Ending on a good note

Just as our trip began - on a musical note - so it ended, with Mozart's "La Clemenza Di Tito," which was playing that last evening in Geneva. (See the link for a Washington Post article on the very performance we attended. I don't think the review really does the performance justice, but given that I'm not exactly an opera aficionado, don't speak Italian, and didn't understand the French subtitles either, I may not be the most qualified person to comment.)

After a mad dash back to the hotel to change, we quickly (I mean quickly, in the truest sense of the word) changed into clothes that we hoped would pass muster at the theatre gates. Six people took a grand total of about ten minutes to get ready, and I must admit that the other five, including three girls, were ready before I was. Somewhere between trying three or four different not-very-impressive clothing combinations, burning my leg while attempting to iron my pants after putting them on, and eventually borrowing Paul's tee shirt (which I doubt is still his size), I fell behind. I kept suggesting that I should run to the airport and buy a sport coat for the occassion, but given the five minute time frame we were working with, my idea was nixed, even though the airport was practically across the street. So, coatless, in Paul's tee shirt, and, come to think of it, Brian's tie, I stumbled out of the hotel room into the waiting crowd of very impressive looking company.














Emily graciously agreed after some coercion to carry my oversized camera in her purse, but then somehow I ended up carrying the purse. It was all very confusing.

We ran across the street to the bus stop and stood patiently for several minutes there before realizing a still-smoldering cigarette was lying at our feet. We used our impressive collective intelligence to deduce that we had narrowly missed the bus. Not to worry; we would hail a taxi.















It didn't take long to flag down a passing five-seater with a spacious hatchback, and we were soon on our way again. The ride was pretty comfortable, and, luckily, no one fell out when the doors popped open (okay, so the four people in the back seat had to squeeze a bit). Paul managed to get the roomieset *seat* in the car back in the luggage compartment. Our driver, who refused to acknowledge the English language, finally understood we were looking for the theatre, and successfully took us on a most scenic route around Geneva, originally taking us toward the wrong place, but eventually getting us where we wanted to go in sufficient time for us to walk in and get some tickets in the same general vicinity. The thought occured to me later that the theatre house may have regretted letting us sit in the same section, but we quieted down after intermission, as sleepers need no translation.

After the opera, we found a little Mediterranean place, ordered a bunch of gyros, grabbed some ice cream and Doritos, and caught the last train back to our hotel where we sat around and talked about many things. More accurately, Brian and Nicole talked about many things. Emily calculated the financial liabilities of each of our group's members, and I crashed on Mary's bed.















Hoorah for Cool American Doritos!

A few hours later, we were packed up and on our way back to the States, all except Paul, that is. The Cool American stayed behind for a few more days, went back to Chamonix-Mt. Blanc, skied glaciers, took pictures of people falling off cliffs, and otherwise endangered his life. Happily, he too made it home a few days later, and safely to boot.

Many thanks to Paul for his organization of the trip, and to everyone who helped make it such an enjoyable time. Dean Magnuson and his family were awesome to hang out with, our bus driver was great, and there are so many more people I could mention . . . hotel staff, restaurant personnel, fellow hikers, border guards, and, of course, friends. To friends and memories, cheers!