Passport to Happiness - Carrie Stone

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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 and my bank balance is already hazarding in the danger zone. Plus, I don’t even own a headscarf or a sailboat. The Lake Como fantasy will have to be shelved.

      We arrive at what appears to be a public park entrance and Fred stops. ‘OK, so I need to leave you here – you should try the park though, you’ll like it.’ He glances at his watch. ‘I have to go now, Sandra is expecting me.’

      ‘No worries.’ As I thank him, and we say our goodbyes, I get a fresh wave of pleasure at the absurdity of my situation. Who knew just a fortnight ago that I’d soon be walking along a beautiful lake in a part of Switzerland I never knew existed?

      The hours fly by as I explore the magical city, taking particular delight in the giant chess game, its pieces half the height of my body. I stand and watch as two elderly locals, with flat-caps and walking sticks, banter in brisk Italian as a third man obediently moves their pawns upon their order. No matter which direction I stroll, the views from the lake are bewitching from every angle – the majestic deep green mountains in the distance, a sharp contrast against the clear blueness of the water. I contemplate a boat ride but decide against it, instead spending my time exploring my picturesque surroundings, revelling in the darker tan lines I see appearing on my arms.

      By late afternoon I’ve ventured into the higher part of the city, taking a larger funicular to Monte San Salvatore and following the footpath to the Chapel. As I reach the rooftop that I’ve heard so much about from Frederick, I’m mesmerised by what lies before me; breath-taking views over the city and out beyond onto the lake. In that moment, I realise that there is a vast expanse of beauty that I’ve not even touched upon in my limited travels and Frederick’s comment re-enters my mind.

      ‘I should look for work abroad.’ I find myself rolling the idea around in both my mind and my mouth. It’s not actually that absurd come to think of it. What’s to stop me from finding a teaching position in Europe? I’d still be close enough to travel home often and maybe, just maybe, it’s the new life I’m looking for? Heavy doubt creeps into my reflections. And what about the language barrier? I don’t have a natural ear for other languages, hell, I barely scraped through French classes during my own schooling years. But then, others do it, don’t they? I rebuke myself for once again letting myself drift into fantasy land and instead focus on the view.

      After a considerable time drinking in my surroundings, my stomach grumbles and my feet begin to throb again. A sharp chill in the late afternoon air brings me to my senses and I know it’s time to make my way back down the mountain to the lake and finally head back to Zurich. I begrudgingly begin to wander with the throng of people headed towards the funicular, the cool breeze reminding me that I’ll soon be back to my normal life in England, my small apartment, swamped with school drudgery and bills to pay. My heart drops and I sigh in reluctance.

      The journey back to my hotel feels long, and although the relaxing and warm train allows me the time to contemplate the experience of Switzerland so far, leaving Lugano has already given me a wistful sense of nostalgia. Frederick’s comment floats back to the forefront of my mind and as much as I try to reason with myself that it’s a silly notion that’ll never happen, I can’t help but fantasise about making the possibility a reality.

      A few hours later, when I’m finally back in my hotel room, soaking in a hot bath filled with an entire bottle of designer complimentary bubbles, I start once again thinking that although my life isn’t bad, it could be way more fun and exciting than it is and it’s at that moment that I finally decide it’s time to take some sort of serious action and liven things up. Jay might have ruined my idea of a future, but I haven’t exactly been trying my best to carve a new path for myself. I’ve lost my way and floated along without really considering what it is I truly want. It’s not enough anymore to sit back and hope that things will change for me. I’ve got to be the one to initiate things. And surely that first change has to be finding more fulfilment – through work perhaps? After all, happiness is an inside job, right?

      It’s time to become a woman on a mission. Everly Carter’s life is getting an overhaul…

       Chapter 4

      ‘Are

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