Of Airports and other purgatories

With the end of the year drawing closer and closer, so does the possibility that I’ll have to be in a plane again.

Like many other people who hate flying and who enjoy grounded life, planes are obviously my least favourite places in the whole wide world. Airports and government buildings in South America are a very (very!) close second.

Airports, I feel, have become the place where good manners and elegance have gone to die. Where else can you expect to see people growing impatient, angry, anxious, before abandoning all resemblance of common decency and beginning to engage in line-cutting, foot-stomping and sometimes screaming? And all of this happens even before they ask you to take off your shoes at the security check – by which point, particularly during the holiday season, we’ve come to embrace the madness.

Storm warning

After a nice weekend (during which the weather unilaterally decided to go to hell in a hand basket), it was time to go back to work. We’re not snowed under yet, but according to the usually wrong Swiss weather predictions we’re expecting some snow this week. Possibly Thursday afternoon.

Now, before you start judging, I’ll point out that I actually enjoy living in Geneva. It’s a lovely city, it’s small, but with all the gastronomic resources a wildly varied international crowd expects

Maybe it was the end of the world as we know it – but I feel fine…

I knew right away on Friday morning that something was up. The Angry Chef and I got out of bed and peeked out from behind our curtains. The mountains were dark against the grey-pink-orange sky. The clouds looked remarkably suspicious. And beautiful.

The Angry Chef looked at me and, acting as if nothing was wrong at all, doing his best to be himself, gave me a kiss and wished me a good day, told me to stay out of trouble and told me we’d see each other after work.

And you know what? No matter what happened, I knew we would see each other after work.