I spent last weekend in Geneva, Switzerland. As cities go, and granting that four days isn’t enough time to craft a well-informed preference, there’s nowhere I’d rather live. I have to emphasize, I’d rather not live in a city, but if I do, Geneva is it.

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I was predisposed to like Geneva, and Switzerland in general, because of what I knew about it before visiting.

First of all, there are aspect of it’s political system that I appreciate. Switzerland has a policy of armed neutrality; it hasn’t been at war for 205 years, since the defeat of Napoleon in 1815. And yet its neutrality isn’t feeble since it’s maintained through a combination of international cooperation and a strong national defense. Switzerland has a unique federal democracy as well, protecting rather than subordinating the sovereignty of cantons (their counties) and municipalities.

Switzerland has a relatively open market economy and low taxation, as well as high levels of education and wealth. Markets just work, and I prefer paying directly for the services I use rather than having bureaucrats chose which services I will pay for, whether or not I want or use them. And while high education and wealth aren’t unmitigated goods – educated people and rich people can be insufferable – given the alternative, I’ll bear with their downsides.

And finally, it’s a highly cosmopolitan country, while protecting the rights and privileges of its citizens from being co-opted by its large contingent of foreigners. I like living among people from around the world, and it’s one of the best things about Brussels. It would be hard to become a citizen in Switzerland, but I respect their cautious policy, even though I don’t benefit.

You get a certain type of person in a place like this. And while I like every type under the sun, I also dislike every type. I’m a liberal arts graduate, but gosh, they’re irritating sometimes. I’m an expat, but sometimes they’re the worst. Doubtless I’m insufferable in turn. The point is, I don’t idealize Swiss society, I just see more to favor than disfavor.

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I knew all this before visiting, and so my real question ought to be whether my positive bias was too abstract to matter. After all, how much does armed neutrality effect the day-to-day lives of people who live there? (Well, more than it might seem, but that’s another topic entirely.) The question is, how do I feel about the city and country after visiting?

As I walked around the city, I was surprised by the quiet. Residential areas weren’t crowded, not even in the nice weather. Sidewalks in the center didn’t make me feel like a salmon swimming upstream. Even major roads startled me by their moderate hum. I was in the central bus and train station, the airport, major grocery stories, and a restaurant without an empty chair – only the restaurant was loud. The central station was busy but relatively quiet. A city with less noise feels less like a city, and if it feels less urban, then it feels more pleasant.

Geneva was clean, though perhaps no more than you would expect from the city of John Calvin. It’s clean appearance goes beyond the lack of dirt and garbage and includes the infrastructure and architecture. I admit, it’s not dazzling to behold but quite plain, and sometimes it’s just downright old fashion. We stayed in an apartment building that went up in the early 60s. The plumbing, fuse panel, and elevator electronics were all original, and yet each looked well designed and continued to functioned well. Overall, it seems the society prefers to maintain and repair rather than throw-away and replace — “build it well and keep it well” will get no argument from me. In the same way, the city is clean because they keep it well.

One thing that surprised me was how friendly and helpful I found the people. A good example is our departure from the airport. We were given a jar of foie gras by a friend but weren’t sure if we could bring it on board. When we got to security we asked the lady stationed before the queue if it would be allowed. She didn’t know so she called someone over who brought it to someone at the scanners who then asked their supervisor. As our jar of goose liver passed from one person to another, they each made a joke. One pretended she was going to confiscate it to eat later. The supervisor who gave us final approval called across the security area that he’d allow it if we gave him enough money. I don’t often come across airport security who joke around about their job, let alone about soliciting bribes, and especially in full view of the public. Incidentally, they cleared the foie gras without taking a franc.

My final impression of Geneva comes from it’s surroundings. The Jura Mountains, a pre-Alp range, begin where Geneva ends. The Alps are only a little farther. We took a day trip, an hour by car, to Chamonix, France, situated at the foot of Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in Europe proper. More than anything else, a city’s proximity to mountains recommends it to me, and the Alps are a breath-taking range. I could write much more on the redeeming serenity of the mountains, but not now.

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As I’m wont to do, I have my pros and cons, my arguments for and against, and all the while, I’ve skirted the critical factor. It’s what sent me packing from my home town, even though I love it every time I visit. It’s what kept me moving on after three years living in the Rockies. It’s what kept me from settling in Alaska. And I don’t have a sliver of doubt that it’s part of what makes me want to move from Belgium. ‘I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote’ – those are the words of Ishmael from Moby Dick. It’s the impulse that sent him to the sea. It’s my torment too, an itch that wouldn’t leave me in Geneva.

So yes, I liked Geneva, and I love the Alps. Before visiting, I’d thought about living there someday. Visiting has only encouraged me. Of course, it was only four days, and hardly enough time to know if I’d like living there in fact. I won’t deny, there are some things that discourage me, most especially, the high cost of living. Its old-fashioned, European conservatism would probably get to me too, as it did in Flanders. But all of this fades into the periphery when I consider the one thing that’s ruined every place I’ve lived before: it’s the place that I am now.