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I went into Geneva yesterday! I’ve added an exclamation mark to the end of that statement because such a rare venture merits a gasp. Not that I live hours away from town; on a GTD (Good Traffic Day), my pretty little village is a mere twenty minutes from Geneva’s central Parking du Mont-Blanc. Hop on the train and you’re there in ten. Personally, however, if I’m going to hop anywhere, I’d rather hop there in my car. I know the train is more ecologically correct, but you know what, I love my car.
In my defense, please believe me when I tell you that I use Ecover household cleaning products most of the time, and have recently discovered the virtues of white vinegar and baking soda. I grow my own vegetables when the climate cooperates, and always turn off the water when I’m brushing my teeth. According to the results of a Swiss questionnaire, my carbon footprint doesn’t match my clodhopping shoe size.
Besides, as I said, I rarely go into Geneva.
So it was with a slight fizzle of excitement that I headed down there yesterday, leaving my house mid-morning to ensure easy parking under the lake. It was a lovely sunny day, albeit blowing a demented, arctic gale. At that point, however, I wasn’t concerned about the weather; I was in my car, the seat-heat turned high, the radio blaring. Traffic was smooth, and within minutes I cruised to the tail end of the eternal queue at the traffic lights in front of the World Trade Organization. This is north-eastern gateway to Geneva, the place where drivers sit for as long as it takes, drumming their steering wheels and evaluating their co-queue-ers. This is an affluent area, and people heading into town – particularly mid-morning – tend to do so in style. Take a sideways glance and chances are you’ll see a spick-and-span businessman behind the wheel of a spotless sedan, or an elegant lady in over-sized sunglasses snooting her way towards Rue du Rhône in a shiny, high-perched 4x4.
“Oh puh-lease! You wear oversized glasses! I’ve even seen photos of you wearing them on Facebook!” I hear you snigger.
Okay. Yes I do. But I’ve had those a while, dropped them once too often, so they’re horribly scratched.
“And don’t you also drive a 4x4?” you add, cocking a quizzical eyebrow.
Well, err, yes, you may have a point. But mine is mud-speckled, littered with straw, gravel, dirt, dead leaves, random wrappers, assorted shopping bags, saddle-blankets, loose CDs, dirty towels (for drying wet dogs) and mountains of dog hair. This in itself kind of cramps my style, but bare with me for the big picture. If you pull up alongside me in a traffic jam and notice that my nostrils are pinched, I’m not being snooty. I’m just enduring the inevitable fragrance of “Pooh de Pooch”, or its lighter, everyday version, “Pooch Humide” that has permeated my X3s long-suffering seats.
Anyway, there I was, singing along to Lady Gaga, gliding into town in my smelly, mud-speckled car. The WTO traffic jam was a piece of cake, and I arrived for my massage fifteen minutes early.
“What?! A massage?!”, you squeal, curling your lip. I can see your eyes rolling away down the street, lumping me with the shiny elegant, mid-morning ladies.
Please! Wait! Listen! Let me finish! This was NOT a tinkly music, swooningly pleasant, spa-style massage. This was a grit-your-teeth-and-hang-on-for-grim-death-while-your-knots-explode, sixty-minute ordeal. My massage man doesn’t faff about with chakra-coordinated organic oils; he’s a tough cookie who slaps on some lotion and finds the nitty-gritty that lies below. I’ve been to him for treatment a couple of times and, until yesterday, had always come out feeling like I’d been run over by a steam-roller. However, the long term effects of his expert manhandling have obliterated my back problems, so I’ve decided to endure him once a month.
Having been prodded and mashed for an hour, I sat up gingerly, tested my balance, and realized that, this time, I didn’t feel utterly done in. Sure, I was a little out of it, but after a nice cup of herbal tea and a short chat with my torturer, I felt pleasantly energized. Consequently, I decided to make the most of my urban excursion and have a quick walk around the shops.
