Art Basel

Ok, so Switzerland isn't ALL bad. There are nice things about this country. Like Art Basel, where I went yesterday. Basel is somewhere between 2h 45 min and 3h 10 min away from Geneva, depending on if you have to change trains twice, like on my way back, or not at all, like on my way there. Since it's quite a bit to go, and the train ticket isn't exactly free, even if you have a half fare card like I do, I thought I might as well make the most of it and spend a few hours in the actual town of Basel before I headed for the art fair. That way I could aim for the cheaper evening ticket of 18 francs rather than the all day ticket for 38. You get only about two hours that way, but I thought it sufficient, and I was right. Because going to an art fair like Art Basel isn't just fun, it's also extremely exhausting, I knew that from experience. I managed to see some really good stuff during those two hours though, too much good stuff in fact. It was enough to make me have to sit down and rest after just one hour. There is a limit to how much interesting art you can take in before your head gets full, especially if you're pressed for time, and trying to find your way through the aisles and cubicles is in itself a full time job. If you know you have to be efficient, then you want to try and eliminate as much repetition as possible.
The ideal situation would of course have been to buy a weekend pass and spend the whole weekend in Basel, but unfortunately that's more than I can afford. For me it was the budget version or nothing, so I chose the budget version, even though I knew it would be tough work.

To my great joy, I found that my favourite Swedish artist, Mamma Andersson, was represented by at least two different galleries, neither of them Swedish (if I'm not wrong, one of them was from New York). Unfortunately, I didn't have time to take in the names of many new artists, and with the quality being so high, I found it difficult to register any outstanding pieces in my memory. I saw some unusually sensitive and beautiful drawings by Andy Warhol though; I had not previously discovered that side of his artistic career. Generally, there were a lot of valuable art - old works by not only Warhol, but also Basquiat, Roy Lichtenstein, Picabia, Picasso etc. A lot of old masters in other words. I was also told by one of my students that a bank colleague of his had said that this year's Art Basel was "more interesting" than last year's, since there were more valuable pieces by old modernists and less contemporary art... I suppose this reflects rather well the function that this art fair has for some people - an opportunity to make a safe investment. And with the crisis having brought down the prices of artworks, this is of course an ideal situation to buy a valuable work of art. I suppose his idea of what makes art "interesting" differs slightly from mine... It's quite an interesting phenomenon though, that the financial crisis has had this general effect on this year's art fair; it's shifted slightly from interesting contemporary to valuable modern art. It's sad, but a natural reaction when you live in a capitalist society. Also gallery owners want to make money.

I had an art related incident at one point, which quite well illustrates the problems one can run into in an arty context... Running around an art fair makes you thirsty, and since my water bottle was empty, I searched for an opportunity to refill it. To my relief I found a water container in one of the cubicles, one of those with a white and a blue tap that you press on to get the water out. I had opened my bottle and was just about to press the tab when I heard the gallery owner shout behind me "Mademoiselle! No, it's vodka!" She then politely said that I was welcome to help myself to some if I wanted, but she thought I should be aware... Well, that's art for you; you can never really trust that what you think you see is really what it represents...

Geneva - city of dogs

Right, here goes some more bitching about Geneva... But then again, slagging off Geneva is mainly what this blog is about. This time it's the dog owners' turn to take a beating.
I have never seen quite so many dogs anywhere else as here, and they come mainly in two sizes: L and XS. The small size is primarily to be found in the commercial centre of Geneva; Bel Air and Eaux vives. Their owners are most often female and dressed in designer clothes with gold details. They drag around their ridiculous looking little rat-dogs on their shopping rounds in the city, in and out of designer boutiques and to the occasional fancy lunch spot. These dogs seem to function primarily as some kind of accessory to go with their fancy life style. I've never really seen the point of small dogs; in my opinion you may as well buy a guinea pig or a bunny, but I've never really had that much against them before I moved here either. But because of the way they seem to take over the city and shit all over the pavements (rich ladies tend to not want to pick up after their dogs) I have slowly started to resent them. These are not real dogs, they're living accessories.



The other, larger sized version, has its biggest population on the other side of the river, around the train station and in Paquis, as well as further away from the shopping area. Often, they are either German shepherds or Dobermans, and needless to say, these dogs function more as safety tools than as pets. On the ground floor of our building for example, there are two. They are owned by young, fairly rough looking people, and the apartments they live in are supposedly the same size as ours, in other words around 55 sq metres. One of the dog owners "solves" this problem by letting his dog sleep on the balcony... In any case, an apartment this size is far too small for a large dog, and anyone who cares about the well being of their pets would refrain from buying a dog if they happen to live in a flat of this size.
Something that upsets me far more though, is the frequent use of muzzles on these large sized dogs. I suppose the purpose of them is to protect the people around them, but the thing is that a dog that has been well taken care of does not bite! The use of muzzles only signifies that the dog has been mistreated.



