We are determined to find something worth seeing here. The clock was a waste, but the city famous for timepieces must have something to offer in that field. To that end, we went to the Patek Philippe watch museum.
Undaunted by it’s lack of an indicator on our map, Dad asked the front desk clerk for help. I told him to also ask if was worth our while. Dad returned with directions and a thumbs up on our destination.
We took lucky tram #13 across town.
Then Dad and I stood on a street corner turning our map every which way trying to get oriented to find our way. Once there, we couldn’t even figure out how to open the stupid door. We just kept pushing and pushing. Dad pointed at the sign with the hours on it (in French) and I assured him that, yes, it was open. Then he started pushing the buzzer. No one responded. We could see someone inside on the second floor watching us but making no effort to do anything. Finally I tried pulling the door and it opened. Duh.
The guy at the desk where we paid to get in tried talking to us in French. I did alright until he starting rattling off instructions at a kilometer a minute about checking our bags and coats downstairs. I hated admitting lingual defeat, but I had to.
You can’t take pictures in the museum, so you’ll just have to take my word for it that the watches on display are amazing. Kaitlyn raced past most of the cases at her usual brisk museum pace. Dad and I tried to see what we could. There are watches with the most intricate displays… tiny tightrope walkers, itty-bitty cherubs striking bells to mark the hours, watches hidden in rings, fans or pins shaped like baskets or bugs.
At last… something in Geneva worth the time. 