A New Life in Lisbon

Tommy had been living in Lisbon for three weeks when he finally admitted that he was exhausted. He had been working long hours, and he had been climbing the steep streets of the old town every day. He wasn’t used to the noisy trams, the hills or eating dinner at ten o’clock.

His new colleagues were friendly, and slowly he was getting used to the rhythm of the office. At first, he had found the long lunch breaks strange. Now he looked forward to them. “You’ll get used to everything,” Rebecca told him. “Even the trams.”

On Friday evening, he sat by the window and wrote to his sister. “By the time you read this,” he typed, “I will have finished my first month here. This time next week I’ll be flying to Boston, so I will be sleeping in my old room.” He smiled and deleted the last sentence. Boston was no longer the only place he called home.

Then he wrote about his plans. “By next June, I’ll have learnt enough Portuguese to follow a conversation. By this time next year, I’ll be giving presentations in the language, and I will have saved enough money for a flat with a balcony.”

He pressed send and closed the laptop. Outside, a tram rattled up the hill. For the first time in weeks, he had not been looking for the way back. He was simply listening, and the city sounded almost familiar.