We caught the early train to Geneva, because the journey from Zermatt was 4.5 hours long. Zermatt was mostly Italian speaking, being right on the border of Italy. As we travelled North-west, the main language changed to German and then closer to Geneva suddenly changed to French. This country is a melting pot of culture, and the language is so indicative of that. There is an endemic Swiss language called Romash, derived from Latin, but these days it is only used by 0.5 percent of the population.

The train journey took us along the banks of Lake Geneva, or Lac Leman to the locals, One of the largest lakes in Western Europe, which covers 580 square kilometres. The border of France and Switzerland runs directly down the middle of this 73 kilometre long lake, meaning that 60% of the lake is Swiss and 40% French.

We arrived just after lunch, and fortunately our hotel was very close to the train station; less than a five minute walk. The area in which our hotel was located was a funky place, with live music on the street right outside and restaurants everywhere.

We wasted no time and got out amongst it immediately, taking a walk around Geneva. This picturesque city sits around the Eastern shore of Lake Geneva, with mountains embracing it on every side, including the famous Mont Blanc. We began our walk with the Brunswick monument. This impressive mausoleum, built by a duke in 1879 in the gothic style, was constructed in return for leaving his fortune to the city, which they used to build a theatre. We then walked to the lakeside to see the Jet d’Eau, the iconic water jet that shoots water at 200 km/h up to 140 metres into the air from the lake.

We crossed a bridge into the old town and spent the afternoon wandering around this lovely city, with its famous floral clock, ancient cathedral and distinctive French architecture.

That evening, Rob, Caitlynne and myself went out to a typically Swiss restaurant recommended by the concierge where apparently they served the best fondue. Lidia faked an injury to avoid eating cheese and elected to stay in the hotel. Au Petit Chalet specialised in cheese fondue, and we had waited until Geneva to try this national dish, since we were told that they do the best fondue in Geneva, being a French dish. Our waiter brought a gas hotplate to our table, then placed a red enamel pot full of melted Swiss cheese on it. We used the provided long, metal skewers to stab pieces of crusty bread, which we swirled around in the cheese and then ground a bit of black pepper over. It was very much like eating toasted cheese sandwiches and it was delicious.

Rob and I followed up the fondue with rosti, which is another Swiss dish resembling a giant, plate-sized hash brown, topped with an egg and cooked in a wood oven. They added pickles before serving. They were also very good, but talk about carb overload!

The next morning Lidia was feeling a little better, but Caitlynne wasn’t, and Rob, Lidia and I left her to rest in the hotel while we explored Geneva. We had noticed a small train driving around the roads of the old town the previous day and thought that might be a good idea. We found the starting point just as the driver turned up. We were the only three on the train, which was able to drive into all of the hard-to-get places in the old town. They took us past the impressive opera house and the Reformer’s Wall, a 100 metre long wall carved with statues of the men responsible for the reformation in Switzerland, where Calvin introduced the protestant faith and provided refuge for victims of religious persecution. When the ride ended, we hopped off the train and there were some Americans waiting to get on for the next trip. They turned to the driver and said “Hello!” The driver yelled out “Goodbye!” and walked off down the bridge! Obviously, it was morning coffee time, but the poor Americans were left scratching their heads in bewilderment.

We then took a bus out to the western part of the city, where the head offices of many of the worlds influential organisations are located. We passed the head offices of the Red Cross, the World Trade Organisation, Unicef, the World Health Organisation and many others. We finished at the United Nations, in front of which is a moving monument to the victims of land mines and cluster bombs, a massive three-legged chair. This has been placed outside the United Nations as a reminder to visiting politicians and diplomats.

That evening, being our last night in Switzerland, we decided that we had to eat Swiss food again and so went back to Au Petit Chalet, being the most highly rated Swiss restaurant in the area. Just before we left the hotel a massive thunderstorm hit, and the rain started pouring down. We grabbed some umbrellas from reception and headed out into the storm. The streets were running rivers, and our shoes were soaked in no time flat. We headed to the restaurant, only to find that they were fully booked. We decided to find somewhere else to eat and while we were waiting to cross the street, a car drove through the water flooding down the gutters. The water splashed onto our feet, making them even more wet. The next car, a considerate BMW driver, slowed right down so as not to wet anybody on the footpath. Then a wanker in a Porsche SUV swerved directly into the water and planted their foot, throwing a massive wave of water all over us and soaking us right up to our waists. It was clearly intentional.

We quickly grabbed some Chinese takeaway and went back to the hotel to eat it. We took our soaked clothes down to the concierge and asked if they could dry them since we were leaving in the morning. At 9:00pm they still hadn’t brought our clothes back, so I rang them, only to find that they hadn’t been dried at all, so we had to pick them up and hang them around the room, hoping they’d dry overnight.

