Paris to Geneva. 3 hours train on the TGV. The train zooms through the foggy morning country side at 300 kilometers an hour. This is the fastest train in the world, a technological achievement envied by the railroad engineers of the world.
« I wander if the cows can even see us pass » I joke with my dad.
Geneva. The early december air cool, and fresh on the skin. After dropping the bags at the hotel, we go for lunch at Paris Cafe, one of the oldest Geneva establishments. No menu here, only one option: a nice piece of steak covered by a rich butter and fresh herbs sauce.
Next to our table, a man in his 40’s is going through a clock magazine. Around the butter sauce, a conversation starts.
« Look at this watches » the man says « technically speaking, the most one can cost is 10 000 euros. People now buy them for 125 000 and more. That’s just crazy. »
« Why do you think people want to spend that much, in a watch that is not worth it ? « I ask.
« I dont know. To feel special I guess. They want to have something that no one else has. »
Between meat and desert, the man tells us about his dad, who used to take him to Paris Cafe when he was a child. A family of clock makers, he knows about his time.
To digest from a good meal, and a couple of grapas digestifs, I decide to go walk around town. As usual, I let my feet take me where my eyes desire. I dont know where I am going, but I walk, enjoying the cold air on my face. Far away, I can see the Alps mountain tops, covered with white.
As I walk through this modern Europeen city, I recall the posters on the walls of guest houses in Nepal. Posters with rich chalet style houses, fat white babies, fancy cars and horses, each with mountains for backgrounds. On each poster a short sentence : « Happiness is where you make it. » « Smile and life will smile at you ». Nepalese like to think that Nepal is another Switzerland. As I walk through Geneva’s university neighboroods, libraries, and fancy shops, I can see nothing in common between Nepal and Switzerland, except maybe that they both have mountains. The power of marketing to create illusions truly is a magic art.
It is dark when I get back to the hotel. The christmas market shines of a thousand lights. My dad and I finish the evening with the culinary swiss speciality: a fondue.
I finish The Secret History of the Dalai Lamas by G V Grasdorff. A book retracing Tibet political and spiritual development since 620 AD with the first Tibetan King Songtsen Gampo. Once again, I think of the power of marketing. The new pro tibetan fashion seems to forget the actual history behind the fall of Tibet in the hands of the Chinese. A fall, similar to any other fall of any other empires around the world. Corrupted by their own priesthood, one day, the empire has to change, in order not to collapse onto itself.
So goes the cycle of life.
As any other religion, Tibetan buddhism believes in a spiritual holy war that will take place in the mind and emotions of people. According to the kalachakra initiation given world wide by the Dalai Lama, in 2024, buddhists will win the war against the five poisons of ignorance, desire, hatred, pride, and jealousy. The world will be happy, and everyone will find the Buddha. It's a very nice story indeed.
I think how special it is that all religions have the same special story, in which they each win. Every time of history being it’s own space, every story showing the limits of man’s imagination during a certain period.
As we take the train back to Paris, I watch the mountains pass. In the train a group of musicians are loud.
« I guess they want to feel special » echoes the clock maker words, as the mountains turn to valleys, valleys to flat country side, until we’re back in Paris.
In Paris, a lot of special people hurry in the subway, each going to a special job, each meeting with special friends.
Each special in their uniqueness.
Life really a special occasion, to celebrate, every minute passing… even if we don’t have a 125 000 euro clock to watch the seconds pass.
Thank you dad 
