It might have taken a trip back to Geneva to realise that after all these years maybe Paris has become my home.
For the first time I did not "feel" Calvin's city as my own. I called Geneva home for ten years. My career took off there, it is where I met my hubby AND we got married in the Anglican church in the town center nearly two decades ago.
Geneva is a rare breed of a city. I have been coming back to this global hub of diplomacy and banking year after year with the intentions of maybe one day settling down in its multicultural environment. French influence is widespread, from the language to gastronomy but with the unmistakable touch of Swiss efficiency and organization.
However, as I walked past Les bains des Paquis, where I use to stake out a spot on the pier jutting into the lake to catch musical performances at sunset after a day spent intermittently sunbathing and swimming, strolled down the rue du Marché which was pulsing with life and admired the Jet d'Eau creating a sky-high plume, kissed by a rainbow on sunny days, the feeling of familiarity was removed one step further than during my previous visits.
Does this mean that Paris is becoming home after all?