In Geneva

It's not Venice, but the water's clean.

Last night was the Geneva day celebrations for this year, as usual capped by one of the best firework displays in Europe. (I'll put up the finale as a video and include the URL reference in a future blog.) We had dinner in the open air at the Café de Centre then walked fifty meters to the riverside to view the display. The weather was perfect, and many of the city's residents had poured into the riverside and along the lake to party. It was on a similar day of celebration that I first visited Geneva many years ago, and, as I recall the city then, there is little observable difference today.

I have mixed feelings about Geneva; in many ways it's a business and money city, without a great deal of personal warmth. Like many European cities in the post-war era, they put up some atrocious buildings in the downtown, mostly aluminum and glass packing crates. It will take a long time to get rid of them and replace them with designs more appropriate to the city's history and culture. On the other hand, control-freaks will love the many layers and degree of public administration in Switzerland. This is an organized town. Traffic is horrible; the streets are mostly under construction, with new subterranean fiber cabling, piping and tram rails being laid. I'm told it will be like this for years to come.

Geneva's old city, up on the hill, is not without charm, but then, it's old, and when compared to the modern lower city, it's peaceful and has many interesting shops. There was one enterprise selling antique scientific instruments that appealed to me in particular, but then, I like shiny, complicated things. The old city is well worth a walk, but be careful of the idiots driving the narrow streets.

It seems that if you visit European cities, eventually you end up in the local cathedral—and this is the case in Geneva. It certainly is the most interesting structure we visited. The cathedral in the old city, with its 1,700 year documented history isn't much to look at inside or out, when compared with some of the truly magnificent churches in Europe. Perhaps there is too much Calvinist influence. Then again (there are always at least two sides to any comment about Geneva), archeology has created a wonderful dig underneath the cathedral and documented the constant human occupation and building on the site since the third century. There is an exhibit under the cathedral where you can literally wander amid the excavations for eight euro, four if you're old enough to dodder, and see the structure as it existed at various times. With a few more euro and strong legs, you can walk to the top of the tower and see a spectacular view of Geneva, if you're into that sort of thing.

Geneva is about money, and this is a very rich town. Evidence of wealth is everywhere, and if you are one of the financially-challenged, it can be fairly depressing. The city is not particularly expensive for Europe until you get into luxury items, like food, clothing and housing. Eating simple is okay, but if you insist on tablecloths, prepare to hurt in the wallet area. Our experience of dining in Geneva was not that great. We found much of the food to be over-cooked and unimaginative—a surprise in what is, in effect, a French city. I'm sure there are fine restaurants here but I don't think my expectation of moderate pricing and sufficient care in food preparation is that exceptional. The same can be said of the wines: there is a natural bias to locally-grown vines, not altogether deserved.

I like the Swiss, but I'm not entirely sure why. They are obsessive about security and have some really strange views about sequestering themselves in this age of European consolidation. While the euro is essentially a second currency here, and travel to and from Switzerland by EU citizens is simple and open, this is the only country I know of that requires—today—that new residential buildings contain a bunker behind a blast door, stocked with air, water and food for its residents in the event of a nuclear attack. I find this attitude odd in a country known for peace, neutrality, the UN and charitable works, but such paranoia should resonate with many Americans convinced that everyone is out to get them.

The lake and river are Geneva's main claim to natural beauty, other than the surrounding mountains, of course. I don't think there is any sight more uplifting to the spirit, or more reassuring to a feeling of permanence and continuity of life than to pass through the Alps on a clear day. In Florida, more than anything, I think, even considering the food, culture, democracy and diversity of Europe, I miss the Alps.

The Airport in Tel Aviv

For some reason, while entering a country you don't seem to notice the airport around you; perhaps it's because your prime objective is to put it behind you after hours of dehydration and breathing other peoples' air. But when departing, what with the requirements for allowing time for security, there's enough leisure to look about and get the sense of the place. Such was the case for us in Tel Aviv.

Security was onerous, of course; the airport variety was practically born in Tel Aviv, but deep inside your brain there is a certain gratitude for the efforts expended. Flying is bad enough without adding the risk of some idiot deciding to change the odds of your safe arrival at your destination. Allow time for security: there is a lot of it, and the process is thorough. I've grown to feel that airport security is a bit like prayer before a flight: you may not need it all the time or even believe in its effectiveness, but you can't prove that it's NOT necessary, nor how much is enough. I think the book of Forrest Gump would paraphrase it as "security is as security does".

