Geneva Gibber

I don’t particularly feel like writing today, but I have nothing else to do (or nothing else I want to do). Plus I’ve been a giant blogging slacker. I will do my best to be entertaining, even in my uninspired state, because I feel a sense of obligation to provide all of you with a procrastination option at work. (Oh, but for those days that I don’t write, which will probably be the rest of this week, I highly recommend wasting away your work day at Dave Eggers McSweeny’s. Just be careful not to laugh out loud, or people will suspect that you aren’t toiling away at a spreadsheet like you’re supposed to.)

But back to me and my oh so riveting life. Frisbee friend Kacey arrived on Thursday night and we headed out to frisbee practice, so I could run off all of the anger that had built up during the US/Ghana match. (By the way, the Ghanaian fans around us were without a doubt the most insulting, obnoxious fans I have ever watched a sports event with. Ghana is officially my least favorite team in the World Cup.) After practice we had a beer with a couple of guys from my team at the sports complex bar. I’ve had a beer at this bar five or six times now, and I still can’t get over my amusement and glee at the idea of a bar built right into the sports facilities. How smart is it to put athletic fields and bars together, embracing the fact that adult athletes are really just participating in sports, so afterwards they can have a reason to go to the bar on a weekday night. Think of all the money Chicago Parks and Recreation could make if they put in bars right by all the softball fields… someone should look into my plan, save the tax payers a pretty penny.

On Friday night, Kacey and I ventured out to my coworkers going away party, hosted by her two older brothers. The party was 80% Swedes, which meant it was 100% great. Scandinavians are good people. (I realize that my Danish friends reading this may be upset by my lumping them in with Swedes, but frankly I have yet to meet a Scandinavian I didn’t like, Swedish, Danish, Norwegian, or Finnish.) There was lots of tasty wine and champagne at the party plus very social people who went out of their way to make Kacey and I feel welcome. Gunner, my friend’s older brother, even offered to show me the lively Geneva nightlife that I (and all of my friends) have been unable to find. He was a little tipsy when he made the offer, so I’m not sure if he’ll actually follow through on it, but it was a nice gesture nonetheless.

Saturday wasn’t particularly exciting. We slept in, went to the park, watched the Sweden/Germany game (I was rooting for Sweden after the Swedish hospitality from the night before, so they inevitably lost.) Then everyone took a nap and awoke to a thunderstorm, which we all agreed was a sign that we should skip the bars that night. We stayed in, splitting a couple bottles of wine and playing a rousing game of Gin Rummy. I, of course, proved my superior ability at collecting three of kinds and small straights, crushing the competition. The fools… they should have given up and conceded defeat the moment I told them my parents met at a bridge tournament. Cards are in my blood, and no contest demands the mind of a card shark like a game of Gin Rummy.

Sunday, Kacey and I had big plans to take a day trip to Annecy, France, as we had both heard that it was beautiful and only a short trip from Geneva. Turns out, the short trip was an hour and half long, and by the time we would have arrived we would have had two and half hours to see the city before the last train back. Somehow, it didn’t seem worth it. So we went to Lausanne, Switzerland instead, which is about 45 minutes away from Geneva and has trains running all day. In Lausanne, we visited two cathedrals, each of which brought me an overwhelming sense of relief and calm upon entrance. A spiritual epiphany?… perhaps. Or it could have been that I was sweating up a storm outside trudging up a big hill in the sun and humidity and old stone churches are cool and dark giving me a chance to dry off. Who knows which was the cause of my serenity, but either way, I thoroughly enjoyed our time in the churches. One of them even had lots of dead people all around the back, and a wooden door in the floor with a big metal ring to open it. Sadly, the door was locked, destroying all of my hopes for an Indiana Jones/Da Vinci Code-esque adventure. Just once, I want to go into an old church or a castle and find a crazy door that leads into some unaltered, abandoned nether regions of the building, delivering me to astounding discoveries and adventures. Is that really too much to ask for?

After the churches we wandered into some giant building filled with four different museums, where we unintentionally wandered into a geology exhibit without paying. Actually, it wasn’t that we unintentionally wandered in without paying, we had no intention of paying to look at shiny rocks (even though we both confessed during our viewing that we had collected rocks as children… Kacey had even been to a rock show to purchase rocks, which I think qualifies her as the bigger dork, since I just picked my rocks up off the ground). Anyhow, the unintentional part was that we didn’t realize we were stealing our viewing of the rocks because we didn’t know we were supposed to pay. When there’s no one sitting there telling you to pay and everything’s in French how can you tell.

