I exit Glasgow’s bus station and turn into Buchanan street. Noise fills my ears. People are sitting on the street stairs listening to three musicians trying out their skills. As I make my way towards the flat every pub on the way is booming with sound. It’s Saturday afternoon. The city is alive.

Just 24 hours before I was waking from Geneva’s Old Town to the John Knox hotel. The loudest sound was the movement of the trams. If there was any cars honking while people while trying to get home after a busy week, I don’t remember it.

Maybe the Swiss are quiet people. Or maybe quietness is a feature of diplomacy, and Geneva used to be loud as any city before the League of Nations got its seat there in 1920. The Palace of Nations building, built between 1929 and 1938, symbolises compromise too. The architects of the leading entries of the competition that attracted 337 projects, were chosen to collaborate on the final design.

The internet reveals little about the building. It is possible it was the most remarkable building of its time; or at least, the most remarkable building left after the destruction of World War II. Today it is overshadowed by taller, and maybe more important offices overlooking the Nations square. Walking from the south (or south-east) on Avenue Giuseppe-Motta reveals an interesting order of things: as soon as the residential area ends, the garden walls of small office buildings are spiked with metal so that they make sitting difficult, if not impossible. Then, on both sides of the avenue, almost as a gate, stand the buildings of Deloitte and PricewaterhouseCoopers. The consultancy / financial services pair is followed by the seemingly ever expanding complex of the World International Property Organisation on one side, and the International Telecommunication Union on the other side of the street. Both organisation are inclined towards commercial interests. Finally, across a mini-transport hub the United Nations office in Geneva rests behind a tall fence that hides most of its facade from the public eye.

The road to the left of the Palace of Nations leads to the statue of Mahatma Gandhi - the symbol of nonviolent resistance. The small change of elevation does not require more effort when walking, but it puts the Russian Mission to Geneva and the American Mission to Geneva on a higher ground than the Palace of Nations: it may be that the two permanent members of the Security council are positioned in relative order to each other, with the US being more up the hill. The rights side of the Avenue de la Paix has the UN and Gandhi - two very symbols of peace. The left side of the same road has Russia and the US with the International Committee of the Red Cross between them: the symbols of power with the organisation that is supposed to care for civility in the messy business of war.

The Route de Pregny then leads towards private properties which are under 24 h surveillance. Tall gates hide whatever is inside the grounds, and here, silence is only broken by the barking of a dog. The path leads through a empty field before reaching the John Knox hotel - a building that can only be remembered because its modesty does not fit in the broader architectural landscape.

I’m standing in front of the Palace of Nations and trying to take a picture of the still-standing nations’ flags. A small group of pro-Tibet activists are waving their own flags. The fountain bursts with water from the ground and silences their protest. It is an interesting site for tourists who place their cameras on tripods to capture the play of the sunshine with the waterdrops. But, it corners the protesters at the edge of the square: its primary purpose is to be a police water-cannon disguised as a cultural artefact. Together with the benches designed to prevent sleeping under Geneva skies, it symbolises another power-play in the international organisations’ host city.

(The trip to Geneva was part of the Human Rights and International Politics PG program at University of Glasgow.)