Say Goodbye to America

by Ted Bauman
The Sovereign Investor

The first thing I noticed was the grass. It looked like the lawn at the foreclosure around the corner from my house back in Atlanta … albeit with better weeds.

I have a habit of “noticing the things that I notice” when I visit a country for the first time. In Uruguay, it was the well-kept gravel streets in the suburbs. In Madagascar, it was the abundant bougainvillea. In India, it was the smell of swamp, sewage and spices. It serves as a mnemonic tool and a way into finding out more about a place’s quirks.

Here in Geneva, it was the grass — as in uncut, wild and vaguely country villa-ish.

Turns out the Swiss like to let the grass grow a bit to remind them of their rural roots. For them, like me, cities are only a temporary nuisance on the lifelong journey back to the countryside.

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