white male consumer

Thursday morning, bright and early at 6am, we got onto the bus and headed toward Switzerland. Our destination? Geneva, to tour the UN and attend several lectures. The ride there was approximately three hours, and wouldn’t have been that bad, but for the fact that we wore formal attire, which is generally hot, uncomfortable, and has the side effect of making one look like a total jackass.

Once we got to Geneva, we were processed, given UN badges, and taken on a tour. The tourguide was entertaining, the tour itself a bit bland but worthwhile anyway. Afterwards, we ate at the UN cafeteria, where it began.

The prices were fucking outrageous. And they use bullshit monopoly money (Swiss Francs). The food was alright, I got lucky with the eggplant parmesan. After we were fucked over at the cafeteria, we attended two lectures. Both were rather uninspiring and unmemorable. A whole lot of idyllic, “this is how the UN works, and look at all we accomplish” bullshit. I could dig out the itinerary if you’re really interested.

Afterwards, we checked into our hotels (another monumental letdown, and I was in the better of the two!), and then ate fondue. Yes, apparently in Switzerland, dipping bread on a stick into a huge vat of cheese is considered a meal (a very expensive meal, at approximately 25 Swiss Francs per person). It was an odd experience, that I didn’t really hate or enjoy. They added wine to the cheese, which really gave it a peculiar taste. Disappointment number…. I dunno, who’s counting?

Afterwards, the Ugly Americans were let loose into the city. And we lived up to the hype. Starting out in a huge group, a few of us splintered off. People came and went throughout the night. At first, we visited a convenience store, where the guy told us that the sale of alcohol after nine was prohibited (in liquor and convenience stores, and the ilk). With five minutes to spare, we were faced with an important decision.

I went with the cheapest vodka that Swiss Francs can buy. Some crap from Poland, which still came to an embarrassing 22 Francs. Then we went to a bar, for a round. We sat outside, and although I knew it wasn’t kosher, I was trying to keep some semblance of a budget. So I did not go in and order a pint, but rather sipped from my bottle from time to time.

After probably forty-five minutes, and five or six other people buying a round, the bartender came outside and grabbed the bottle from my hand, saying something in French, and walking back inside. Asshole number one.

He was also over-charging everyone. We don’t speak French, but we can fucking count. I was resolute that if I didn’t see my vodka again, he wouldn’t be seeing any of the glass beer steins (which were quite nice, actually). Unfortunately, I am still stein-less. We walked back to a hotel room, and did what people do. Drink, talk, and watch a Tupac marathon. Oh, and there was also this wonderful roundtable discussion on the tv involving Bono, Bill Clinton, Paul Wolfowitz, and the Queen of Jordan, among others. Eclectic cast, to be sure. In the end, I managed to trash my hotel room a bit. Unintentional, of course. Who’s smart idea was it to put the glasses on the edge of the sink in the bathroom?

I woke up, felt horrible, and attended another two lectures at the UN. Which I remember even less of than the first two the previous day. But by the time they were over, I was feeling chipper, and with four hours to spare before traveling back to Freiburg, I decided to walk around in a small pack of Americans, eating falafel and watching swans (we found a dead one). Also went to the top of a church (The guy charging admission? Total dick). The view was outstanding.

Ultimately, Geneva seemed to be full of overpriced, crappy food. Expensive brand-name watches, suits, and of course, knives. Sad, balding men with small penises driving Lamborghinis, Ferraris, and Bentleys. It’s a town full of naive, idealistic UN bureaucrats, and the parasites who feed off of them.

Oh, and everyone spoke French. I actually felt glad to be back in Freiburg where people speak German. At the very least, I know what language I’m not understanding, as people try to talk to me.

The short and sweet? Geneva — an expensive town full of assholes. Speaking French.

I say nay.