Frozen in Geneva
I wanted to scream. I could feel my blood vessels shrinking further, tightening their walls to stop the blood flow. This is the plight of Raynaud's disease.
If you've never heard of this charming affliction, it sounds worse than it is.
In times of extreme cold, or stress, the blood vessels to my outer extremities constrict to prioritise my vital organs. My body believes it's freezing to death. On a good day, my fingers and toes will go numb and turn ghostly white. On a bad day, they burn, asphyxiating themselves and turning blue.
So with burning hands and a growling stomach, I ventured into the clinical streets of Geneva.
I had been avoiding going into the city for quite a few days. I was dogsitting an Australian Shepherd about 20 minutes away from the centre. Given the -3 degree mornings, I had found my first couple of days quite the struggle.
Beyond walking the dog and feeding the chickens which gave me some spikes of joy, I preferred to stay in and work with several long naps in between. For once I had no desire to explore.
Another reason I wasn't keen to go into Geneva will become clear shortly.
So there I was. My fingers warned me that any minute now they would drop off. I walked passed the enormous Prada, and shuddered at the site of myself in the pristine window. If I've felt at home almost everywhere in France so far, this certainly wasn't home. The streets were spotless. Not a drop of gum nor any other kind of droppings. The shop windows glistened. My footsteps echoed on large empty pavements. As I said, it felt clinical.
But it can't be all bad can it?
Everything would be better with a full belly, I thought.
So I sat down in the main square and ate at one of the legendary Swiss restaurants there - La Pomme d'Or.
Coca cola
Swiss cheese fondue with potato and pickles
€55
Yes you read that right. Fifty five glorious Swiss Francs for small pieces of bread and melted cheese.
I was determined to enjoy it though. I twirled my bread into the cheese a thousand times and stuffed my cheeks like a chipmunk.
My dining drew eyeballs from the tables around me. It could've been the fact I had melting cheese all over or that I was eating from the fondue fork (a faux pas by all accounts). An older couple were charmed by my glee, pretended to join me as they passed. We giggled. At least out in the warm sun, my fingers could thaw and I could continue my walk.
Geneva confused me. There are old buildings but they are so immaculate, they bear no signs of wear and tear. Granted, Switzerland has not been the centre of any wars by choice, so this has helped the architecture stay untouched all these years. But I did find the display of canons and suspended origami poppies befuddling for a neutral nation.
Still in general, I saw Geneva like a rare jewel. Something so beautiful but so expensive you don't want to engage with it.
But the expenses were the least of my problems. I was disconnected. No internet. No GPS. No calls. Nothing. Since reaching Switzerland, my mobile data refused to work. I was paying €8 a day for the privilege of being completely lost in a city I don't even like.
Pole dancing was okay, but the issue of getting back to the house and the dog in my care loomed over me the entire time. I had no idea how I would get there.
Feeling desperate, I managed to catch a whiff of stray public WiFi to get the GPS started. Great - just 17minutes.
I pulled out my car and there it hit me:
The longest line of crawling traffic you've ever seen.
Now I don't mind traffic. But I mind when I have no internet connection, struggling GPS, and one hour to get back to the house before the dog loses its mind.
It took me an hour and a half to make a 17 minute journey.
Suffice to say, I didn't go into town again. And I won't be returning to Geneva until I make my millions.
Ta ta for now,
Olivia
