Lake or sea?

Last weekend, I returned to Lausanne, had lunch with a friend, and strolled leisurely in the light rain, chatting as we wandered toward the lake. Starting from Renens, we walked down through the campus of the University of Lausanne, crossed the busy road near the sports center, and found ourselves in the tranquility of this little path.

In December, the trees had long shed their leaves, but their sturdy trunks and branches, standing like the pillars and dome ceilings of a cathedral, still shaded the path leading to the lakeshore.

In the distance, two ladies were approaching us, umbrellas in hand for the drizzling rain. Their fluffy white dog bounced along ahead of them, happy and lively, catching our attention. We couldn’t take our eyes off it, smiling as the puppy hopped around. As we passed by, the two women greeted us warmly, their faces full of smiles. They were telling us how much we adored their little dog, I guessed.

At the end of the path, it was Lac Léman (Lake Geneva), the largest lake in Western Europe. On clear days, you can see the town of Evian on the opposite shore and layers of snow-capped mountains. But in winter, clouds and mist often stand in the way. Just like that day, the lake was shrouded in a white haze. The view was limited – only the endless expanse of water and waves, carried by the cold wind, rippling toward the shore.

For a moment, as I stood there, gazing into the faraway of nothingness, I thought I was looking at the sea.

I grew up by the sea. As a child, my parents often took me to the shore to feel the cool breeze or swim. That is, until one day, I almost drowned in the ocean. After that, we mostly only did biking along the coast. Even in university, I studied by the sea. Just a few steps from the dorms, and I can see the sea. It is always in my sight. Back then, the sea felt like an inexhaustible, ever-present part of my life. It’s simply always there. But after graduating and moving away, I haven’t lived by the coast again.

That day, standing by Lac Léman, which seemed as vast as the ocean, I felt a enjoyable moment of quiet peace, but also a sudden wave of sense of loss. Without much thinking, I said, “Looking at this lake makes me feel a little sad.” My friend asked why, but I didn’t quite know what to say.

How this place looks like in summer can be found on google streetview. Shoutout to google user Mister PAD for uploading their images of this small pathway.