Vevay Markets
Switzerland is so bloody neutral they have different power points to the rest of Europe so I packed my laptop up and took a ride to Lausanne.
I was offered the ride when I went into a ski shop in Villiers and presented my accent for inspection. Kirsty and Mark-Andre have been running the store for 18 months now after flicking between Australia and Switzerland for the better part of the last five years. Kirsty’s parents live half an hour from Bathurst – let the cliché about the size of this planet rear its head.
They were going to an annual market in Vevay, on the shore of Lake Geneva, about 40 minutes from Villiers. Traditional this market lasted for as long as a week and was the annual pilgrimage for farmers from throughout the Riviera to bring their food to town. Nowadays Gipsies hock fake Juventus shirts and Chinese sell dagwood dogs from caravans. But if you leave the main square there are tiny nooks of hand made jewellery and local jams, school children raising money by selling cakes and patisseries by the dozen.
One pastry I delighted in literally translated as “a salt” and I’m still desperately trying to understand why every man, women and child in Vevay doesn’t have diabetes, blood pressure and marinated limbs by the time they’re 21. It is a pie covered in a lightly melted cheese with the texture of quiche but its predominant flavour is salt. The locals were having them for lunch but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, especially after having pizza for breakfast at the Vatican.
We left the market and followed Lake Geneva along one of the world’s most expensive stretches of freeway, it is a bridge linked by tunnels all the time fooling you into thinking you’re actually locked onto the side of the mountain. Lausanne is firstly the capital of the International Olympic Committee so there are hotels and shops to match the marketing. It is a service centre and not the prettiest piece of Switzerland.
Kirsty and Mark-Andre had to pick up a mischievous alarm clock so I thought I’d try my luck for an adaptor. I watched as Mark-Andre explained I was from Australia and needed an adaptor – the guy initially laughed at my prospects – there’s not exactly a huge market for Australian-Swiss electrical adaptors. But here’s an idea, the sparky came back with a euro-swiss adaptor so now I’m carrying two adaptors – one will be a souvenir from the neutral nation.
He gave me the adaptor for free – for him it was nothing for me it was a very welcome gift.
Kirsty and Mark-Andre are bloody good people and they gave me a tour of their region I could have got no other way. I’m very thankful for the insiders perspective.
I was offered the ride when I went into a ski shop in Villiers and presented my accent for inspection. Kirsty and Mark-Andre have been running the store for 18 months now after flicking between Australia and Switzerland for the better part of the last five years. Kirsty’s parents live half an hour from Bathurst – let the cliché about the size of this planet rear its head.
They were going to an annual market in Vevay, on the shore of Lake Geneva, about 40 minutes from Villiers. Traditional this market lasted for as long as a week and was the annual pilgrimage for farmers from throughout the Riviera to bring their food to town. Nowadays Gipsies hock fake Juventus shirts and Chinese sell dagwood dogs from caravans. But if you leave the main square there are tiny nooks of hand made jewellery and local jams, school children raising money by selling cakes and patisseries by the dozen.
One pastry I delighted in literally translated as “a salt” and I’m still desperately trying to understand why every man, women and child in Vevay doesn’t have diabetes, blood pressure and marinated limbs by the time they’re 21. It is a pie covered in a lightly melted cheese with the texture of quiche but its predominant flavour is salt. The locals were having them for lunch but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, especially after having pizza for breakfast at the Vatican.
We left the market and followed Lake Geneva along one of the world’s most expensive stretches of freeway, it is a bridge linked by tunnels all the time fooling you into thinking you’re actually locked onto the side of the mountain. Lausanne is firstly the capital of the International Olympic Committee so there are hotels and shops to match the marketing. It is a service centre and not the prettiest piece of Switzerland.
Kirsty and Mark-Andre had to pick up a mischievous alarm clock so I thought I’d try my luck for an adaptor. I watched as Mark-Andre explained I was from Australia and needed an adaptor – the guy initially laughed at my prospects – there’s not exactly a huge market for Australian-Swiss electrical adaptors. But here’s an idea, the sparky came back with a euro-swiss adaptor so now I’m carrying two adaptors – one will be a souvenir from the neutral nation.
He gave me the adaptor for free – for him it was nothing for me it was a very welcome gift.
Kirsty and Mark-Andre are bloody good people and they gave me a tour of their region I could have got no other way. I’m very thankful for the insiders perspective.
posted by Peter Veness at 5:16 pm
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