Les Rêveries du promeneur solitaire

While in my English textbook, the queen went down to Tilbury to see her ships, Red Baron took the train to Geneva to see his grandchildren.

Although I still remember the Tilbury phrase from my school days, I had forgotten the context and browsed Wikipedia. In 1588 Queen Elizabeth I came ashore here to review her main army at the nearby village of West Tilbury. There she gave her famous speech on August 8.

On July 21, the Great Armada had been dispersed, but the threat of a Spanish invasion persisted. Despite the danger, Elizabeth refused to seek shelter and gave confidence to her troops, insisting that God instead was with the British Crown then with the Spanish.


Back to Geneva. We had planned a family dinner, so I had a few hours in the afternoon to stroll the city.

In 1968 the night before my CERN selection board, I stayed near the train station at Hotel Strasbourg, which was closed due to corona. So nostalgia got a minor setback when I booked the nearby Chrystal hotel.

On my walk to the lake, I passed Geneva's pompous post office building,

 

had a look at the English Church where they announced a Spring Fair for June 5,

and suddenly stood at a construction site with men at work blocking Geneva's bottleneck, the Pont du Montblanc,

Heights in meters of  nearby mountains

Distances in km to places in Switzerland and nearby France

Turning right, I took a photo of Geneva's geodetic point. Then I crossed the River Rhône by the Pont des Bergues reaching the Île Rousseau.

Here is the lone stroller's monument. The Reverie of the Solitary Walker is an unfinished book by Genevan philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, written between 1776 and 1778.

Time for a rest with an Apérol Spritz at La Riviera du Rhône in memory of my late son, who had his anniversary yesterday. Note my walking stick in view.

On my way out, I had another view of the Pont du Montblanc.

On la rive gauche, I approached the Place de la Petite-Fusterie. The bistro that used to be there is now run by the Riverside Café.

Time to stay for an espresso and a "glace Mocca."

I still had two hours to kill. So why not visit Meyrin-Village, where I have lived for more than 20 years. A  streetcar that did not exist at my time took me to the center of the village.

The restaurant Pizza d'Oro on my left is still there but has a new look. When looking from the village height down the road to CERN, the once-green valley was no longer. Now enormous apartment blocks fill the meadows. 

Mournful in my soul, I returned to the village where the Cafe de la Place and the restaurant La Meyrinoise were closed. 

But the village had opened the square behind the church and installed a water fountain. There I found Gianni Caldognetto's place open to serving drinks.

Why not have my aperitif already here before giving my grandchildren a bad example. I ordered a coup de blanc of the local Chasselas. They call the wine Perlan in Geneva. 

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