Lausanne

Nostalgia hit me hard when I saw the dog-eared Fodors guide to Switzerland lurking at the far end of the shelf. Ok – here is the story. In the late nineties, I decided that life without an MBA from an ‘international” B-school was an evolutionary dead-end and decided to rectify it. One of my choices was this school in Switzerland, in a place called Lausanne. After a few passes, the boffins there decided to ask me over for an interview. And so I bought a Fodors guide to figure out how to reach & stay in Lausanne.

Eventually a local witch-doctor beat me with a broom and splashed cockerel blood over me to successfully dispel the MBA ghost.

But Lausanne remains. A wonderful little place in an orderly little country that I chanced upon only because I was temporarily possessed (the need to occasionally invite ghosts into one’s life will get a post – another time).

Now for my closing messages. To the Swiss gentleman & his Indonesian wife that owned & ran the Regina Inn, my thanks for their warmth. To the uber efficient Swiss transport system, an appreciative nod. To The Good Lord who produced Switzerland, keep them coming. To the friendly neighbourhood ghost, hey the drinks are on me.

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