After the rocks we went to down to the lake, bought some fruit at street market, and walked through the International Olympic Committee gardens. We were too cheap to pay to go in the Olympic museum, but we figured we could guess what was going to be in there – in the current Olympics section some pictures of people playing sports and lists of Olympic records, and in the historical section, some statues of naked guys wrestling. As much as I like the Olympics, I don’t need to spend $10 to see a list of athletic records, and frankly I think someone should pay me if I have to see naked guys wrestling.

Well, that was one of the longest entries I’ve written this summer. I guess I was mistaken at the beginning of this entry. Apparently my blogging spirit is alive and well, I just needed to get started and then I was on a roll. Sorry I rambled so much. Odds are that I won’t write again until next week because I have to go to class on Thursday and Friday, instead of coming to work. Boo class! I might be going to Swiss Nationals this weekend with the frisbee team, so that should be fun, and should provide lots of stories for me to share next week. Ciao chicos.

Hurray for an exciting weekend in Geneva. The Fete de Musique was everything I could have hoped for. There were people everywhere, most of the acts were great, and there was food from all over the world. Friday night was probably the highlight of the weekend, as everything was new and novel. We had a couple of beers (maybe a couple plus one or two – enough to give me the impression that I was a good dancer.) Then we wandered around and listened to a little Samba, a rock band with a fiddle (always a good edition), and some African tribal type music performed by an old white guy. At first, although I enjoyed the white man’s African beats, I was skeptical of his actual talent and authenticity (because what do I know about African music). But there were a number of African people in the crowd listening who seemed to be enjoying his music, so that gave him all kinds of credibility. Eventually we left the African tent, so I could get away from an awkward conversation with a guy from Senegal who barely spoke English – loud drums and bad English are not a good combination. On our way to hunt up some crepes (not quite as good as pizza for a late night snack, but amazing none the less), we came across a drum band that was making its way through the park. Suddenly, my generally reserved dancing disappeared and I was hopping about with the crowd, clapping, stomping, swaying, and probably making a complete fool of myself. Luckily, everyone else around me was also flailing about, and we had a really good time, so no regrets about my absurdity. The night ended shortly there after with a Nutella filled crepe – I love Nutella.

Saturday was the first time in three weeks I had been able to sleep in, so I took full advantage of it and slept until 11:15. After savoring some much needed alone time I headed back out to the Fete and spent my afternoon listening to classical music. I met up with friends around 3:30 and we heard an amazing choir sing at the St. Pierre Cathedral, moved on to some reggae, and then hit the bar to watch the US play Italy. The game was wonderful and heartbreaking all at the same time. The US red cards were crap and we outplayed Italy nearly the entire game. During the game, we met a Parisian named Benjamin, who was in town for work. He ended up tagging along with us for the rest of the night, and has promised to be our tour guide when we visit Paris.

Sunday, I spent nearly the entire day on my own, so there was lots of time for personal thought. Here’s a few of the things that went through my mind that day:

1. I fully support french horns. I was a skeptic for a while, but they’re pretty great.

2. I still can’t get behind the oboe – my older sister Leslie played the oboe when we were kids, and it turns out the dying duck sound that often came from her room was not the result of her novice status, but rather a shortcoming of the instrument itself.

3. Is that person in front of me a man or a woman?

4. Gospel music is not meant to be sung by white people – especially French white people – it’s horrid.

5. Jazz flute is only good when it’s done really well. Bad jazz flute is tragic.

6. One should never go see Broadway Hits performed by a local theater troupe, especially when the troupe is singing in a second or third language - I went to not one, but two Broadway Hits performances, and made it through three songs in the first one and four in the second. The highlight of the performances was when a Vietnamese woman sang the Phantom of the Opera classic “Sink of Me.” I know many of you thought the title of the song was “Think of Me,” but she was clearly singing “sink of me, sink of me fondly.”

7. Free opera is not great and it isn’t really opera; it’s just people on a tiny stage singing in really high-pitched voices.

8. Why is the man next to me fidgeting violently in his chair… a seizure? inspired by the music? too many drugs? he hates the oboe too?

9. Blues and jazz are infinitely better live.

10. There is never a better time to visit a free museum then during a passing rainstorm. Modern art is much more interesting when it keeps you dry. That is, until people bring screaming children in the museum, then it’s better to be wet.

