It’s flu season. And Covid is also still doing the rounds. At this point, I’m beginning to suspect we’re not getting rid of it anytime soon. Walking around Japan at this time of year, it can sometimes feel as if the pandemic never really left. Masks everywhere. On trains. In shops. On the street. Sometimes even outdoors – alone, in wide‑open spaces. Or worn by drivers sitting solo in their car, presumably protecting themselves from… themselves. Shop and restaurant staff are m

In 2026, I will have lived in Japan for 30 years. Thirty years. Long enough to forget that Sundays once meant closed shops, but still short enough to be asked, every now and then, when 'I’m going back home.' What I only realised recently is that this urge to leave Switzerland – to look over the mountains and think maybe somewhere else would be nice  – is not a modern phenomenon at all. It’s about 2,000 years old. What I’m referring to is one of the earliest mass emigrations

🚗 Driving Culture Switzerland treats speed limits as sacred laws, written in metaphorical stone and enforced by hidden speed cameras lurking like highly trained snipers. Step even slightly over the limit, and you've instantly won yourself a surprise photo souvenir courtesy of Swiss law enforcement. It's efficient, relentless, and guarantees that every Swiss driver develops a built-in speedometer through sheer fear alone. In contrast, Japan's speed limits, though technically

On December 10, Switzerland’s parliament elected Economics Minister Guy Parmelin as president for 2026. If your immediate reaction to this news was a polite nod followed by 'Wait, Switzerland has a president?' . Congratulations, you are responding correctly. Because Switzerland’s presidency is one of the most Swiss things imaginable. It exists, it functions perfectly, and it makes absolutely no fuss about itself. In most countries, becoming president comes with perks. Palaces

If there is one thing Japanese people know about Switzerland, it is this: Mountains. Alps. Snow. Yodelling, possibly while skiing downhill. As soon as they find out I’m Swiss, the conversation inevitably drifts upwards. Literally. 'You must have grown up surrounded by mountains.' 'You probably went hiking every weekend.' I usually nod politely, because explaining reality takes longer than smiling. The truth is this: yes, Switzerland has the Alps. They’re magnificent. World-cl

After living roughly half my life in Switzerland and half in Japan, I’ve learned one crucial thing about New Year celebrations: Switzerland and Japan are celebrating the same holiday  – just facing in completely opposite directions. In Switzerland, New Year’s Eve is the main event, with a long meal (often meat fondue, which has become somewhat of a tradition), good wine, and fireworks. New Year’s Day exists mainly for recovery and regret. In Japan, New Year’s Eve is a polite

Growing up in Switzerland, bread wasn’t just food. It was infrastructure. Bread had a starring role at breakfast, a reliable supporting role at lunch and dinner, and a quiet cameo appearance whenever someone felt a bit peckish. With roughly 200 officially recognised types of bread, there was enough variety to keep life interesting, balanced, and pleasantly crumb-filled. One thing united all of them: it had to be fresh. This wasn’t difficult. Bakeries were everywhere, often op

Japanese people usually assume that because I speak Japanese – more or less fluently (and sometimes noticeably less than more) – I must also be able to read it. After all, there are "only" 2,135 daily-use kanji characters. Out of roughly 50,000 in total. So surely, after 29 years in Japan, I should have picked them up by now. Plenty of time, right? One per week and I’d have finished the lot before my hairline started its slow, steady retreat. The harsh reality, however, is th

I’m writing this from Nagano – roughly 230 km away from Tokyo – where we are spending our Christmas and New Year's Holidays. When people hear Nagano , their brains immediately start projecting skiing montages: powder snow, mountain peaks, and some heroic skier flying through the air in glorious slow motion. Understandable, since Nagano Prefecture is often referred to as the "Roof of Japan", surrounded by enough mountains to make a Swiss person feel strangely… at home. But h

The KFC near our house has finally re-opened after months of refurbishment. I haven’t stepped inside yet, but peeking through the door I spotted the shiny new self-ordering machines, which are on the rise wherever you look. Because nothing says ‘holiday cheer’ quite like tapping a screen to beg for fried chicken while a robot silently judges your choices. But with staff shortages and rising cost, it’s the world we live in. You want chicken? You better learn to negotiate with

