SWEET TIMES BY THE LAKE
Taking an emotional and memorable tour of childhood favourites in Geneva, Switzerland, with grandma
‘I F you don’t come home soon, you’ll never get to hug her again”.
My younger sister’s words were still ringing in my ears when I booked my flight tickets to Geneva, Switzerland.
My grandma was sick and Thalia, 18, had spent the last month caring for her. Mamie, as we affectionately called her in French, needed help with everything.
This meant hospital and doctor appointments, cooking, cleaning and showering. She felt better on some days, but it was rare.
In a tearful whisper, Thalia was asking me to take over for a while.
I was born in Geneva but moved to Australia eight years ago because we followed my dad, an Australian yachtie who was missing the ocean too much. Three years had passed since my last visit to Geneva.
Off course, I missed my hometown dearly at first. But this homesickness was quickly replaced by day-to-day life.
Now, at 20 years old, I could think of hundreds of other destinations where I would rather spend my annual holidays – so selfish, I know. One phone call changed my mind. “Bonjour Mamie,” I said, speaking loudly into the phone so that my 87year grandmother could hear what I was saying from the other side of the world.
We talked about her medical condition, and she admitted she was desperately craving some company.
Our chat made me realise it was now or never.
I have never heard my Mamie so excited as when I told her I’d be by her side soon.
“Oh my darling, I’m already counting down the days,” she said with a trembling voice and I knew a few tears were gently rolling down her cheeks.
My Mamie Teresa was built of sweetness. I was only a toddler when my parents divorced and she would always take care of me when my mum and dad felt overwhelmed.
My earliest memories are helping her water the flowers by the pool in her old villa just a few minutes from Geneva’s old town.
“Make a list of all the things you would like to do one last time with me,” she told me on the phone.
Thinking back of my favourite childhood memories, I chose three things that I wanted to experience once more with my Mamie in my hometown Geneva.
ST BONIFACE CHURCH
The first thing I did when I arrived was to look through the family photo albums. Mamie was sitting on her rocking chair as she recalled her childhood.
“I was born in Tortosa, Spain,” she told me, taking a sip of coffee before each sentence. “I went to a state school but everything was difficult after the war.”
She explained that she met my grandfather at church after she moved to Geneva in 1959. Three months later, they were married.
“I was living at St Boniface in a pension for young Catholic girls,” she said, while I listened attentively.
“There was a little church, very beautiful, and it was the Father there that married us. The pension is not there any more but the church is.”
A few days later, Mamie and I visited St Boniface, where my grandparents had promised to love each other unconditionally in 1962.
LAKE GENEVA
The city of Geneva strings around the shores of Europe’s largest alpine lake, Lake Geneva.
Mamie used to take her five grandkids (I was eldest by 10 days) on a big steam boat to Ivoire, a little medieval village further up the lake.
It seemed a big expedition and we were always rewarded with fresh fish and chips if we behaved well.
I couldn’t help but feeling a sense of childish wonder when Mamie and I took our last trip to Ivoire together.
Holding her tightly, I watched with fascination the purple blue veins that ran like splintering map lines underneath her soft skin.
SWISS MEAL
I had always loved Mamie’s kitchen for its wonderful aromas. Being Spanish, she had cooked countless sumptuous paellas and tortillas throughout my childhood.
Mamie had lost nearly 10kg and she urgently needed to gain it back.
We stocked up on Swiss cheese, bread, chocolate and dried alpine meat from the farmers’ market. She laid out the feast on her prettiest hand-sewn tablecloth and undusted the fancy cutlery.
With each mouthful, a smile appeared on her face wrinkled by years of smiling.