The ascent up the steep cobblestone lanes of Geneva's *Vieille Ville* felt like a journey backward through five centuries of European history. The narrow alleys were lined with towering seventeenth-century townhouses constructed of honey-colored molasse limestone, their arched stone entryways and wrought-iron gas lamps shrouded in a clinging, ethereal lake mist. The damp winter chill smelled of wet slate, chimney smoke, and the deep, rich history of the Reformation. To…
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