After my day alone, I met up with some people from work to see a coworker rap in his trio La Resistance. At work he’s the nicest, quietest guy on the planet, but give him a mic and he’s flowing about his bitches and hoes. (Actually he could have been rapping about saving the world for all I know, but for the sake of his street cred, I’m gonna say it was 100% pure gansta rap.)

That’s all from Geneva for now. Next installation – the madness that will ensue when frisbee friend Kacey arrives from France because she has “no where else to stay at the moment.”

You've got to see this video clip. I heard about it from a couple of guys at frisbee practice last night and it's ridiculous. At first it's not that exciting, just some guy jumping pretty high, but the end is great. Apparently the clip made Sportscenter's top 10 plays of the day.

Lots more to come on the Fete de Musique, but there's so much to say, and I haven't had time to write. Stupid work keeping me busy.

This weekend is the big Geneva music festival, Fete de la Musique Geneve. There will be over 20 stages around town with all kinds of music. According to the locals, the best plan of attack is to just walk around town until you hear something you like and then follow the music. Personally, I plan on taking full advantage of all of the free shows. Aside from your standard jazz, classical, rock, pop, blues, they also have free ballet and opera. I’ve never been to a ballet or an opera, so I’ll have to cash in on that experience. Someone at work pointed out that free ballet or opera probably means it won’t be very good, but I’m sure I won’t know the difference. Having received most of my exposure to ballet from Save the Last Dance, I can’t imagine I will be able to identify a bad ballet unless a woman gets dropped on her face or someone falls of stage. (I have to admit that I sort of hope that happens, so I can have a good story to tell on Monday. I’m a terrible person.)

There is also going to be a large amount of Fanfare music. What in the world is Fanfare? Almost every stage has Fanfare at some point, and I have no idea what that means. I’m picturing lots of bright colors and people jumping around wildly, perhaps with some kind of circus music playing. I’ll let you know on Monday if I’m right.

Not much happened yesterday. I skipped frisbee practice to watch the US/Czech game... bad decision. Wow did we get our asses handed to us. But I haven't lost faith yet; we're going to beat the Italians.

Since there isn't much to tell, to liven up the blog for the day, I've decided to post pictures of my admirers. One of the pictures I stole from our work server, which probably isn't kosher, but it's just so funny that I thought everyone had to see it. Here's Fardeen posing on a ledge in front of the mountains. I just saw this picture for the first time today. I'm sure if I had seen it before the evening of tea, cookies, and creams, I would never have been able to resist his advances.



This second picture is of Jawaid and I in Geneva. Not nearly so amusing as Fardeen's picture, but I wanted to share pictures of both men.

My sister Amy was in town this weekend on her way to Florence. We had a nice Saturday, touring Geneva and eating crepes. Then on Sunday we went to Chateau de Chillon, a castle that dates back to the tenth century. I expected to go and have a pleasant day, enjoy the scenery, maybe learn a little, but I could never have anticipated what we found in the castle's Great Hall. It was a revelation of astronomic proportions. I saw conclusive evidence that angels once lived in Michigan, hence the glory of the state. This photo is of a tapestry made in the 13th century... look at what the angel is doing. Clearly he's about to point out on his hand where he lives in Michigan. Suddenly all of those billboards in Grand Rapids reminding us that God is watching have a whole new meaning. And if you're wondering if there are still angels amoung us in Michigan, just take a moment and think... what group of people is always committed to protecting and serving our state and nation, dedicated to ensuring security and liberty for all, clearly blessed beings committed to the work of our Lord. There should be no doubt in your mind who I'm talking about. God Bless America and God Bless the Michigan Militia.

I forgot to mention that yesterday at frisbee I met a guy from Grand Rapids, who went to high school at Forest Hills Northern (a school I used to play in tennis). Plus he went to Carlton with one of my classmates from Duke, Jeff Jensen. It's cliche, but man it's a small world. In traditional Michigander form, we spent much of the remainder of practice discussing the greatest place on earth - Michigan. We lamented the Pistons and Red Wings playoff runs and marveled at the Tigers starting record. We agreed that Euchre is the greatest card game on earth and planned to play sometime with the other two Michigan types from Duke - Jason and Nate. Euchre night will definitely become a Michigan lovefest. We'll have to be sure not to have any of the other kids from the Duke program around because apparently they find our affection for Michigan somewhat nauseating. The fools just don't understand the majesty of Michigan.