I also strongly disagree with the way that some people bring their dogs into smoky, noisy bars and rock clubs full of drunk people. That is no place for a pet of any kind, and since dogs have very sensitive hearing, the loud volume in itself must be torture for them! The fact that their owners are often drunk and not capable of taking care of their 4-legged companions does not in any way make the situation better.

You would have thought that the fact that this city is so full of dogs would mean that the Swiss are a dog-loving nation, but after what I have seen during my 1,5 years here, it actually appears to be quite the opposite!

Rude Geneva

I spent last week in Barcelona, and when I got back to Geneva, it seemed more gloomy and dull than ever, in spite of the sun shine. There is really not much to this place if you don't happen to have a lot of money. And if you have problems standing smoky environments your choice of hang-out places is even more limited.
Geneva is suffering from a lack of stimuli, as well as from a lack of hospitality on all levels. To this I count the failure to reintroduce the smoking ban, the unwillingness of café- and bar owners to introduce smoking restrictions and last but not least the lack of respect from smokers when they clearly see that someone around them is suffering from the second hand smoke they are imposing upon them. I can't think of any other place I've been to where the well being of others is considered with such arrogance.

I can take last night as an example. I haven't been out in Geneva in quite a while, mainly because I can't stand the smoke. But last night I got fed up with staying at home and agreed to go to l'Ecurie - a little 'alternative' bar which usually has bands on in the room next door. It's cheep, the atmosphere is quite good, the age range widely varied and they usually play quite good music (although last night's band was a more loud than talented heavy metal band who rather unfortunately chose to start their gig by doing a badly performed cover of a Sex pistols song). The only down side is that as the night goes on, the place turns into a smoke chamber. Like with Le Cabinet, Coleur et Saveur or any slightly nice bar or caf'é in Geneva. It wasn't too bad in the beginning, but as the hours passed, it progressively got worse.



I was sitting next to the door however, which because of the bad weather was closed. So every now and then I opened it, and then it would stay open for a few minutes until someone went in or out and closed the door after them. It went on like this for quite some time, but when a group of heavily smoking people sat down at the table next to us things got really bad. One of the girls, who was sitting closest to our table, was chain smoking from the moment she sat down until the moment I left (well, she probably continued after that as well). When I opened the door, she went to close it. And this is how it went on. She could clearly see that I was suffering from her heavy smoking, especially since I got it all in my face. But instead of trying to be a bit understanding and considerate, this seemed to trigger her to smoke even more. Like she wanted to prove to me that she had the right to smoke and I should stay at home if I couldn't stand it. This is a kind of rude and selfish attitude I have gotten quite used to here in Geneva, none the less I find it extremely offensive and hard to grasp. There seems to be a general lack of respect for others in this city (or is it a Swiss thing?).
This became even more obvious to me in Barcelona, where I was shocked by how nice everyone was and how people didn't even mind if I asked if I could speak English to them! Even the bars in Barcelona where smoking is allowed didn't seem to be that filled with smoke, because people didn't smoke as heavily, and most of those places had a smoke free corner anyway. And I don't think this nice attitude is unique to Barcelona; in fact It didn't strike me last time I was there, which was when I still lived in Stockholm. Instead, I think it's got more to do with the fact that Geneva is an utterly stroppy and rude place and most other places in Europe would seem friendly and nice in contrast to what I'm used to here.
Seriously Geneva: a change of attitude would be in order!

The difficulty of learning how to deal with long summers

It's been 29 degrees today! And I have found myself tweeting about the weather far too often lately. I should really stop, because no one else gives a shit. I know myself how annoying it can be when people in other parts of the world brag about their warm weather and beautiful, blue skies. I should really try to avoid doing the same thing myself.
I am also concerned about the cause of this new found obsession; does it mean that I am getting old? Or am I just being Swedish in a foreign country? I hope it is the latter. Although I cannot help thinking about my grandfather and his obsessive need to watch the weather forecast on TV at every given occasion, in spite of the fact that he would most likely spend the best part of the day in a dark room, developing photos. Somehow, he just really needed to always know what the weather would be like the next day. I don't know if he was always like this, but I suspect that this need developed some time after retirement. And I am still far away from that stage.

