Its probably me.....

So....here are strange times indeed....feels like full circle.
Hotel I'm booked in is as much a 3 star as I'm a 3 star general...nevermind, first thing was to fix the wallsocket to wack in some juice to the top, then remove the top of the toilet to fix the system...only then could I finally lie down and...ok, the TV is so small that aint gonna work...
I needed a booking quickly and the address fitted the bill as did the price..5 minutes from palexpo and 5 minutes from the more than important meeting.

So. Geneva.Place of birth. Weird...very very strange feeling to arrive at an airport so familiar but only in another time scale where Dad would be waiting for me. He looked almost legendary tall back then and commanded my respect as all Dads should...(strive too anyway)..
This time I was standing alone almost waiting for him to walk up. He's past on now so that wasn't on the cards. Airport still the same. Details in the memory bank always surprises after 26 years, alcohol, drugs, concussions, motorcycle accidents, car crashes...and yet I still remembered those details from all those years ago..and it was strange..nothing to fill that void where he once stood..

So, threw the bags in the hotel once the bitsnbobs were fixed and headed out to go for a walk and do some recon for food. I only made it 100 meters up the road. I also realised that the hotel I was staying in was obvioulsy for those of us that have lived in Kortadala and not had a problem with "those" people...if you get what I'm sayin'..

I walked into a restaurant and had a spy.The woman behind the bar was complaining about the people traffic and explained that she would not serve me the "plat de jour"...she smelled the tourist, or so she thought...everybody seemed to have so much bling bling on them I wondered if 50 cents had finally left some kind of legacy...this seems to be the Swiss way, mucho bling, bracelets, rings, tacky shit if you ask me..I ordered a meal that I hadn't had for the same amount of years that I'd been travellin', "fillet de perche" covered in herbs and such.Amazing...once again the rather tedious story of Dad always buying it bla bla...but such was the case and he would be around in the short time I would be here as he was my only connection to the city of my birth.

Despite informing that I could indeed understand the lingo I still had the comedy set up of miss campervan blingbling asking the younger waitress to inform me of just about everything.
Early night, just can't understand why they dub...that I really don't miss....and so much as well! La Swede, douze points for not dubbing!!!!

Meeting done and dusted I went for a walk.Despite the boy at reception looking like his kin had once come from dafur he was surprised when I informed him that I would be walking the 3,5 km into Geneve..He seemed very impressed...youth of today I suppose..

Walking down the street and a lot came back from the brain foundations to the front of the forehead, as well as some querys...u know, the usual..for a start, I nearly stepped in dogshit...fuck me, must one mine sweep in Switzerland!?! Of course, the land of banks, chocolate and nose in the air is as everywhere else except for Sweden, only human in the fact that picking up dogshit isn't a hobby as it is in Sweden...although, having to minesweep and dodge reminds me of the days in Scotland, full time occupation walking down the high street...an art of the century...

Geneva in my opinion, is a...hmmm...to keep it simple and laymans terms as I'm not bright enough to come up with a fancy pants word...Geneva is a contradition. Thats it. The whole shebang is one huge contradiction..now things get tricky, a contradiction of what?..well, its a contradiction of a stereotype ideology that I feel we have about this rather interesting " neutral " caymans situated in the middle of Europe..
You kinda get the idea is that everybody is kinda well off, have nice watches and eat fondu keep everything clean and structured...anal in a way ..Riches anal with nice banks and watches...
But the reality is very different...There is a horrible gap between the non contradictional stereotype and humans that are living here..so the poor, the tramps, homeless, gypys all hang around and bring back memoirs of Cluj Napoka in Romania as opposed to Geneva..No shit, wheres the horse and hat...sharpen the Knives...then you start noticing how many non caucation people are walking around...like, this is turning Tarantino and the speech about Moors fucking and interbreeding so much the Italians go dark from fair...The Swiss are dark, almost Romani style...and the housing surround the centre looks ....well, looks out of place...

Now then , its late, I'm hitting the sack so I'll continue another day....