LE DESIGN II

By far the most compelling graphic design I saw while I was in Geneva had to be the guerilla artwork I discovered hidden on poles, alleys and secluded walls mostly off the beaten path. While most were obviously overtly political and aimed at the neo-fascist American agenda and complacent citizenry, others were more oblique, offering no real explanation at all, which made them all the more fascinating. Tagging was prevalent and usually pointless, though there were some excellent examples of illustrative artwork there for the taking, the leaping Spiderman a particularly clever example.

LE DESIGN

Back in college I had a British, Swiss-educated designer who had to be about the most unenthusiastic educator I’d ever met. Nevertheless, grid theory was forever blazoned on my brain and took me years to get over, if I ever really did. What poster work and design I did see was almost exactly what I expected, clean and precise with a few things bordering on edgy, something most Swiss designers probably feel compelled to be anything but. Have to admit the cow yoga thing fascinated me in a kind of repellent way.

SWIMMING

Reasonably priced at around five American dollars, the pool facilities here are what you'd expect from a country like this—superb. I think most Canadian facilities and a handful of American ones come close to the anal-retentive attention given to the cleanliness of these facilities. Sexes have their own locker rooms and every individual has their own private changing closet that you enter on one side a main area and enter the locker/shower portion from the other. After entering the locker area bare feet are mandatory and require a rinse off in a special foot-shower section before going on deck.

Both pools I’ve swam at, the Piscine des Vernets, which is 50m and the Piscine de Varembé, strangely measured 33m (only swam in one other like that in Wellington, NZ) both pools are six lanes with two or three lanes are reserved for lap swimming with no noticeable differentiation on speed or ability, though when I went swimming on Thursday at the 50m pool a club was doing a masters workout and they were pretty fast. I’ve been showing up before, during and after the lunch hours, so it's important to note here that the Swiss take their lunches seriously, often closing up shop from 12-1:30, so like most places in the USA the pool gets more crowded, only here it's on this level of absurdity that combined with the no-holds-barred swimming free for all is beyond my limited comprehension.

Both pools have bonus 25m outdoor pools and since I didn't really know about them last week I decided to swim in the outdoor pool today Piscine de Varembé. This pool has no lane lines which I knew in advance and was hoping for some space away from the hoards of cruising biking lad breastrokers and sloppy freestylers. Lucky me, even though it was noon I had section to myself, but it wasn't particularly warm today and the water is a bit chilly at 73 degrees. Regardless, it was perfect and the water was crystal clear. I got about a mile finished before a legion of people filled the pool and I was somewhat prepared since I had slipped into an open area near a lane on Friday when the 33m had nine slow swimmers in it at once and was able to have a decent workout by swimming next to the lane line. Today I was mobbed and nothing could prepare me for being surrounded by four people in the space of about one lane, swimming directly at each other and myself with the strategy of swerving out of the way when someone happens to be heading towards them. This organizational nightmare is considered the norm in a country that basically runs perfect like the those fancy timepieces made here. No one seemed to mind because no one was really trying all that hard. So there I was in my pirate-skull swim cap attempting get a work out in but really only on alert the whole time because wherever I was, someone was either coming at me or right next to me. I don't know what the miracle is that keeps people from colliding in massive heaps and injuring one another, but I was getting chilly and had just about enough when another guy decided to climb in thinking the six-inch space between me and the woman next to me was just perfect for him to squeeze into.

So I get my shit and head indoors planning to finish in those lap lanes and the crowd there at around 10 per lane is pretty overwhelming too. I should mention no one talks to each other at all, it's pretty much everyone for themselves, so the social scene is about nil unless you're one of the old people having social time in the open area. People were passing each other all over the place and I gave up trying to make sense of it. Lunch hour was passing so I hoped things would clear out. I just got in and tried to make the best of it. Like lap swimming back home most of the time no one allows faster swimmers to pass at the walls so I was doing the same perpetually passing-all-the-time shit too, finding it mostly impossible to get Zen and have a good meditation. I finished my distance (about 3.5k) and got the hell out, taking the time to watch an instructor giving lessons to people that looked like the blind leading the blind.

So the news is that lap swimming is probably a crapshoot wherever you go, though I think the Aussies were the most organized.

GENEVA (NIGHT)

After hiking fondeu dinner, then a stroll through Geneva’s old city center at night. Rosseau, Borges, Calvin, Voltaire all lived here at one time or another. Top photo is where Matt Damon’s character in Syrianna supposedly lived.

GENEVA AND MONTREUX

I slept like a rock. Powering through a day in another time zone is a lot better than napping or making fake sleep. Maria had left for work already; so today I after my Euro breakfast of muesli and yogurt and watched the brief downpour outside. Then I was off to some 50m pool a half-hour walk from the apartment, which I might add is small, but has an excellent view and next to the toilet a bidet—unused.

Streets in Geneva are willy-nilly and the map I was using complete disregarded any sense of scale and distance. The city is absolutely charming and clean, I mean anal. I walked across to bridges and glanced down at the silty grey rivers below and saw not a single scrap of trash on the banks or in any branches of trees dipped into the water. In the USA and most developing countries it’d look like a toilet bowl no one flushed for a week. In Mexico, rivers get so polluted that if yr near a beach after a rainstorm the surf is filled with trash for days. It’s disgusting. But not here. Mere hints of litter and hardly any graffiti. It’s nice to see tax money doing something actually beneficial more reflective of civic pride rather than spending billions fighting fruitless wars over oil. They do things right like that here. People are taken care of, given great health care and a reasonable amount of five weeks vacation. It’s expensive to live here but so are the States.

The pool was immaculate as well, with private changing rooms and shared public space near lockers, so no nudity anywhere but the nudie booths. You’re required to wash the feet before entering the pool in a special foot-shower section. The three lap lanes that were open were filled and the one lifeguard that spoke English (or wanted to) gave me some tips and I ended up in a kinda fast lane near a damn good team, which paced me nicely. Afterwards I went outside to a sunning area and took nap on the hot cement, waking up to topless women around me, which is always nice.

I headed back, stopping by an appliance store to get a power converter for my electronic equipment, hoping to god it worked. I checked out the arts posters and political art slapped on walls that’s about the only guerrilla message allowed, the substitute for marker and spray paint tags I guess. A nice trade off. Had a kebob and ice cream taking my time getting back to the apt for a nap and finding out the power converter doesn’t work at all with my laptop or iPod chargers. My power is running out.

When Maria came home it was off by train following lake Geneva all the way to nearby Montreux, where the Jazz festival was winding down over the weekend. This town is filled with some of the most expensive and beautiful hotel accommodations in the area, catering to the richey rich and musical clientele. We wandered the crowed-filled lakeside promenade with some of the most amazing fair food I’ve ever seen, some of it cooked in these huge wok-like pans filled with delicious looking starchy plates of hash browns and ham, or curries, or pastas. We settled on some decent Thai and the ominous clouds that had been building started off with thunder and lightning and onto torrential downpour. What a wonderful scene of beautiful European people smoking like chimneys, I expected to see someone famous but no such luck. We hung out for awhile in a bar drinking mineral waters and listening to a jazz ensemble under a tent, leaving when the rain let up to get some chocolate waffles and then into a free jazz club since getting into the B52’s or Pet Shop Boys that night was next to impossible. The rain had reached a state of impossible inconvenience without an umbrella, so we had some coffee at a small café then headed home, the evening in Geneva cool, a bit balmy and with none of the inclement weather we’d left an hour away.