It was now almost lunch time, and central Geneva was buzzing with Blackberried banker businessmen and impeccably groomed fashionistas in high heels, all somehow managing to look fetchingly tousled in a blow-your-head-off meteorological bedlam. Among them there was me, squinting into the wind as my mascara ran down the pavement, sporting a massage-lotion-soiled, straggly ponytail. “Think yourself chic,” I urged myself, pulling my shoulders down my back as I scurried towards Globus department store, feeling more wind-ravaged by the second.
It was more than just a feeling. Catching my reflection in a mirror at one of the shop’s cosmetic counters, I gasped. My hair was a mess, my eyes were running, my glasses were steamed up and my ill-timed runny nose uncontrollably insistent on blowing bubbles. I certainly didn’t fit in with all the dignified ladies slinking up the up escalator, shopping for cashmere.
“Oh, well,” I told myself, cheerily. “Instead of going up to ladies fashions, I’ll just nip downstairs to the food department. Yes, that’s what I’ll do! I’ll go and grab something nice for diner!” This was exciting; I’d heard great things about the food hall at Globus, but never yet seen it for myself.
Blimey! It was like being in Harrods, albeit on a smaller scale. I could have spent hours in there, looking at all the amazing, beautifully packaged, shockingly expensive products. I picked up two dinky pots of rocket pesto, a packet of very special spaghetti (apparently hand-rolled under an Italian prince’s armpits), some San Daniele prosciutto, a very small, perfectly formed leg of lamb, a packet of potatoes, two blocks of Belgian chocolate and a packet of tissues made from Egyptian cotton. My trolley was virtually empty, but compared to my elegant fellow-shoppers, I appeared to be planning a major pig-out!
It was when the cashier announced how much my bill came to that I realized why those ladies were making do with a packet of designer salad, an organic lemon and a slither of salmon. They were saving their pennies for cashmere, killer heels, wind-proof hair, and daily trips to the car wash.
But to each their own, right?
I flashed my credit card, blew my nose in the Egyptian cotton tissues, tossed my straggly ponytail, picked up my shopping bag, retrieved my mud-speckled, dog-scented car, slapped on my scratched sunglasses and escaped to the country.
Lots of love,
Francesca
PS: For the record, last night’s dinner was delicious. Dressed in track pants and an old (cashmere!) sweater, my feet happily spread-eagled in my Ugg slippers, I served the perfectly formed leg of lamb with roast potatoes and fresh carrots. Tonight we’ll be sampling the Italian prince’s special spaghetti, slicked with rocket pesto and freshly grated Parmesan. How about you?
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At 08:07:33 on Wednesday, March 10, 2010, Paola wrote:
That is so nice of you to invite us to dinner. Is it ok if we turn up at around 7.30?..... ;-) Love it. Made my day.
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At 11:47:49 on Wednesday, March 10, 2010, Philippa wrote:
God, I'm hungry now! Welcome to the world of Geneva, you country bumpkin!! ;-) xx
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At 11:59:32 on Wednesday, March 10, 2010, Jude wrote:
Hey Cesca! A wonderful addition to a wonderful site... can I do dinner too? Take care, Jude
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At 13:07:10 on Wednesday, March 10, 2010, Elise Chidley wrote:
Very vivid! I could just picture you out there wrestling with the urban elements! I'm a country girl at heart too, and when I come up out of Grand Central in Manhattan I always feel like a mole blinking up a the sky-scrapers.
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At 13:30:01 on Wednesday, March 10, 2010, blodeuedd wrote:
Fun post :D That dinner sounds great too. Aww Geneva, we live in snow-rain misery
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At 15:23:21 on Wednesday, March 10, 2010, Loraine wrote:
Cesca! Of course now I'm wondering if all or some of those high stratosphere always together women actually feel the way you did when they're out. ;-) Loved this glimpse into Geneva!
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At 15:51:37 on Wednesday, March 10, 2010, Phoebe Matthews wrote:
This sounds all too familiar. When I spend the day hitting the grocery and drugstore, my face and hair stay put. But let me meet a friend any place elegant, or worse, have my friend introduce me to someone I would like to impress, and yeah, you got it. Loved the piece, Francesca! You hit a familiar cord. Must add, I am glad you picked up good chocolate. That's my idea of the best medicine.
