets you from point A to point B just as well as any other airline (if not better than many) and does it so for a tenth of the price, just leave the large suitcase at home. It is easier to travel with just a backpack anyways.

So we touch down in Geneva on time, which is where our good fortune of the day ends. As described in an earlier post, the apartment I happened to choose was very reasonable for the quality, but came with a price. Not only was it a 35 euro cab ride, it was miles away from civilization. Had we rented a car, it would have been great. Yet, we were stuck walking on foot to both Prevessin, this cute little French town with a view of the alps, and Geneva (or at least the nearest Swiss town with a tram connection, Meyrin).

Geneva, for what it is worth, is probably not the best place for a student tourist. We had no money. We were essentially wearing all the clothes we had with us. It was cold. It was expensive. There wasn’t too much to see. But it was still pretty great. When we could see the Alps, it was pretty breathtaking. The cathedral had a beautiful view. The fountain, probably the main draw of the city, show over 400 feet in the air! The place was clean. There were cuckoo clocks and delicious chocolate shops (although my allegiance is to the Belgian chocolates as of now). It was exactly what I expected from Switzerland – an efficient and expensive city which seemed perfectly ordered and completely neutral.

Lyon, France

As we waited in the Geneva train station, Mack asked me, “So why are we going to Lyon?” At that point in the trip, I couldn’t remember. After all the places I had researched for this trip and for past and future trips, Lyon just did not stick out. From what I could remember at that point, it had no memorable monuments, no incredible geological formations.

“I think it was just on the way and I thought it would be nice to see another French town.” I ventured as an answer.

Yet, upon arrival, we both were quite pleased with our Lyonese excursion. Immediately, we felt like we were in France. I don’t know why exactly, but maybe it was the combination of the pastel colors of the sky, the obviously French architecture (which for some would be a dead giveaway), or the crepe stands lining the street, but we were both pretty taken with Lyon. We happened upon some pretty amazing Roman ruins quite unexpectedly. The main cathedral made my jaw drop upon entering, and it had a view to match. Even the walk along either river was refreshing but distinctly French.

That being said, I can’t really say we needed more than a day in Lyon. It was great, and we enjoyed our short stint in the city, but from what I could tell, we had exhausted most of the attractions.

But we did notice there were a lot of blind people around, which we found pretty peculiar. Turns out, upon further investigation, there is a blind community located in Lyon. Who knew?

I do regret one thing about Lyon though. My friend Liz knows a girl, Celia, from Lyon and put us in contact with each other. I had asked Celia if she could meet us and show us around, which she graciously agreed to do. Though, when we were in Switzerland, I let Mack use my cell phone and a minute of talking to her family at home spent all 10 euro I had put on it. I couldn’t contact Celia, and in the end we couldn’t set up a meeting. Oh well, next time.

Some quick stories

So, as I watch Inglourious Basterds, or rather, Bastardos Sin Gloria or Bastardos Malditos, I figure I can also start writing about my trip. I think though, before detailing everywhere I went, like I usually do in a boring manner, I thought I could take my first blog entry about the trip to explain a few of the more exciting stories that happened throughout the trip. So, without further ado.

Barcelona – He Punched a Hooker

Our last night in Barcelona, Mack and I were yearning to go out. After all, in Barcelona, there is always a party, regardless of the day of the week. We had dinner at a table in the hostel were a group from WISCONSIN!!!! was sitting. After bonding over our home state, they invited us to come out with them, they were just going out to dinner and would come back to get ready and meet up with us. Sounds great! See you in a bit.

After they left I went to siesta. Let’s be honest, it was a nap. After dinner at 9pm it is no longer a siesta. It is a nap. Well, as I napped Mack bonded with some Moroccans. They invited Mack (and consequentially me too) to go out with them. Well, I guess since they are here, why wait for the fellow Wisconsinites? We can make some cultural connections. They go to get ready.

I come out to the common room of the hostel and sit down with a guy from Utah, a Brazilian, a Swede, and some Chinese girls studying in Sweden. Luckily, English is always the go to language. We chatted and hung out for a while. The guys were getting ready to go out and said I should come along. First of all, I love that pregaming is international. And, yes, of course I want to go out with you guys.

Well, that was easy, we now had 3 options of exploring Barcelona.

One thing leads to another and Mack got pregnant.

That was a lie.

So I tell Mack we were invited to go out with this group. Mack says let’s wait for the other group. We end up with 3(?) guys from Morocco, 2 girls from Madrid, the Swede (already drunk), the Brazilian (even drunker), and the guy from Utah. And we are off.

To where? Who knows where we are going? Nobody. Great.

Luckily, in big cities like Barcelona, there is always somebody trying to lure you to their bar with the promise of free entrance or a free shot or a free drink etc. A guy tells us we can go to some club, Pandamonium? Sweaty Dancy Club? Who knows. We decline, and head to an Irish pub. Fun fact, apparently Spain doesn’t understand what Irish pub means. Is it in English? Okay, awesome put it up. Ah well, at least that meant they were playing American football, the Packers no less, and serving Coronas? Okay, sure. A Corona in an Irish pub watching American football in Barcelona it is. Shots of tequila? Even better. (Don’t worry mom, I was responsible, only one beer and one shot for me.)

