Okay…when I lived in Grand Sacconex, Switzerland going to France was a four-bus stop hop or a stroll through the countryside, so I often went to France for coffee, lunch or dinner, to leave my dry cleaning, to shop the marché or to meet up with friends living there. Where I live now in Corsier, it is a ten minute drive, and we might go to shop on a Sunday morning or enjoy the Japanese Restaurant across the border.
Going to Spain from my French nest to buy a T-shirt for my friend’s grandson takes a little longer, about 20 minutes by the back roads, nore if you stop along the way.
Still the feeling of smugness is there of being able to hop across a border in what used to take months of savings and planning. Of course if I were living in the middle of France or even the middle of Switzerland that wouldn’t be as easy, although in Switzerland reaching Italy, France, Austria or Germany for a day trip is feasible.
When I am back in Geneva next month, my first Sunday I will hop into France to catch up with a friend from my old apartment complex where I will stay with other friends to catch up with their activities before going to my home on the other side of the lake.
It isn’t the going to France or Spain or even Italy for pizza as I did with RB2 one spur of the moment Saturday that makes me feel smug. It is the activities that I do there are routine to mundance that what once was abnormal is normal that creates not just smugness but happiness.
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