Much to my disappointment (or maybe my relief) Jawaid’s surprise was not very exciting, and rather strange. His surprise was that he is in fact married and has a son… he had lied to me about it because he thought it would be funny to tell me the truth later. He revealed his surprise by giving me a set of pictures from our trip and putting a picture of his son at the end of the slideshow. He was so amused with himself when I saw the picture; he just giggled and giggled. The man really has a terrible sense of humor. So he has a wife and a kid, which is good for him, and not of much interest to me.

I went to frisbee practice last night and received the official Geneva greeting from a couple of the guys - the triple cheek kiss (TCK). Now that I get to greet people with the TCK I feel just like a local (or little bit like a local). A note on the triple cheek kiss – I fully support the one cheek kiss greeting or even the two cheek, but three switchbacks is just ridiculous. When a large group meets, it takes a good five minutes for everyone to greet each other. It’s absurd (and apparently I'm not the only person who thinks so).

I’m back and ready to report on my weekend of Frisbee. I had a lot of fun on Saturday because I played well, and the team was consequently very nice to me. Then on Sunday, I had a bit of an off day, and the team wasn’t so nice. Not that they were mean, just not so friendly. I think that I have been spoiled by Chicago ultimate because most everyone I’ve played with there has been great. Now I expect all frisbee players to be super warm and inviting and welcoming and apparently its not necessarily that way. So perhaps I went in with too high of expectations, thinking everyone would treat me like I was their best friend within 10 minutes of meeting me. Luckily, there were a few of people who warmed up to me pretty quickly – especially the Canadian guy from Toronto, who didn’t seem quite as disgusted by my Americaness as the rest of the team. Also, surprisingly, the one French guy on the team was also very welcoming.

But to the tournament. We won all three of our pool games on Saturday, won two of three on Sunday, and sadly lost both games on Monday and ended up 8^th out of 32. Not a bad tournament, but it was not a great ending day.

Sunday night there was a great party. The theme was “Icarus’ Dream & Other Flying Elements.” I didn’t get dressed up, but some of the teams went all out. I actually ended up taking the bus to the party with a German team that were dressed as parachuters. They all had on white jumpsuits and little tarps tied to their backpacks. I looked so out of place with them – it’s probably the only time in my life that I will feel silly because I’m not wearing a white jumpsuit. I wish I had pictures to post of the cupids, and the flight attendants, and the hot air balloons, and the bees, and the penguins (yes I know penguins can’t fly, but it was a good effort). The costumes were all really great. And there was some tribal band, kind of Stomp-esque, that played at the beginning of the night, and they were really good. Plus once I got a couple of beers in me, I found that talking to my teammates was much easier. To add to my party fun, since I was on the hosting team, beer was only 1 franc or $.80. That’s a heck of a deal.

So that’s about it from the tournament. Since then, I’ve mostly been working a lot. We have a new group in at work – 34 people from 30 different countries. They should be interesting to have around.

Oh and something I forgot to mention earlier. Jawaid promised me a surprise on his last day here, which is today, so I have to confess that I’m very curious about what I’m going to get. I’m not as excited for the surprise as my roommate Eric, who thinks Jawaid is going to propose, but still rather anxious to find out what he’s got planned. I will fill ya’ll in tomorrow.

We have a three day weekend this week, apparently Monday is the Pentecost, Hallelujah! The original plan was to go to a Nimes, France to partake in their Pentecost Festival, complete with bull fights, sangria, and tapas. (I know, it sounds like Spain, but apparently the Nimeians realized how much cooler the Spanish are than the French and decided to hijack a little bit of the superior Spanish culture). I was excited to go until something better and much cheaper came my way. Rather fortuitously, I couldn't leave the office at lunch yesterday to buy my train ticket. Later in the afternoon, the captain of Geneva's frisbee team, the Wizards, sent me an email inviting me to play with the team this weekend at the tournament they host. I don't have to pay the player's fee, and the schedule for the tournament looks great. I get three solid days of frisbee, lots of food and drinks at the three parties they host, and I'll have the chance to meet lots of crazy European hippies. How could I pass that up. So France some other weekend, frisbee this weekend. Only downside to all of this is that I haven't played in a month, so I'm insanely out of shape. Walking on Tuesday might be difficult.