Once into the departure lounge you'll find one of the largest—and busiest—so-called "Free Tax" shops you'll see anywhere. Not that I believe in Free Tax, but who can resist the opportunity to buy something you'd never consider otherwise? It must have something to do with voluntarily getting into a sealed aluminum tube and putting yourself into the hands of technologies known to occasionally fail. There's a certain portion of fatalism in plunking down $85 for a small bottle of scotch—or $565 for twenty-five cigars—where the end purpose is to turn it into urine or the cigars into ashes. (If I recall correctly, Israel is said to be one of the few countries remaining that still support U.S. demands for an embargo of Cuba. If true, why are they selling Cuban cigars in their Free Tax? Not that I'm complaining. Just asking.)

The Lod or Ben Gurion airport (both names work) is completely different than we remember it from years past. We found it very modern, efficient, clean and comfortable; just about everything that the old airport terminal wasn't. Of course, technology has helped make security less tedious, and the pursuit of wealth now offers conveniences to us poor consumers only dreamed of twenty years ago. The airport is now polished and generic: you could now be just about flying into or out of anywhere else—if the signs were all in Hebrew.

The Wall at Bethlehem

I had intended to write today about my visit to the Old City of Jerusalem, but events today have put that off to another time. Today, I had my first experience with the Wall and the security between Jerusalem and Bethlehem. It deserves mention.

I have been in and out of Bethlehem several times, usually without trouble. I remained in the car, showing my passport when required. R. would get out of the car, walk to the check post, show his documents, walk back to the car, and we'd be off. Today, I had to leave the car, walk about 50 meters past the Wall to the pedestrian processing center, and be, well, processed. No explanation for the change in routine—that's apparently the point. R. drove the car through and waited for me on the other side. He had a long wait.

I got some direction from a soldier at the Wall, and walked down into the center. It was Spartan and strongly built—all galvanized steel and pipe barricades. I passed through the entry gate and into a long hall. There were no instructions in English and no one in sight. There were three barricaded gates out of the hall, and a marked emergency exit that was locked. None of the barricade turnstiles worked. I was starting to feel like a rat in a psychology experiment. I thought of finally calling out "Hello, anyone here?" but received no response. I tried all the barricades again. No luck. Then, with no exit possible, I settled down to wait it out. I figured that more people would eventually show up to be processed and that if nothing else, they would have to eventually let us through or feed us. After about five minutes, another group of tourists wandered in, milling about just as confused as I was.

Finally, a Palestinian who knew his way around arrived and, finding the gates locked, shouted loud enough to get some action. One of the barred gates' lights suddenly turned green and we could enter in small groups of two and three. Once through the gate it was fairly quick for us foreigners, although the Palestinians with us were queued in a separate line and received additional interrogation. They were still in the hall when I left. It took me about 25 minutes. R. tells me that, during the early hours, with workers trying to get to their job in Israel, as many as five thousand souls can be waiting for processing. Then, they all have to get home in the evening. I wonder how long it will be before someone realizes they can make a lot of money off the Palestinians by charging for passage. Of course, tourists usually stay on their buses.

I realized that I was misjudging the efficiency of the processing center. I initially thought it was just stupid, poorly managed, and almost tragic-comic. I now believe that the Wall operates not for my convenience, but precisely for the opposite: it is to discourage traffic across the "border" by making the daily process as humiliating, demeaning and just plain difficult as possible. It is foremost about separation and consolidation: separation of a populace from, and consolidation of territories within.

Palestinians can lose hours just trying to get one kilometer from their homes, and they absolutely hate the Wall. Make no mistake, regardless of the security benefits, which are dubious to me, if the Israelis ever want reconciliation with the Palestinians this Wall is a terrible mistake. The U.S. might take the lesson to heart at its borders. Once you build a wall, diminishing its memory will take more than a generation or two after it is gone.

I thought it was ironic that, after passing through security, I found a wall poster advising me that it was vacation time all year round in Israel. This seems a curious message to those desperately trying to earn a living for their families.

Over thirty years ago I used to pass from Jordan into Israel at the Allenby Bridge. This was well before Israeli built the separate border terminal for foreigners there, and long before VIP status was instituted; in those days we walked with the Palestinians through the barbed-wire-fenced open-air compound, a great mass of humanity poled through by soldiers on each side of the gate. It was chaotic, noisy, hot, dusty and dangerous. But, it had the sense of being temporary. Now all those miseries have been institutionalized, cast in concrete, and inflicted on many more Palestinians that ever once crossed near Jericho. Does anyone believe this is progress? Is there anyone out there so deluded that they believe this is a humane and proportionate security provision? I am saddened by a realization of all that has been lost, and how little has been gained in this country.

In approaching the Wall with its observation towers it's easy believe you're entering a prison, but for me, when you approach the gate at Bethlehem, I first think of the entry to Jurassic Park. It's absolutely eerie. The question is: which side of the Wall holds the predators?