In the morning, our clothes being passably dry, we filled our Kleen Kanteen water bottles, packed up and took the train to the Geneva airport for our flight to Greece. When we arrived at the security checkpoint, we realised they were taking water off people (I know, we should have known better). I quickly drank down one litre of water, feeling very water-logged when the last drop was gone. Then I turned to Lidia who was upset that she was going to have to throw her water bottle out. There was no way she was going to be able to drink one litre of water, so I took her bottle and started chugging it down.  We were right at the conveyor belt with still half a bottle of water left and I was starting to feel unwell. With no time left, I took the lid off and poured the remaining water down my throat, half of it running down my front like the Solo Man. I saved both of our water bottles, as I sloshed through the security checkpoint, feeling decidedly ill.

The Mahaba lounge at Geneva Airport was great. There was hardly anybody in there and Rob and I quickly realised they had a huge selection of top shelf liquors. It was only 10:00am, and despite my objections, Rob pressured me into making a vodka and pineapple. My arm is still sore where he twisted it. Anyway, it had to be 5:00 somewhere! After clinking our glasses and downing our drinks, we walked into another section of the lounge to see that they had a beer tap there, where you could pour your own beer! This was definitely an opportunity too good to pass up, so we each poured a beer to chase down the vodka. Needless to say, as I type this blog on the plane, after drinking two litres of water, a vodka and pineapple and then a beer in the space of an hour, I’ve been to the toilet twice and need to go again!

Additional note: We just arrived at the Athens lounge and Caitlynne just opened her backpack. My jaw hit the floor as she pulled out her full water bottle, which she took through the Geneva airport without being questioned.

So that wraps up our trip to Switzerland! We are now off the Greece to meet Dennis and Linda, so more blogs to come. Before I sign off on the Swiss tour, Rob has been complaining his face off about my blogs, stating that his version of events differs from mine. In the spirit of fairness, I decided to give him right of reply. The following is copied verbatim from Rob. I cannot verify it as being based on fact in any way or confirm or deny any of the fanciful stories that follow. A word from Rob:

I have been asked to write a guest piece for Scott’s blog. I am delighted to take this opportunity, partly because I can to contribute to a wonderful product, and partly because I can now clarify some scurrilous comments and accusations that have been made about me. And when I say clarify, what I really mean to say is to tell the actual truth. 

Scott has very beautifully described the scenery, sites, experiences and people we have encountered so I won’t expand on that, save to say Switzerland has been breathtaking, like travelling through a snow globe with postcard scenery everywhere. The only drawback is I will have to sell a kidney when I return to pay for that part of the trip.  Caitlynne and I have loved every minute, after having caught up briefly in Rome, and then continuing our travels together from Milan about a week later. Our experiences in Italy with the Popovic’s has been wonderful, made so much easier with all the planning already done, down to the hour almost.  Thanks Lidia. It has been an absolute joy and pleasure to enjoy their company throughout the trip.

Italy was much easier travelling with someone who speaks the language, and made more humorous by observing someone who tries but often butchers the local tongue. I will leave you to work out who was fluent and who was not.  Not to give it away but it was Scott.  Like the time a conversation ensued, and he asked Lidia what the person was saying – “I don’t know idiot, he is speaking Spanish.”  “Well, they are practically the same language.” Yeah right.

Scott has mentioned on a few occasions snow fights that have taken place, and the fact that I may have forfeited one and been beaten soundly in the others.  For those of you who know both Scott and I, you will know that the snow fights have hardly been a challenge for me.  This saga commenced on the first occasion we saw snow, when I was walking along peacefully with my wife, taking in the wonders of the sights and the serenity, when I felt something land on the back of my coat. Unsure what it was, I then heard what I thought was a giddy schoolgirl laughing. I turned around to see that there was some snow on me, and the laughing was coming from Scott.  He had thrown a snowball at me from behind with all his might, which of course felt like not much more than a butterfly landing on my back. Game on. My retaliation has been swift each time this has occurred, I say retaliation because Scott has always taken the opportunity to attack (I say attack but it is akin to a cotton ball being piffed at me) when I haven’t been watching. Of course, he is equipped with the knowledge that my many years of cricket make my right arm like a lethal weapon. So, to say 3-0 with one forfeit has been somewhat of a stretch, “gilding the lily” a touch, or more accurately, a complete and utter lie. Needless to say, solicitors have been engaged for libel proceedings.

Anyway, after each time I have taught Scott a lesson, which has ended with him running to Lidia for protection (that didn’t stop me by the way), he has promised not to instigate these scuffles. A vow he has broken mind you. 

All I can say is lucky it doesn’t snow in Greece.  I may have to kick sand in his face if he attacks again.