In my mid-20s, I backpacked around the world as a Swiss citizen, flashing that red passport in all its neutral freedom. Born in San Francisco, I was fortunate enough to gain dual citizenship through my family bloodline. Despite my Cali-birthplace, I clung to the benefits of that bright booklet including flawless health care, tax benefits, retirement incentives and visa-free entry to 185 countries.
Did I mention I moved there? Yep, at 23 years of age, I left my job, home and family to find my roots and discover what I was missing besides chocolate and cheese. What I found was that Swiss life does, in fact, exist inside a postcard, and that perfection — ironically to a fault — is possible for one nation to achieve.
In my four years of Swiss residency, I also found that many of my closest friends were rather perplexed that I — fresh from Los Angeles — had a Swiss passport, while they were still living as foreigners in their birth country.