Okay, well we are done here, where too? Oh wait, first, let us take several pictures. Good. Okay, I think the pub staff is sufficiently annoyed with us. Pay and leave. Good. Let’s go. Oh wait, where is the guy from Utah? He knew where we were heading. Whatever.

On our way to the next place we run into… the guy from Utah! Everyone celebrates in the street. Nearby bars hear us, think we are drunker and rowdier than we are. They deny us. Good thing this chap offering us free shots to come to his bar doesn’t care, okay, everybody calm down.

Well, of course we don’t turn down the free shots. I sit down with the Madrid girls and Mack. The others go play spin the bottle with a group of Asians and French? Okay, as most people in CCC can tell you, that game just gets weird. Come on, we are old enough that bottles are not needed. The Brazilian comes over and starts running his hands through one of the Spanish girl’s hair while the Swede kind of just wanders about, looking depressed. Hmm.

Everybody done with their drinks? Good, let’s move on. Good idea, Swede, you take the drunk Brazilian home. He doesn’t look good and is stumbling. Cheers, see you tomorrow. Let’s meet up for breakfast.

Halfway to the club, the Spanish girls and I head back. I’d rather not go to a club, smell like smoke and sweat? No thanks, these clothes have to last me at least two more weeks. My body odor will do enough to make me unapproachable. Adios, hasta mañana.

The Spanish girls make our way back to the hostel. We pass a woman on the street, she looks upset, and also slutty. Something is obviously going on. Whatever, not our business. Upon making it back to Las Ramblas, we see the Swede and the Brazilian. What? We left you guys like half an hour ago. You should be back by now. The Swede sees us and runs up saying, “A hooker stole his wallet. I told him to go back and said the hooker probably stole it. We went back and then I slapped the hooker.”

Wait. Hold on. What? You slapped a hooker?

He dashes across the street, the Brazilian following him. We see the hooker we had just passed and the boys run up to her. Cops follow. Okay, not our place. Let’s just stay and watch, maybe we can find out what really happened. Oh, okay, they are getting taken to the cop station? Let’s just go back to the hostel and wait.

Never mind, it is 2am, I am not waiting anymore, I am going to sleep. I can wait until tomorrow.

I wake up, clean up and go to breakfast. The Madrid girls and I try to guess what really happened. We finally see the Swede. He confirms, someone indeed slapped or punched or kicked the hooker who they think stole the wallet. Well then, adios, off to Switzerland.

Geneva, Switzerland – Boarder Hopping

Mack asks, “So how are we getting to the hotel in Geneva?” Well, it is only a few kilometers from the airport, like less than three miles, I am sure we can catch some form of public transportation or a cheap cab ride there. Mack hesitantly agrees, that we should be fine.

We arrive in at the airport in Geneva. We go to the information desk for France. Our hotel is actually just across the border. She says, a bus runs kind of close to our town, but we would still have to walk. It’s better to just take a cab, it is night anyways. Fine, one cheap cab should be fine, we think.

Thirty five euros later, we disagree. We could have walked a few miles in the dark. Okay, let’s just drop off our stuff and walk to a restaurant, I am starving. Wait, you said the next town is a 15 minute walk away. Okay that is manageable. Oh? Everything closed half an hour ago? But it is only 7:30. Well, let’s just test it out.

No dice. She did not lie, everything is closed, we are wandering around in god knows where middle of nowhere France with no food. It is the middle of winter, it is night, I am cold. Let us just eat a big breakfast tomorrow.

Good, at least the stores open at a decent time. Breakfast was great. Okay, so now how do we get to Geneva? Okay, the lady at the desk says, we have to walk to the next town in Switzerland and catch a tram from there. Maybe a 20 minute walk.

Well, maybe a 20 minute walk when you know where you are going and it isn’t snowing. Well, at least it is beautiful. Do you think they will stamp our passports when we cross the border?

We get to Geneva. Where the hell was that border? Come on! I want a stamp from Switzerland. I walk across international borders and nobody even notices.

Paris – And he just stared at me

Being New Years Eve, we deemed it a good night to go out and enjoy some bubbly by the Eiffel Tower with the rest of the Parisians. A Brazilian notices us while getting to leave the hostel and says, “I want to go.”

“I am sorry? What?”

“I want to go. I am alone and want to go.”

“Umm, I don’t understand, do you speak another language.”

“Yes, Spanish.”

“Vale, que quieres?”

“I want to go out with you guys. I am alone and want to go to the Eiffel Tower but have nobody to go with.”

Oh, okay. Sounds good. Let me just put on a few more layers. I was freezing earlier today.

Mack lent me some long underwear, thank god. I go to my room to put it on. As I am taking off my pants to put on the underwear, another Brazilian comes in. Whatever, it is his room, too. Anyways, there is nothing to see.

He walks up to me, is about 5 feet way from me, and just watches me put on my long underwear, my pants and then belt up. Weird. Really strange. I leave, eager to go out, but more eager to avoid something like that again.

We wind up spending our night hanging out with more Brazilians. Luckily, none were as creepy as the other guy. One more thing, there are no formal fireworks at the Eiffel Tower. It just lights up at midnight. We didn’t even have a countdown. Oh well, still fun. And I got to pop open my first bottle of champagne while in Paris in front of the Eiffel Tower. Not too shabby.