This is Lausanne, on the edge of Lake Geneva (Lac Leman). I snapped the photograph above from our room just minutes after checking in, remarking at the beauty that lay all around us, and then we set out walking to see what lay in store.
I am writing this months after our trip and just several weeks after the leaders of the U.S., Iran and several other countries met in Lausanne to hammer out a historic framework for (hopefully) reaching an agreement on nuclear weapons. So as I write this I can't shake them from my mind. It has colored my memory of the town and all of the wonderful things it offers to see, eat and drink.
This area of Switzerland is known for a certain kind of wine - Chasselas. Clean, dry, slightly floral, it is easy to drink and good with food, particularly Swiss cheeses. The hills around Lausanne are covered with vineyards, and we took a long, meandering walk outside of the city, looking down on the lake that changes so slowly - langorous boats, glacial clouds - one could easily mistake it for a very large still-life.
I now wonder if the chief negotiators took a similar walk? Maybe some of their diplomats or aides? A stroll through the zen-like labyrinth of lush vines, overlooking the deep, calm water, could only help advance a peace process. At the very least, it would help prepare the mind for rest, which might then lead to a breakthrough in negotiations.
We also stopped at a farmers market. The smells - the funk of the cheese, the rich blood of the meats, the sweetness of the fruits - focused our minds on one of the fundamentals of mankind - what to eat. Let's see, Berner Alpkase or Vacherin? Do we want olives? Which kind of bread? Did you see those plums? How much for a bag?
Do you hear anything in there about numbers of centrifuges or enrichment capability? Anything about sanctions? No. So, I hope that members of the negotiations took time to get out to the market. Nothing focuses attention on the universal needs and desires like a trip to a good farmers market. Why would I want to plan for your destruction when I could instead plan a delightful lunch?
Speaking of lunch, we had ransacked the market like the 3rd division...wait, too militaristic a metaphor... We carried our market bounty along the winding vineyard path until we found just the right spot for a picnic. Sausage, two types of cheese, fresh bread, tomatoes, and plums for dessert. It was a feast for four and came with a complimentary view of Lake Geneva.
We sat and we ate and nothing else mattered, not really.
Surely there must have been meals like this while negotiations were taking place? Quiet moments when all that could be heard was the song of birds, the buzz of insects and the chewing of diplomats?
Upon further thought, this could be a secret weapon. I hope I am not spilling the beans on top-secret State Department strategy, but what better way to gain concessions from your enemy than by treating them to a picnic on a hillside overlooking a lake? Get them all sated and drowsy, warm thoughts of love for mankind and mother earth emanating from their belly and then POW, get them with a counter-offer. They will never know what hit them and they likely won't care.
Note to the State Department: More picnics with our enemies, stat!
After the picnic we walked on, through picturesque little towns and more lovely vineyards, eventually landing at a place that had all of the wines of the region available for purchase and tasting. We decided to stay and try a small flight of Chasselas wines of varying quality and price.
This was a proper tasting, as in the intention is to try small amounts of a few to find a favorite or two to buy for later. But after a long day of walking and hours after the picnic had ended, those few tastes did manage to go to our heads a little - a pleasant wine buzz to wrap up the afternoon.
Looking back, a couple of thoughts come to mind: Observant Muslims are supposed to avoid alcohol. The easy-drinking wines we tried that day would be hard for anyone to pass up, and I could see the Iranian negotiating team being tempted, what with the grueling hours and stressful situation.
Do you see where I am going with this? I am picturing someone from the U.S. team offering just a taste, a little sample, to his counterpart on the Iranian team. One taste leads to another, then the other diplomats wonder what all the smiles are about, and they want to try, and before you know it you have diplomats on all sides abuzz with white wine and giggling like naughty schoolgirls.
As the Iranians sober up they realize they have indeed been a bit naughty, and they would rather it not get back to the folks at home. I am not talking hookers and cocaine - no, that is for Secret Service guys and way too tasteless for a classy place like Lausanne and the caliber of people involved in the negotiations. I mean just a glass or two of the local stuff to loosen the mood and, you know, keep as our little secret, provided certain members who are expected to abstain and don't want to have to explain themselves agree to play ball. Understood?
We wrapped up our walk down on the dock, expensive looking boats sharing the water with big, fat swans. There was a park near the water and a mixture of Swiss humanity was out enjoying the pleasant evening air. We would eventually make our way back into town for dinner, which involved, for me, a very large portion of Steak Tartare that deserves it own post.
Suffice it to say, it was a beautiful day. The kind of day that makes one appreciate every moment one has and wish nothing but good things for others. I can only assume the organizers of this phase of negotiations had experienced a similar feeling and knew that this was the place to get the parties together.
I would recommend something similar for our U.S. Congress, in the hopes they might actually drop some of their partisan fetishiizing and actually make some progress on the huge issues facing the U.S. (Iran and the Middle East being just one of those). But then again, no, they don't deserve such a nice trip.
