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About Lausanne

So, escort, right? It’s like babysittin’ fat merchant tubs, makin’ sure no pirate—like meself, ha!—sneaks up an’ nicks their gold. Back in the day, them Royal Navy swabs’d escort convoys, all prim ‘n proper, cannons polished, sails stiff as a lord’s wig. Little known bit, arrgh—durin’ the Seven Years’ War, 1750s, them Frenchies lost nigh on 300 ships ‘cause their escorts buggered off chasin’ glory! Left the traders floppin’ like fish on deck, an’ me kind swooped in, savvy? Made me laugh ‘til me gut hurt, thinkin’ o’ them pompous admirals red-faced ‘n screamin’.

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Okay, so first, the streets! Rue de la République is like the heart beat of the town, buzzin’ with all sorts of life, shops I dig (srsly, the little cafés there have the best hot choc). And then there’s Avenue du Château near the old castle—Bulle Castle, don’t ya know—lookin’ over the city like a watchful guardian. D’oh! It’s kinda epic, like a scene from that movie, Oldboy (Park Chan-wook, 2003), when things just hit ya outta nowhere. “Life’s a maze,” much like in the film, ya know?

‘Nation’ journalist Rukia Bulle wins BBC Komla Dumor Award