I suppose the most likely reason for my current weather obsession is the other one, the one about being a Swede... I confess that the fact that I have moved to a place with a better climate than Sweden makes me feel not only relieved and thankful, but also a bit superior to those that are left back home. I know that it's not thanks to me that the sun is shining and the flowers are blossoming, but I still can't help feeling a bit pleased about being better off.
I suppose that a whole life time of facing the ridiculously short life span that the Swedish summers have does something to you. I still can't look at all the green treas around me without also feeling a vague fear of them turning yellow soon. Because that's what I'm used to. I'm used to being thankful for every summer's day that is being given to me. And suddenly finding myself in a situation where you don't have to suck the marrow out of each summer's day, because there will be enough of them anyway, is something I'm not quite used to yet. I still have to learn how to stay inside when it's 28 degrees outside and not feel guilty about it. And I have to learn to not shout out that the sun is shining every time it appears in the sky...

The joy of getting drunk for free

This past week I went to two popular events in and around Geneva: "Nuit des Bains" and "Caves ouverts". These are essentially just two varieties of the same event, where one takes place in the area around Rue des Bains in Geneva and the other one is spread out in the Genevois countryside. Sure, they have their differences, for instance, the former claims to be a night of art gallery openings (where the "night" lasts for three hours and stretches from 18h00 to 21h00) whereas the latter is marketed as a wine tasting festival. The truth is though, that most people don't really know this. What they know, and what they care about, is that they are going to a place where there is free wine and a good chance of running into someone you know. The majority of the people who go around the galleries at nuit des Bains couldn't care less about the art. I know, because I tried to look at some of it last Thursday but failed because of the groups of mingling wine drinkers that blocked the pictures on the walls. I also had great difficulties even entering some of the galleries, since the crowds around the wine and snacks table were clogging up the entrance. I'm generally pro free wine, but since I'm not drinking at the moment I noticed the down side of this generosity more clearly than I have done before, when I have been one of them. If you're not one of the freeloaders yourself, the crowds tend to grow more annoying and the whole experience becomes rather disturbing and muddled by the lack of space and possibility to focus on the art.

It may seem pointless and even stupid to go to a wine tasting festival if you don't drink wine, I am aware of this. But it's also kind of a nice and festive event, and if you can't drink, you can always eat. And indeed I managed to get myself some free dinner, which made it all worthwhile. The wine drinkers did seem to enjoy it vastly though; the sun was shining on this what seemed to be the first summer's day of the year, and the wine was flowing. But much in the same way that the visitors at Nuit des Bains don't have any persistent memories of the artworks, none of the wine drinkers at Caves ouverts that I talked to seemed to have any idea of what they had been drinking... Apart from the ones that actually bought some bottles of course - they had the labels to go by.

It's strange how the joy of getting drunk for free can make you so much more tolerant towards crowded places than if you're sober; I remember last year's Caves ouverts as a joyful and relaxed day and wasn't really bothered by the crowds in front of the bars and the waiting. I suppose being sober turns you into a more bitter and intolerant person.

Bread-heaven

Damn, if there is a bread heaven on earth, it must be at café Wolfisberg in Carouge! I went there briefly today, and bought some bread on the way out, since I'd bought bread from there once before and have fond memories of consuming it on the balcony with a bottle of rosé. Ok, perhaps not a bottle of rosé, let's say a glass... Anyway, my memory served me right. I bought the same bread as the time before - a small baguette shaped loaf which was stuffed with apricots and pistachio nuts. I just had some and, oh my god, this bread is to die for! I was a bit annoyed by how expensive all their bread is, but I understand why, because this isn't just normal bread I'm talking about; no, this is bred blessed by the gods! I'll quite happily pay a few francs extra for bread that tastes this good. I could easily eat the whole loaf myself (I bought a small one, unfortunately a bit too small) but because of the estimated high calorie content I choose to save some for my husband. Also, when I eat something that tastes really nice, I like to share my experience with someone. And I can't help hoping that he will go crazy for this lovely bread as well and insist on going back to buy some more....

The hills are alive with the sound of cow bells

You know you are in Switzerland when you hear cowbells during your morning jog! Just like I did this morning. I didn't see the actual cows since there were too many treas in the way, so I wasn't quite sure that what I heard was actually really cow bells and not just part of the music in my ipod (I have a very obscure mix of music in my ipod, and always set it to 'shuffle' when I go running, so cow bells could possibly be part of one of the songs). It really was cow bells. I don't know what function the bells would have in this day and age; I mean, I assume that the cows are enclosed in a rather limited space. None the less, it was a nice sound to hear when you are jogging on a beautiful little forest path far away from noisy traffic. So I turned off my ipod for a while and just enjoyed the sound of the bells, trying to picture them walking there on the other side of the treas, probably followed by a milk maid with braided hair and apron. I enjoyed that moment. It made me feel like I was really in the countryside, not just a few hundred meters away from the nearest road. Then a fly flew straight into my mouth and the moment was gone. It actually didn't just fly into my mouth, it went straight down my throat before I had time to react. So, in other words, I swallowed a fly this morning. A small one, but still. This is what you get for jogging in the forest with your mouth open.