Mal Rogers Why Geneva is a real tonic
BLARNEY, Limerick, Porto, Jerez, Genoa, Nimes. You might spot a link — they’ve all bestowed on the world certain words with specific meanings. Blarney and Limerick need no further discourse; Porto gave us port; Jerez, sherry; Genoa, jeans; and serge de Nîmes is the source of denim.
Geneva is less clear — does the city have any influence on the etymology of gin? I went along to Switzerland to investigate.
Everywhere you look in Geneva you see France — the mountains are in France, the other side of the lake is in France, Mont Blanc is in France. But despite that, Geneva remains a very Swiss city.
The citizens of this nation — not an ethnic, religious or geographical entity — seem happy to soak up influences from all over central Europe. The cuisine is a mix of German and French, with a little Italian stirred in. The average Genevois speaks a handful of languages with the ease of a UN interpreter, and contrary to all national stereotyping, the Swiss are helpful and even on occasion, humorous.
Geneva’s medieval old town is well supplied with fortifications. Evidently warriors, not wusses, lived here.
MEANWHILE, the Reformation Wall in the Parc des Bastions, with its roll call of Calvin, John Knox and other assorted puritans, will demonstrate that life in Geneva wasn’t always a barrel of laughs. Never mind the word ‘gin’; the dog collar worn by preachers — the white one with the two yokes coming down the front — are formally known as Geneva bands.
Lying at the very gates of the Alps, Geneva is a cosmopolitan city housing some 200 international organisations from Fifa to the Red Cross.
The cobbled streets of the Old Town are lined with classy boutiques, although if spirituality is more your thing make your way uphill to the huge Cathédrale StPierre. Dark and sombre, as befits the headquarters of Calvinism, there are few fripperies.
As you look round this huge, empty, gothic barracks of a place, you might nod wisely at this dichotomy: Protestant disdain for earthly riches subsequently inspired capitalists to fill Geneva with earthly riches — today there can be few cities of this size boasting more restaurants, bars, cafes, upmarket shopping malls and clubs. How Calvin would have laughed. Or maybe not.
Although one of the smallest cities in Europe, Geneva still boasts 30 museums and art galleries, including the Voltaire Institute — the entirely wonderful philosopher lived here in the 18th century. His quote, ‘Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities’ has stood the test of time admirably.
Lord Byron, the original ‘mad, bad, and dangerous to know’ chap, fetched up here, as did Johann Jacob Schweppe — yep, that one. Tapping into a somewhat overworked Swiss cliché, Johann was a watchmaker before turning to carbonated drinks.
Notwithstanding its cache of European A-listers, its fine old buildings, its alluring history and its swish stores, it is Geneva’s setting that is its glory. The city is gathered round the point where the River Rhône flows into Lake Geneva (Lac Leman in French), with the backdrop of the Jura Mountains and the peaks of the Savoy Alps. I do have to warn you, however, that you’re likely to encounter battalions of super-fit sporty types out running, jogging or speedwalking in most places.
On the subject of gin, the word does not seem to be derived from Geneva but from ‘genever’ meaning juniper. So you can see where the confusion arose.
Whatever, the place is definitely a tonic (Schweppes probably, although other mixer brands are available) — and mine’s a double, ideally served on the banks of Lac Leman with a fine view of Mont Blanc thrown in. How on earth Mary Shelley ever managed to come up with the story of Frankenstein while admiring the same view, I’ll never know. But Smoke on the Water, written by Deep Purple as they gazed out on Lake Geneva — yes, I get that.