TRAVEL WITH SERENA--AUTHOR RAYNE GOLAY ON GENEVA, SWITZERLAND

            

Geneva the Beautiful

Author Rayne E. Golay was born in Helsinki, Finland. She holds a Masters degree in psychology. After moving to Geneva, Switzerland, she worked in a multi-national company as drug and alcohol counselor. She took early retirement to write full time. Her first novel Life is a Foreign Language is about love in the afternoon of life. The Wooden Chair is her second novel. Nowadays, she lives in Southwest Florida, busy marketing, blogging, and editing her third book. Learn more about Rayne at her website.

About half of Leini’s story in The Wooden Chair takes place in Geneva. Thank you for the chance to take a tour of this city, home to me for most of my adult life. I raised my two children there, had a great career. Now when I go back to visit my children, granddaughter and dear friends, it’s as a tourist.

To rent a car in Geneva, is pointless because parking is very limited, expensive and hard to come by. It makes sense to avail myself of the free pass to public transportation most hotels give to their guests. The public transportation network in Geneva is excellent, trams and trolley buses get me to most places I want or need to go. Taxis are also affordable.

The hotel where I usually stay is right in the heart of city center, a spitting distance from L’Horloge Fleurie, The Flower Clock, and the lake. People call it Lake Geneva, but in fact it’s real name is Lac Léman. It’s bordered in the north by the Jura mountain range, in the south by the Salève and France. To the north is Lausanne.

My day as a tourist starts with a renversé (coffee with hot milk) and a croissant at one of the many cafés on the main street. The one I prefer is Café Martel on Rue du Marché with a variety of canapés and quiches. If I hang out at Café Martel long enough, sooner or later one or two of my friends will drop by; it’s the “in” place, any time of the day.

One street closer to the lake, on Rue du Rhone, is a panoply of the world’s luxury stores, but that will have to wait for a rainy day. Today is warm, the sun is shining, and Geneva is a city made for strolling. There are numerous lush parks with a variety of old trees. Among my favorites is Parque des Eaux Vives, a walking distance from Café Martel. I like to stroll along the quay, admire the beautiful sail boats bobbing on the waters. My sauntering takes me to the nearby Rose Park with it’s display of innumerable varieties of roses. Every June, one rose is voted the rose of the year. In fact, this tradition inspired the scene in my novel LIFE IS A FOREIGN LANGUAGE, in which Michael, my male protagonist, enters his specimen rose in a contest and goes on to win the highest nomination, Rose of Roses.

If I head back the way I came, I hop on the ferry to head over to the right bank, passage paid by my free pass. Here are some of the most luxurious hotels imaginable. I keep repeating the word “luxury,” but that’s Geneva, home of luxury. On the left bank are the luxury homes of the affluent and celebrities; on the right bank are the luxury hotels; in the city center, you have the luxury shops. On this tour of my home town, however, my next goal is the United Nations (UN), Le Palais des Nations. It’s situated in the beautiful Ariana Park with trees over a hundred years old. The city of Geneva makes the Ariana Park available to the UN for as long as UN exists. Whenever I had guests from out of town, I took them to the UN for a one hour guided tour. I have something of a weak spot for the UN and it’s history.

My stomach is growling so it must be time for lunch. The taxi drops me at Hotel Kempinski. The lift on the façade of the building affords me a splendid panoramic view of the lake, the Jet d’Eau fountain and the Mont Blanc. In the restaurant on the top floor, I ignore the proffered menu. A visit to Geneva wouldn’t be the real deal without Filets de Perches et Pomme Frittes, a local delicacy. And a glass of an open white wine, any local white will do as they usually are reliable to be palatable. No dessert for me, only an espresso.

Replete, on the quay, I wander in the direction of the Mont Blanc bridge. Weather allowing, it’s about a half hour’s brisk walk to Globus, the downtown department store. Everything in Geneva is pricy, but the wonderful perfumes, Guerlin my favorite among them, the shoes, handbags, the jewelry, in fact, everything in the store is eye candy, and that’s free. Underground, accessible by an escalator, is the most irresistible, must tempting, mouthwatering, generous display of cheeses. You can have the cakes and the ice creams and the cookies, I’ll take cheese any time. The cheese master behind the counter, shaves off a sliver of Gruyere, which melts in my mouth. He points at this cheese and that, extols their virtues, maturity, provenance. Unable to resist, I buy a piece of Tomme de Savoie, a cave-aged mild but flavorful cheese from across the border in Savoie, France. It will go well with crackers and Caesar’s Bride, a flavored tea I prefer with an afternoon snack.