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At 16:02:10 on Wednesday, March 10, 2010, Sabina wrote:
Hiya! Great piece - Country Mouse hitting the City! Long live us country bumpkins who actually need a 4x4 car! Keep your Globus habit under tight control - its dangerously addictive.....Asian Country Mouse. x x
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At 18:43:47 on Wednesday, March 10, 2010, Kate wrote:
Thx Cesca.... you made me laugh and feel better about the state of my car!! x x
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At 19:33:07 on Wednesday, March 10, 2010, Ned wrote:
What is rocket pesto??
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At 16:40:56 on Thursday, March 11, 2010, April Wendy Hollands wrote:
Cesca, you do make me chuckle. I do agree that a decent massage is the one that hurts the most but leaves you feeling GREAT for days after. My jaunts to Geneve revolve around airport pick-ups and Quorn products since France has a strict No Vegetarian Products policy, apparently.
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At 22:07:02 on Thursday, March 11, 2010, Beatrice Trigo da Silva wrote:
Just a little test to check if this time it functions....
Hi Beatrice! I guess it does :) Merci d'être passée chez moi! xx Francesca
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At 03:43:57 on Friday, March 12, 2010, Mona Risk wrote:
Cesca, I was picturing Geneve and the lake while reading your funny report. My cousin who is a big addict to massage dragged me there last week. I loved it. For an hour I was in seventh heaven while being kneaded in all directions.
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At 07:03:41 on Friday, March 12, 2010, Francesca wrote:
Loraine: haha! I bet a lot of women probably do :)
Phoebe: isn't that always the way?!
Kate: your car looked pretty clean when I saw you yesterday. But then I didn't peek inside!
xx Francesca
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At 07:06:21 on Friday, March 12, 2010, Francesca wrote:
Jude: thank you. You're welcome to come for dinner anytime. Just hop on a plane... Paola: you can come BACK for dinner anytime! Elise: what? You? A mole in Manhattan?! No way, you're far to glamourous. And famous! Can't wait to read your new book :) xx Francesca
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At 07:08:53 on Friday, March 12, 2010, Francesca wrote:
Blodeudd: it's snowing here again today. I think we're channelling Finland...
Sabina: well, you're the Mrs Guetta of Terre-Sainte, so of course you need a 4x4 to get to all those winter parties. One with a chauffeur, naturellement!
Ned: rocket pesto is...pesto made with rucola/rocket instead of basil. It's an olive oil based sauce. Hmm, I wonder what they make it with in Hawaii...
Pippa: you certainly didn't look like a country bumpkin the other night! Ooh lala!
xx Francesca
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At 07:10:57 on Friday, March 12, 2010, Francesca wrote:
Hi Mona!
Would you believe I'm still aching a little from my super-massage the other day! Congratulations on the sale of your new book :) Have you ever thought of setting one here in Geneva?
xx Francesca
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At 11:33:15 on Monday, March 15, 2010, Sheryl Browne wrote:
Relax, dahling! They probably guessed you were just another dressed down celeb out shopping. :) Just off to chill some Chablis to wash down my caviar. Haw. Haw. Nice one, Cesca. Ta for the laugh. Sorry about the late comment, btw. My pc wasn't playing ball and wouldn't let me in. xx
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At 08:00:20 on Tuesday, March 16, 2010, Savanna wrote:
You and I have some things in common when I make it into town, except it's just a small city... heck, I might at well be coming in from Mars, the way I end up feeling among city dwellers now. Nope, I don't spend much on gas and my lifestyle is energy-minimal... not because I believe in the whole green thing because, actually, I don't, as it's sold and advertised. As a natural organic lifestyle, however, yes, I do!!! Egyptian cotton tissues... wow, I never knew such a thing existed. I should have known, though. Belgian chocolate... that's my style! And dinner does sound delicious... I dunno about the armpit pasta. I might pass on that... lol...
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