of skiing. I’ve never been before, and I figured I couldn’t visit Switzerland without doing some kind of snow sport.’
He brushes away the air in a brusque dismissive manner. ‘It’s very easy, you’ll master it in no time.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ I add, doubtfully. Clearly, he has no idea that my balance is a bit like an elephant on a spinning top. Still, his faith in me fills my mind with visions of myself elegantly speeding down black runs, my hair fanning out behind me gloriously. However, I’m very aware the reality is that I’ll be arse over tit with most likely a broken leg and frostbite by the end of the first day.
After some more chit chat, I begin to feel like I’m sharing the journey with an old friend, Fred is so easy to get along with. As he wanders off to find the on-board loo, I shrug off my jacket and relax into my seat. We’re already well into the journey and the city of Zurich is long behind us. I’ve been eyeing the scenery whilst chatting but having the quiet time to fully gaze out of my window at the breath-taking green valleys that lie beyond, is overwhelming. Rolling hills of the greenest pastures flit by me, a backdrop of magnificent snowy topped mountains behind, their grandeur intimidating as the sun peaks above them and spills down onto the picturesque landscape below. Traditional Swiss wooden chalets dot the land and I feel like I’ve been transported into an episode of Heidi.
By the time Fred returns, the landscape has changed to another lake and as I look at the glittering blue water, I feel overcome with the desire to change my life in a profound way. This is it – that defining moment people talk about. The one where you supposedly have a lightbulb moment and realise you need to make big, serious changes. I want lakes and mountains in my life more often. I want impromptu random meetings with people like Fred and I want brightly coloured macarons – lots of them! I just need a plan.
‘Can I ask, do you like working at the hotel Fred?’ I suddenly wonder if he’s also going through inner tumult or if it’s just me that has totally hit the wall with my regular life.
He nods his head wistfully. ‘I love it, I get to meet some wonderful people and I always wanted to work in hospitality. It’s taken many years to work my way up, but I’m enrolled on the Montana management course and it begins in a few months’ time.’ His face lights up. ‘It’s what I’ve been working towards and then once it’s completed, Enrique and I plan to explore the possibility of living and working abroad.’
‘Wow. That would be amazing. I guess there’s plenty of hotel management jobs all over the world?’ I note the fervour in Fred’s face as he’s talking – he has something I simply don’t. Excitement about the future.
‘There’s many jobs. I know many people working in good hotels in Dubai and a friend works in Spain. It shouldn’t be hard to find something.’ He looks at me curiously. ‘What about you?’
‘You mean with my work?’ I hesitate, wondering what to say. Because really, what is there to say? With Jay, I thought I would have children so I didn’t think long-term about my career because I’d be a mum and a wife. I realise now how pathetic that sounds, even to myself. In my younger, pre-Jay years, I’d once dreamed of achieving Head of Department status but now the reality of that role holds no illusion. It’ll be a heck of a lot more work, headache and responsibility for not a lot more money.
‘I’m OK where I am – I’ve been with the same school for six years and it’s a good place to work,’ I answer truthfully. Then I find myself backtracking. ‘But I don’t know… I’m not loving it as much as I once did.’ I stumble for words, realising it’s the first time I’m voicing my concerns aloud. ‘Recently, I’m starting to feel like I need something more from life. A bit more adventure, I guess.’
‘Do what I plan to do then.’ He says it so flippantly I almost don’t catch what he’s referring to. He seems to understand I’m confused. ‘Get yourself a job abroad.’ His phone suddenly beeps and before I have time to respond, he answers it, immediately drawn into an engaging conversation in German.
I turn to stare out of the window and chuckle to myself at the absurdity of his throwaway comment. Me, working abroad? How would that even be possible? I mean, yes, I’ve thought many times about how lovely it would be to just hop on a plane and relocate to somewhere hot and tropical. But it’s a fantasy. How would my family react, what about my mortgage, what would I do for work, not to mention finances? You can’t just up and leave everything behind and start afresh alone, can you? No, not if you’re already at an age where you’re supposed to be settled and have it together. Pre-Jay that would’ve been possible. But at thirty-three?! Life doesn’t work like that. But then I hear a small voice inside myself whispering, ‘Or does it?’. I push it away and quietly tell myself to stop daydreaming.
By the time we reach the Italian region of Switzerland and are just a couple of stops away from Lugano, the vast difference in the appearance and energy of the places we’re travelling through is evident. We pass small backyard vineyards and finally, we reach our destination, which appears to be halfway up a steep hillside slope. Fred is already standing up.
‘We’re here. Welcome to Lugano.’
We disembark and I straight away notice that the Mediterranean influence is much more prominent in this part. Italian conversation drifts all around me as we walk the short distance to the strange, one-car railway service that Fred has informed me will take us down the mountain and deposit us in the heart of the old town. I feel quite a world away from Zurich.
We squeeze into the already crammed carriage and begin our descent.
‘So, I will point you the direction of where to browse and have a coffee and then I need to be off to meet my sister, is that OK?’ He looks at me slightly concerned, as if he feels I might have been expecting him to chaperone me for much longer.
‘Of course, that’s perfect. I’ll happily look around by myself and make a day of it.’ I realise he might be wondering about whether I need his assistance for the return journey. ‘And I’ll make my own way home. Now I know the way, it’s very simple.’
‘You’re sure?’ he asks, as the funicular pulls to an abrupt stop, eyeing me like I’m a child.
‘I’m certain. I’m a big girl – I think I can handle it.’ I wink, and he laughs, as we join the flurry to leave the small carriage, greeted by a wave of pleasant heat and bright sunshine. We walk towards a square and Fred begins pointing out places I must explore as he tells me we’re headed for the lake. We pass palm trees gently blowing in the breeze and a waft of sweet-smelling fig trees, inviting small shops selling random wares and many high-end luxury designer stores. It’s clear from the many banks on corners, men in business suits and well-heeled women tottering the cobblestones in stilettos that this is not just a laidback, lakeside vacation stop. It’s a financial hub. Yet, everyone looks slightly more relaxed here, with carefree expressions and a slower pace of walking.
I take a delighted breath as the road opens out onto a long promenade and an expanse of beautiful freshwater lake sits magnificently before me.
‘Goodness – this is beautiful.’
Fred nods, a small smile on his face. ‘It is. There are many beautiful places in this canton. And if you happen to decide to stay longer, you could do a trip across to Lake Como. It’s an hour’s train journey from here.’ He points across the horizon.
My mind is suddenly awash with visions of myself coasting along Lake Como on a sailboat, dressed in oversized sunglasses and a headscarf as I wave to George Clooney who is perched on the balcony of his hillside villa. I reluctantly remember that I’m not a film star
