Last year, my family and I visited Lake Garda in Italy for the very first time.
The scenery was breathtaking, the food was incredible, and there was something about the atmosphere that felt strangely familiar, as though I was returning somewhere I’d been before rather than discovering somewhere new. None of us had ever visited Italy before but it was on our travel wish list for years. We love Italian food, Italian culture, and if I’m being completely honest, I’ve spent a good portion of my adult life romanticising it.
One thing that surprised me about where we were was just how close we were to Switzerland. When we collected our hire car the staff asked whether we planned to cross the border during our stay. We laughed and said no. At that point, Switzerland hadn’t even crossed our minds.
Then we looked at a map.
Suddenly, this place we’d always viewed as a separate holiday destination entirely was sitting practically next door.
In that moment, a tiny seed of curiosity was planted.
My husband did what he does best and immediately started researching train routes, travel times and ticket prices. Before long, we’d decided that if Switzerland was only a short train journey away, it would be rude not to visit.
And honestly?
Switzerland really did not disappoint – I recommend the trip if ever you have the opportunity.
The weather was questionable. We experienced rain that was… aggressive. But even through the downpours the scenery was beyond spectacular.
Oddly though, what has stayed with me most isn’t the mountains, the lakes or those postcard-perfect views.
It’s a group of American students I spotted in a coffee shop.
After a particularly heavy downpour, we took refuge in a quaint café along a Swiss high street. It was narrow at the front but stretched far back into the building, opening into a cosy downstairs seating area with only a handful of tables.
We were the only customers.
Well, almost.
In the opposite corner sat a group of eight young Americans.
They immediately caught my attention.
Partly because of their accents. Partly because they looked so young. University age, perhaps. Old enough to travel independently but still young enough that I couldn’t quite get my head around them casually navigating Europe without parental supervision!!!
At their age, I would have considered a weekend at Butlin’s the height of luxury.
This group were differen though casually sipping glasses of wine and cappuccinos in Switzerland surrounded by Louis Vuitton handbags and Prada sunglasses.
Needless to say, I became invested.
Very invested.
They were discussing their plans for Oktoberfest. Sat scrolling through hotels and debating locations. At first, I assumed they were one big friendship group travelling together, but as I listened, it became clear that some of them had only recently met. I had so many questions.
Then one of the boys casually announced that he was going to call his dad to see if he could get them a discount at the Hilton.
A discount at the Hilton!
I was already intrigued, but now I was hooked.
A few minutes later, his phone rang.
From the snippets I overheard, his father seemed to be asking why he needed the discount and how many rooms they wanted. The young lad explained the situation and was told to “leave it with him”. Apparently, their account manager would see what they could do.
Their blinking account manager!
Meanwhile, I was sitting there thinking that the only discounts my dad ever gave me involved a computers for schools voucher he got from the weekly shop!
What a life.
I should probably admit at this point that I may have become a little too interested in their conversation. I caught a couple of them looking over in my direction and suddenly became very aware that I was staring a little too long.
Not long afterwards, they gathered their things and left to make their plans elsewhere. Darn it!
I was genuinely disappointed.
I wanted answers. I had a million questions.
Did they ever make it to Oktoberfest?
Did the Hilton discount come through?
Were they all secretly heirs to hotel empires?
Or were they simply young people having adventures in a way I’d never experienced at their age?
I suppose I’ll never know.
But that rainy afternoon in Switzerland gave me a fascinating glimpse into a world completely different from my own.
The funny thing is, I’ve thought about those Americans several times since that afternoon.
Not because I actually care whether they got their Hilton discount or made it to Oktoberfest – well, maybe a little, right?
What really stayed with me was how quickly I’d built an entire story around them. A group of people I had never met or interacted with.
In less than twenty minutes, I’d decided they were wealthy, glamorous, carefree and living lives that were somehow bigger and more exciting than my own.
I’d mentally filed them under “rich and famous”.
The reality is, I truly had absolutely no idea who they were.
For all I know, they’d spent years saving for that trip. Perhaps the designer bags were gifts or fakes. Maybe they were working their way around Europe on a shoestring budget and splitting accommodation eight ways. Maybe the Hilton discount was an employee or family perk.
The truth is, I didn’t know their story – I still don’t.
And that’s when I realised how often I do this. How often we all do this.
We catch a glimpse of someone’s life and fill in the blanks ourselves.
And social media has made it even easier.
We see the beach holiday but not the credit card bills.
We see the dream house but not the twenty years spent working towards it.
We see the weight loss photo but not the tears, setbacks and hundreds of failed attempts that came before it.
We see the highlight reel and convince ourselves we’re looking at the whole film.
The older I get, the more I realise that every single person is carrying a story we know nothing about.
Some people really do come from extraordinary privilege – there is no denying that truth.
But some don’t.
Some people have advantages we’ll never have.
Others are quietly battling challenges we could never imagine.
Most of us are somewhere in the middle.
What struck me most is that a younger version of me would probably have looked at those Americans and felt envious.
I might have compared my life to theirs.
I might have wondered why I didn’t have those opportunities – I know I would have been bitter.
But sitting there in that little Swiss coffee shop, with my husband and children, on a holiday we’d worked hard to afford, I suddenly saw things differently.
A few years ago, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to travel as much as we do now.
A few years ago I was dreaming about a life that felt just out of reach – 7 stone heavier!
Yet there I was, living a version of that dream with the only people I’d ever want to live it with.
Maybe not the Louis Vuitton, Octoberfest, Hilton-discount version.
But MY version no less.
And honestly, I wouldn’t swap it – not for all the Louis Vuitton bags in the world.
Because while I was busy imagining their story, they knew nothing about mine.
They didn’t know how far I’d come.
They didn’t know how much I’d overcome.
They didn’t know how grateful I felt to be sitting there watching the rain fall over a country I’d always wanted to visit.
It’s funny really.
To them, I was probably just another tourist in a coffee shop that they haven’t ever thought about again.
To me, they became the inspiration for an entire blog post.
I still hope they made it to Oktoberfest though.
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Love as always!
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