Geneva is a beautiful, historic and (some would say) cosmopolitan city surrounded by mountains on the western tip of Lake Geneva. Walk along the lakeshore on a cold but sunny February morning and the air is exhilaratingly fresh, the views spectacular. In the city itself, you can spend hours exploring narrow cobbled streets lined with centuries old churches and townhouses. It is clean, orderly and prosperous. It’s also eye-wateringly expensive.
To afford Geneva, you most likely have to live there and work in the financial sector. Or you are one of the many oligarchs and other ne’er do wells who stash illicit cash in Switzerland’s notoriously secretive banks – which are only too willing to turn a blind eye to the origins of your enormous wealth. You could feed a family of four for a week for the price of an average Geneva lunch. The cost of a beer is immoral.
Geneva’s authorities have recognised that many people will need to remortgage their house, or sell a kidney, to afford food and drinks in their city. So they kindly provide visitors with a pass for free transport to offset the crippling cost. This includes free use of the lake boats that ferry you from one shore to the other. It doesn’t mean you won’t need an overdraft for that second beer, but it’s not nothing.
To be fair, Geneva has also made some of its museums free to visit. We were delighted to discover the Musée d’Art et d’Histoire was free, or rather ‘pay what you want’, when we popped in on Sunday morning. Generally speaking, I’d be happy to pay for culture and art, if the cost of a coffee and pain au chocolat didn’t illicit a phone call from a panicked bank employee to check if my card had been stolen.
If you ignore the fact that you’ll need to impose austerity measures on your personal finances when you get home, Geneva is a glorious city in which to spend a few days. We arrived on a winter weekend when Lake Geneva glinted blue and turquoise under a bright sun and deep blue skies. The only other time I’ve been to Geneva it was raining and a bit miserable. The Geneva that awaited this time was altogether more exciting.
We stayed in the Pâquis, an area near the lake for bracing morning walks, but still close enough to the train station to be described as ‘colourful’, ‘vibrant’, even ‘Bohemian’. By which people mean it’s home to migrant communities and the red light district. On our first morning, we walked to the lake and along the Plage des Pâquis to a lighthouse. The view down the lake, over Geneva and the iconic Jet d’Eau, was splendid.
We strolled along the lake, crossing the pedestrianised Pont des Bergues into the city to explore the Old Town. We made for the oldest public square in Geneva, Place du Bourg-de-Four, in the heart of the historic centre, and home to several restaurants and bars. Walk in any direction from here and there are fascinating streets to wander. We headed to the Cathédrale Saint-Pierre sitting on a hilltop overlooking the town.
Next to the cathedral in an 18th-century mansion is the Museum of the Reformation. Protestantism may have ‘begun’ the day Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of a church in Wittenberg, but it was in Geneva that the Calvinist Reformation was nurtured and flourished. As a result, it is known as the Protestant Rome and the cathedral is the epicentre of Calvinism.
The Reformation brought Protestant refugees from France and elsewhere. They helped Geneva develop trade and new industries, it became a wealthy and powerful city state as a result. That wealth can be seen all around the Old Town. It’s a joy to explore, especially the series of promenades, parks that offer views over the city. It’s not large and you could whiz round it in a couple of hours, but slow wandering has its reward.
Loved the old town photos especially.