Okay, maybe sort of... at least watches are involved.
Regular readers will know that I am about as big a fan of Watches and Wonders as root canal work sans anesthetic. But this year I went to Geneva to help out at the Ollech & Wajs booth -
I also wanted to check out some new brands, and possibly drum up a little business. That was, at least, the plan.
The plan included some other stops:
Bern for half a day (afternoon) and night, La Chaux-de-Fonds for lunch on Sunday, and a night at one of my favorite hotels - the Ruby Mimi in Zurich. And finally a treat for myself (assuming it was still available) at Jenni Uhren.
As per usual, I worked all day and then headed to Logan to catch the overnight to Zurich. Zurich connected to Geneva (a quick hop), and I grabbed my bag and found my way to the Villa Sarasin where the Time to Watches show was being held.
In the process I passed by the Watches and Wonders compound. And honestly? Now that I've seen it up-close and personal? I still don't get it. Clearly a lot of money was (and will continue to be) spent. And I felt a bit bad for the staff stationed outside, wearing something that resembled surgical scrubs in various hues. Curious to relate? A few special delegates were apparently too "special" to walk the 100 meters to the entry way and were driven. Which ordinarily wouldn't bother me, apart from nearly being run over...
Anyway, the show was good, but hectic. I ran into A LOT of old friends and colleagues and got down to work. The first day was a blur, a quick sausage with fries with my boss, and I found my way to the train bound for my hotel in Annemasse, France.
And then I got off the train. I stopped into the convenience store for some water, and plugging in the directions to my phone, started to walk, dragging my suitcase through what seemed like a semi-destroyed town. It was just after 10:00 PM and I'm not going to lie, I was starting to get a wee bit nervous. I was starting to have this bad feeling that people would be reading about me as a cautionary tale vis-a-vis the dangers of not looking for a taxi in a strange town after dark...
I got to my hotel, got checked in, fell into bed and was asleep before my head hit the pillow. And then I woke up...
The sun was shining, and I was reminded of one important travel rule - never judge a place until you've seen it in daylight ; )
Feeling somewhat sheepish about my earlier trepidation, I followed my normal routine:
When you arrive in a new place during the night - Get a good night's sleep, enjoy a good breakfast, wander the town and let yourself get lost, try to use the local language, and don't be afraid to ask a stranger for directions.
And as per the condition of the town? It seems that nearly all of the streets had been ripped up in preparation for tram lines that would be installed. In the bright light of day it made perfect sense, but at 10:15 PM it gave a totally (in hindsight, false) impression. Annemasse is a beautiful town that I hope to spend more time in next year.
And the fair continued for the next few days, I saw some cool stuff -
And in between? I caught up with people I hadn't seen for years, promoted my book, and wolfed down lunch. And an important rule about working watch shows - allow flexibility in all things, but lunch is the one thing you can't compromise on.
And Saturday rolled around, and it was time to head home. I had picked up a watch that I had been admiring, and started packing up my bags, consolidating things into my main suitcase. I turned to see that someone had grabbed one of my bags and had started heading up the stairs with it. So I left my things and called out to him. He turned to look at me, and then turned back continuing to walk, only faster! I called out again. He shrugged, turned around and handed me back the bag. I went back downstairs and zipped up my bag, and left the Villa heading for the train station. My intention was to be on a train that would deliver me to Bern around 8:00 PM. Plenty of time for dinner and a walk around the city. I did my usual mental inventory, and just in front of the Palexpo I froze... I didn't have the bag with my new watch! I sprinted back towards the Villa - pulling a now very heavy suitcase, and absolutely sweating through my clothes. I dashed down the stairs and the bag with the watch was nowhere in sight. I went down to the area where we had been showing and informed both my boss and the folks at Elka that I couldn't find the bag with my new watch, and that it might have been stolen. I ask them to keep an eye out just in case, and pretty dejectedly, I headed back up to grab my suitcase and limp back to the train station. I felt like an idiot. My suspicion was that the kid had tried to distract me by grabbing one bag while someone else took my new watch. I had been played, like some rube in the big city. Hakim El Kadiri, the owner of Elka had followed me out, and like a patient parent trying to deal with a child mid-meltdown asked me -
"Did you check your suitcase?"
I took a beat, flipped my suitcase over and opened it up, and there near the top was my Elka watch, still in the bag. I sighed, looked at Hakim like that same mid-meltdown child who has just now realized that the world isn't really ending, and meekly said thank you. He smiled, wished me a safe trip, and headed back down to the show.
I now double stepped it towards the train station, because I still had a chance to get the train I was hoping for. I got to the ticket machine and...
My bank card wasn't working. I tried another machine... no joy. I rooted through my wallet and gathered an assortment of Euros and Swiss Francs, and managed to cobble together enough coins and cash to buy a ticket to Bern! And... I missed the train by about 1 minute.
I waited the extra 30 - 40 minutes, got on the next thing steaming north and reminded myself about the importance of not panicking, keeping my cool, and enjoying the moment. And to this end I was truly enjoying the ride, looking out at the scenery. We had been underway a full 20 minutes or so, and just outside of Nyon, the train came to a stop. And this part I'll never forget. If you've never taken one of the main trains on the SBB system, allow me to inform you that there are typically three languages used (unless you are in Ticino / Lugano where it will be four) in this order:
French or German is first and/or second, depending upon the region. In this case French was first. But this next part was curious. The second announcement was not in German but rather in English. A rather shaky young female voice informed us that there had been an accident, and a person had been hit by the train. She couldn't tell us how long we would be there as it had to be investigated. And as the hours ticked by, first police, then engineers, and finally medical personnel arrived. The fact that the doctors arrived last, and seemed in no great hurry made it clear that someone had likely been killed.
Now think about this for a minute, this was in a semi-rural area, the train tracks were in a bit of a gulley with high embankments on either side - meaning that there was no reason for someone to be anywhere near where the train went through.
I texted my boss, I called my wife (Wendy) and let them know what has happened. And if I'm honest? I felt like I'd been hit square between the eyes with a two-by-four. The entire folly of my two panicky presumptions had been laid bare. And I also took that moment to remind myself how lucky I was, and that not everyone else was as fortunate. I realized that life, writ large, is fickle and fragile and pretty unfair.
Nearly two hours later, the train moved forward, but only to another stop. And then the next dominoes started to fall as train traffic had now backed up with hundreds of people waiting on the platforms of a small town between Geneva and Lausanne. Another 40 minutes later and the train finally arrived. We pulled into Bern around 10:45 or so. And I was fairly certain that dinner was going to be an impossibility. Yes, first world problems.
But then my luck changed.
Young Boys Bern had apparently had a big match that evening that ran late, and the station was flooded with black and yellow jerseys. And accordingly, most of the restaurants in the train station had stayed open. So I treated myself to what I seem to remember was called an Kebab Orientale.
Spoiler alert - it was AWESOME!
With my dinner in hand, I made my way to the exit, and tried to find my way to the hotel. A very kind person confirmed my directions and I made my way to there -
I enjoyed a lovely glass of wine and had a good chat with the night manager.
I stayed up a bit later than usual, wrote some letters and journal entries. And climbing into bed, I closed my eyes and took a moment. I was at once relieved, sad, happy, introspective, embarrassed and ultimately grateful. I realized that we are, all of us out there in the world, trying not just to survive. So many are searching to find meaning, to find connection.
To find joy.
I close my eyes with the promise to do better.
La Chaux-de-Fonds and Zurich were still ahead, and as my old father always used to say -
"Things will look much brighter in the morning!"
Stay tuned!