This is just a quick view of Geneva, as much as I can cram into one day. For the evening, my husband joins me at Café du Centre, close by the hotel. I order moules marinieres, mussels cooked in white wine with chopped shallots, garlic and parsley with baguette to dunk. My husband has raclettes, melted Raclette cheese over boiled potatoes with pickles and pearl onions.

My plan for tomorrow is a day long tour of the lake by boat. When the weather is sunny, the wind not too stiff, it’s a wonderful way of seeing some of the little towns bordering the lake; Nyon, Rolle, Morge, then over to the French side to Evian and Hermance. The thing that strikes me at every stop, is the profusion of flowers; pansies, begonias, azaleas in window and balcony boxes, in planters on the streets and all along the quay. Wherever I turn, I’m met with pristine cleanliness and an explosion of colors.

The places I still want to visit is one of the outdoor fresh markets with great produce arranged to please the eye; the flea market where, if I’m lucky, I can get a pleasing painting, Bavaria crystal objects, all at bargain prices.

There’s so much to see and experience in this city. This is but a glimpse of Geneva the beautiful.

The Wooden Chair

winner of the Florida Writers Royal Palm Award

Throughout her childhood and teenage years, Leini suffers both physical and emotional abuse from her mother, Mira. Years later, married to a wonderful man, Bill, a mother herself, Leini is determined to break the pattern of abuse. With pain, she struggles through past hurts, to grow into a nurturing and loving parent and wife, a successful professional. Her victory is complete when she is able to forgive Mira.

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TRAVEL WITH SERENA - SOUTHWEST FLORIDA WITH GUEST AUTHOR RAYNE GOLAY

Award-winning women’s literary fiction novelist Rayne Golay joins us today to discuss the seduction of Southwest Florida and how it’s played a part in her writing. Life is a Foreign Language is her first novel. Her second novel, The Wooden Chair, will be released later this summer. Learn more about Rayne at her website. -- AP

Southwest Florida Seduces

Quite a few years ago, my aunt and uncle used to flee the soul numbing cold and snow and darkness of the winter months in their homeland, Finland. They stayed in a condo in Fort Myers, Florida, and painted delicious pictures of the pleasures they experienced. Together with my husband, we ended up by renting a house in Florida, complete with a pool and a back yard with an orange and a grapefruit tree.

This was the beginning of my love affair with Southwest Florida; the heat, the sun, the glittering waters of the Gulf of Mexico, the lush vegetation, I loved it all, still do. I’d go for walks in my neighborhood and gasp, “Oh, look at that”! I’d grab my husband’s arm if he was with me, point at a flock of pristine white ibis and say, “Isn’t this lovely,” as I stared in silent admiration at the sky with ever-changing clouds and super cells.

When I started writing my first novel, Life is a Foreign Language, it was a given I’d set the story in Southwest Florida. During one of my walks, I stopped to admire a tall jacaranda tree with blue-purple flowers. The florescence was rich, an azure cloud against the white billowing clouds.

When Nina, my female protagonist, meets Michael, much about him attracts her, but she “falls” into his jacaranda blue eyes, compelling, arresting in their intensity. I was able to pour into this story my passion for gardening, experiencing it vicariously through Michael’s trial-and-error attempts to grow the perfect rose.

I must have inherited my fascination for gardening from my father. Despite the harsh weather conditions in my native Finland, my Dad tended a gardenia in our home. When he first planted it, it was no more than a twig. Over time, and with tender care from my Dad, it grew into a bush. Each year in early April it carried a few buds. For my father’s birthday at the end of April it produced one white flower to honor his day.

When I bought my house here in Southwest Florida, before I did anything at all about the yard, I planted a gardenia outside my bedroom widow. Its spicy and exotic perfume fills the air when the bush is covered in white flowers—in April. And of course the intoxicating scent of gardenia wafts through the pages of Life is a Foreign Language.

Life is a Foreign Language

After thirty-seven years of her husband's infidelities, Nina has had enough! Wounded she files for divorce, leaves family and native France. She meets Michael with whom she experiences fantastic joy that tuns to agonizing sorrow when he is brutally torn from her. Alone and bereft, she must continue the legacy Michael has left; trust, the awareness that she is strong enough to survive on her own, against all odds.

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