My Affair with aVery Un-Swiss Kind of Warmth

There’s something quietly scandalous about admitting you’ve taken on a second job. Not because it’s shameful, but because it ruins the illusion that your life runs exclusively on dry shampoo, ambition, and perfectly timed espresso martinis. And yet… here we are.

I now spend a few of my evenings and mornings in a small bar-café called Le Bouffon, and instead of feeling like I’ve signed up for exhaustion with a side of burnout, I’ve somehow wandered into one of the most comforting corners of Horgen.

Le Bouffon is effortlessly charming, not in a try-hard, “look-at-my-exposed-brick-wall” way, but in the kind that feels lived in. It already has inside jokes. It’s cozy, warm, a little eclectic, and full of tiny details that quietly whisper: someone here actually cares. From responsibly sourced coffee beans to organic tea leaves lovingly imported from Africa, the quality is undeniable, yet refreshingly free of the Zürich-brand superiority complex. You know the type: places so chic they make you feel like you should apologise for being there.

Here? You breathe freely. You sit comfortably. You talk to strangers who stop feeling like strangers halfway through their second sip.

And then there’s Salem.

The owner, the energy, the reason the place feels more like a gathering spot than a business. Always smiling, always ready with a joke, always making sure you feel seen, not just as staff, but as a human being. In a country where warmth sometimes feels like a limited edition feature, people like Salem stand out in the best way. Genuine. Open. Disarmingly kind.

It’s impossible not to feel at ease around him, and even easier to appreciate being part of his team. Because suddenly, work doesn’t feel transactional; it feels communal. Familiar. Almost... comforting.

Maybe it’s the rhythm of Horgen, just far enough from Zürich’s polished frenzy while still catching its cultural pulse. Or maybe it’s simply the magic of spaces that refuse to be cold in a world that occasionally forgets how to soften.

Either way, Le Bouffon has become more than just where I pour coffee and wipe counters. It’s a reminder that warmth exists in unexpected routines. That connection can be found between cups and conversations. And that sometimes, the real luxury isn’t exclusivity or perfection, it’s feeling welcome.

So yes, I now have a second job.
And no, it doesn’t feel like a burden.

It feels like a soft rebellion against everything sterile, rushed and emotionally distant.

And honestly? I’ll take that over an overpriced, pretentious foam art any day. ☕✨