Mountaineers

As I type this column, I am sitting in a cafe at the very summit of a 1,379 meter mountain just outside of Geneva, Switzerland. The sky is blue, and I can count only three individual clouds, two of which are wispy barely-there streaks of translucent white. The city below is sprawling and lovely, all white buildings and green trees with a slash of blue lake in the middle.

A few minutes ago, I was exploring a nearby meadow with one of my travel buddies -- I am not ashamed to admit that I performed an enthusiastic rendition of The Sound of Music (1965) there, spinning and singing near the precipice of the mountain, enjoying the sun (and only barely tolerating the wind. It is really rather cold here today).

"How did we get to the top of this mountain?" you might ask. I'm happy to tell you, as I'm actually quite proud of myself for being brave enough to do it. No, we didn't hike -- this mountain is too cliff-like for that to be a viable option for non-climbers. Instead, we took a "téléphérique" -- a gondola -- which hung suspended from two practically vertical cables extending from the summit to the ground below. Honestly, I found the whole experience terrifying, though worth it in the end -- the view from the top is unlike anything I have ever seen.

I'm not really looking forward to the journey back down, though. I'm watching a gondola descend right now and it looks like a possibly scarier experience than the ascent, unfortunately.

This whole weekend has been full of gorgeous scenery and adventurous activities, really. And, now that I think about it, I've spent rather a lot of time climbing hills. We started in Lyon -- we took the train from Paris on Friday afternoon -- and spent the following two days exploring the city in the occasional wind and rain. Old Lyon is mostly atop a steep hill, requiring a funicular ride to get to the top. The city is a fascinating mix of old Roman ruins, 18th century architecture and narrow, winding medieval roads; there was plenty to see there, and we covered most of it on foot.

Lyon is also a city renowned for its culinary prowess: We tried as many local Lyonnais delicacies as we could, even if that meant eating questionable-looking tripe or sausages (well, technically, I didn't eat those things -- being a vegetarian has its perks sometimes). We also tried the "Coussin de Lyon," which is chocolate covered in teal-colored marzipan, and "Tarte aux Pralines," a pastel-pink concoction of almonds, sugar and pastry crust. We determined that trying local pastries is generally a better idea than trying various unsavory parts of animals, regardless of how traditional they are.

Sunday, we took the train from Lyon to Geneva, entertained the entire way by a small blond boy who continually asked his mother questions in charmingly childish French. Geneva, as it turns out, is incredibly cold this time of year, as the wind coming off the lake is horribly strong. The city is beautiful, though, and for an international relations major like me, it's exciting just being in the same city as one of the headquarters for the United Nations, which we visited this morning, and in which I took an embarrassing number of selfies in front of the rows on rows of international flags. Unfortunately for us, the fact that it was Easter weekend meant that most places were closed, so we didn't actually get to see the museum, but I was thrilled nonetheless.

We're headed back to Paris tonight, which, oddly enough, has started to feel a little like home. I'm definitely looking forward to not having to sleep in a hostel bunk bed. Now, if you'll excuse me, the cafe employees are starting to give me looks for sitting here for so long, so I'd better go. Another gondola ride awaits -- keep me in your thoughts in this difficult time.