Every December, my inner Swiss wakes up and begins reminiscing about a very specific childhood ritual: the annual hunt for the perfect Christmas tree. We would head to the supermarket or the village square, where hundreds of trees were lined up like contestants in a beauty pageant. Tall, short, skinny, round, slightly wonky – all waiting to be chosen as someone's living-room centrepiece. And if you were feeling extra rustic, you would venture out to a proper Christmas tree fa

No matter how long we live abroad, how well we master the language, or how convincingly we nod at jokes we don’t quite understand, our stomachs eventually betray us. Assimilation may work on the outside, but deep inside, the gut is waving a little national flag and shouting, “Feed me what I grew up with!” Take my Japanese wife. Though our daily meals are mostly Western, she is occasionally seized by an undeniable, primal urge for pickled plums or hot miso soup. And of course,

It’s that magical time of year again – the air is crisp, the leaves are turning gold, and my inner Swiss is screaming for those Swiss delights that remind me of my childhood. Yes, winter is here, and with it comes the irresistible craving for raclette and fondue, those glorious dairy-based dishes that warm both the belly and the soul. So off I trotted to our favourite upscale supermarket, visions of bubbling cheese and crusty bread dancing in my head. This place had always be

There are moments in life when you realise just how differently countries operate. Take car licence plates, for instance. Here are some facts about Swiss number plates that may surprise you. 🏷️ 1. Licence Plates for Life – Like Marriage, But More Binding In most countries, plates belong to the car. Easy. Logical. Efficient. Predictable. Switzerland looked at that idea and said: “Nein. Too easy.” In Switzerland, your plates belong to you. Forever. You don't just register a ve

Halloween is firmly behind us, and the ghostly costumes and plastic pumpkins are packed away. And now – in countries like Switzerland and Japan, where Thanksgiving doesn't exist to provide a buffer – nothing stands between us and the overwhelming, glittery dominance of Christmas. Well, almost  nothing. First, we must navigate that seasonal no-man’s-land where society collectively debates: Is it socially acceptable to play Mariah Carey already? My answer: Yes. Japan's answer:

Last week, my wife and I went to see Back to the Future  in concert – 40 years after its premiere. Forty years! Sometimes I do feel old. As the orchestra launched into that epic opening theme and the DeLorean thundered to life, I felt chills – partly from nostalgia, partly from the dawning realisation that humanity has somehow managed to invent AI that writes poetry, but not a single functioning time machine. And frankly, some days, I'd love to travel back – ideally to an era

Let’s set the scene. It’s the third day of a long weekend – that blissful stage where you’ve lost all sense of time and start to believe you might never have to work again. My wife and I had just purchased a shiny new washing machine at our local tech wonderland, also known as the electronics store – where reason goes in with you, but somehow never makes it back out. All that was left was to pay. Simple, right? A quick beep of the credit card, and we’d be home to enjoy the t

One of the things I’ve always loved about Japan – apart from the polite people, super-efficient trains, and vending machines that sell everything short of life insurance – are the gigantic  electronics stores. These are not just shops. They are cathedrals of consumer technology, temples where you can lose yourself for hours among the latest gadgets, futuristic household appliances, and mysterious contraptions you didn’t even know existed but suddenly can’t live without. The u

Last month, I once again did my civic duty (or privilege, as I prefer to view it) as a Swiss citizen: I voted in a national referendum. Other countries argue over national elections every few years and then leave it to the lawmakers to make the actual decisions. But not so in Switzerland, where democracy is served four times a year, fondue-style, and every citizen is invited to dip their bread into the bubbling pot of policy. On the electoral menu this time: The introduction

Living in Japan as a Western foreigner can be rather interesting. People spot you, freeze, and then quietly decide not to engage unless absolutely necessary. It's entertaining, frustrating, and occasionally useful, depending on how much social interaction you're trying to avoid that day. No matter how long I've lived here, my face will always be a dead giveaway that I'm not from around here. And with that comes a whole bouquet of assumptions – mostly about my ability to speak