The picture of Geneva shows the famous, "Jet d'Eau". The French term is used in English, probably because using the translation ("Waterjet") would be so completely obvious that it wouldn't sound very exotic at all. Given the lingering suspicion that it might make a good bidet for a Tyrannosaurus Rex as well, it's probably best to stay with what sounds flash, at least to anglophones.

 

Not a lot of the book takes place in Geneva, even if it is the second largest city in Switzerland after Zürich. Geneva’s appearance is largely limited to the arrival of Jessica, Harris and Alice in its airport, their descent into the railway station beneath that airport, and their swift departure from it eastwards, into the rest of Switzerland. Although the city of Geneva encompasses the Old Town and the Cathedral of St Peter, the United Nations, the Jet d’Eau and many other attractions, all which really appears in the book is the famous Lake Geneva itself and a verbal brawl next to a ticket machine. It’s not edifying but that’s artistic license for you.

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The issue I have with Geneva is not that it panders to the tourists in a tacky way. Sure, there are the plastic cows and naff chalets at exorbitant rates but they’re not everywhere and no more over the top than in Zürich, Bern, Basel and so on. Certainly, if you’re looking for drugs, prostitutes, “gentlemen’s clubs” or whatever else you call a good time, you can get all you need, roughly between the main railway station and where the local Church of England happens to be located. Quite handy really, if you want to pray for forgiveness immediately before or after you sin. A bit like religion’s answer to fast food. But the tacky bits are not overdone and even despite all this, what I find frustrating about Geneva is that it’s a nice enough town and part of Switzerland but it just doesn’t feel like the bits where I want to be.

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You may be wondering, of course, so it doesn’t feel quite so Swiss, perhaps because there are so many foreigners ? Well, what’s this little whiner on about ? He’s hardly Heidi’s great-grandson himself. But wait – that’s not it. I can manage a bit of multiculturalism, you know. The problem I face is that if you look north, and especially if you look south towards the Alps,  in fact even if you look east towards the start of the Swiss Alps, you can see all these great mountains. However, they’re on the horizon and you can’t get there. At least, not without a powerful car or a quite lengthy journey. You’re in Switzerland, just not the bit where you want to be if you’re a hiker. It’s like going to the world’s greatest sweet shop when you’ve got tortuous toothache. Or hanging out in a top notch strip club while being forced to wear a T-shirt in rainbow colours with “I’m gay” written on the front. Or so they tell me. I wouldn’t know myself, of course.

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Geneva itself was liberated from French rule in 1813 and has stayed as a Canton in its own right, if part of Switzerland, since then. If it had stayed put, then it might have expanded to cover the whole of the land between the Saléve range of hills to the south and the Jura mountains to the north. However, the intervening area is notably Catholic while Geneva remains a Protestant Canton. It’s such a shame when religion comes between you and your hiking.

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