Russian Switzerland: Where neutrality feels like a superpower
As a kid, I thought “neutrality” was a type of weapon—like a very polite missile. One that doesn’t fly anywhere, doesn’t explode, just lies back, stares at the Alps, and radiates quiet confidence: I could, but I won’t.
— Switzerland doesn’t go to war.
I asked:
— Not even with the Germans?
— Not even with the Germans.
And just like that, Switzerland was filed under “mythical creatures”—somewhere between Bigfoot and a competent city inspector.
The cows are accountants, and so are the trains
When I finally visited Switzerland, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The mountains stand like they were arranged by someone with an engineering degree and a touch of OCD. The lakes are still, like candy displays. Even the cows walk with the dignity of someone who just passed an interview for CFO.
The silence is real—dense, like a luxury blanket. I sneezed at a gas station and immediately apologized. To the houses. To the Alps. To some inner Swiss voice that suddenly awoke inside me.
Trains run on time
You glance at a Swiss watch—also perfectly on time—and the train is already exactly where it should be. Not early, not late. In Russia, trains are philosophers. In Italy, moody divas. In Switzerland, they’re accountants. Or possibly cows.
Clean streets, quiet voices, and the cult of sorting trash
I stayed in a small town where the streets were so clean, you feel the urge to wash your shoes before stepping out. Or maybe even your head. Trash sorting feels like a spiritual practice. Putting plastic in the wrong bin? Feels like confessing to espionage.
People speak quietly. Even the kids. Dogs bark like they’re paying by the decibel. If a Swiss person raises their voice, something serious has happened—someone crossed the road outside the zebra crossing. There’s still time to save the world, but barely.
Food is humble and clear
Fondue. Potatoes with cheese. Cheese with potatoes. Cheese with cheese. You start to suspect potatoes exist only as edible trays. As a child, I believed Swiss people drilled the holes into cheese after making it. Honestly, how else are they so perfect?
Where calm is a lifestyle and order is power
Swiss banks look more stable than most marriages. You feel like walking in and saying:
— Can you keep my anxiety for a while?
They probably would. With interest.
They say Switzerland was surrounded by enemies in wartime
Now I get it—no one dared attack. Imagine charging in, and a calm man looks up and says:
— Sorry, it’s lunchtime. Care to join us?
And suddenly there’s fondue, a weather chat, and it feels rude to start shooting.
If heaven exists, it probably looks like this
Not a party, but pure order. You wake up, know where your things are, where your job is, where the lake and the cows are. Nothing rubs, nothing screams. And even eternity would probably arrive… right on schedule.
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