a sweet romance

There's a sweet romance to walking around an old city or town which is by the lake and overlooking mountains.  A sensuous experience. Drifting clouds and changing light.  The lake seal blue one minute, aquamarine the next.  Stunning architecture.

Noises, too,  muted French voices like distant winds, the sense of space this provides; slopping, shooshing, plopping noise of the waves, earnest church bells ringing out over the lake.  The swish of a ferry as it glides into the harbour.  The smell of the lake,  aromas from restaurants.


There's something timeless about these visits to the towns on the north side of Lake Geneva.  If you look hard enough, you can see the harsher side of life: two dark-skinned women arguing outside the church of St Francois in the centre of Lausanne, one visibly distressed; the pavements displays of tacky memorabilia.  As a tourist passing through, I allow myself not to think too much.  Just to enjoy the fluttery feeling of pleasure that I would have experienced ten years ago and doubtless will relive in another ten.



Jane