chapter 22: the end is where we start from

Not to go overboard with the T.S. Eliot allusions, but the end of the Tour was more whimper-like than bang-like, as we had significant trouble finding the Reformer's Wall following our arrival in Geneva after dark.

After hiking all around St. Peter's (that hills + cobblestones combination again) and certain half-deserted streets for over an hour, trying to get directions from various French-speaking Genevans (I have heard the locals speaking each to each; I do not think that they will speak to me), we finally made it to the Wall.

Here's my picture. If you want to see a better picture go here.


Tired, we returned to our lodging for the evening, the Hotel Suisse (where the staff were the French kind of Swiss, and thought as highly of us as you've heard the French do), with just slightly more energy than a patient etherized upon a table.

So it was not the best of evenings.

We had seen the patience of our driver flicker,

And we had seen the hotel concierge hold our keys, and snicker,

And in short, we were dismayed.

P.S. -- We weren't dismayed really badly or anything, except that we did have an upset driver and a rude front-desk guy and two potential kidnappings going on at the same time, causing Mary and me to discover that we both had an affinity for Agatha Christie mysteries and that this was the perfect setting for a murder mystery of our own. Nobody else was quite so enthused . . .