A Tale of Two Cities, and the Man I Became in Between
There are moments in life that feel like closing a circle. A return to a beginning, not to relive it, but to understand its shape and see the lines it drew into your future. I had one of those moments recently, standing under the summer sun in Zurich, with two of my children, aged 16 and 21, by my side.
This wasn't just a holiday. It was a business trip, a pilgrimage, and a lesson all rolled into one. I was in town for one of my seminars, and I brought them along. I wanted them to see what their dad does for a living, not as an abstract concept discussed over dinner, but as a tangible reality.
They experienced it firsthand, handing the microphone around during the Q&A, helping with registration. Small tasks, perhaps, but it put them inside the machine. It made the work real.
But more than that, I wanted to show them where I began. Where the man they know as their father was forged. Long before they were born, long before the life we have now, my career took its first real, decisive steps on these very streets. It was a journey back to the genesis of my professional life, and in many ways, to the dawn of our family.
The Ghosts of Beginnings Past
During our stay, I made a point of taking them on a specific walk. We went to Konradstrasse, near the Hauptbahnhof. To the casual observer, it’s just another city street, lined with charming little restaurants and the hum of urban life. To me, it’s a time capsule. This street was my base of operations back in 1999. This is where I started my first proper job at PwC. This is where I cut my teeth in the world of international finance and corporate structuring, where I met Mike C. and so many others who shaped my early professional thinking.
Walking those pavements with my children, I was a ghost in my own past. I could almost see my younger self—full of ambition, slightly naive, striding with a purpose he was only just beginning to understand.
But this was more than a professional retrospective. It was deeply personal. My children’s mother and I lived here for three years. Our life as a young family started in the orbit of this city. I pointed out the parks we might have walked in, the kind of cafes we would have frequented. I spoke of the bliss of those early days, the uncomplicated happiness that comes with building a life together. It was a portrait of a time long before any marital crisis, decades before the eventual, painful break-up. It was important for them to see that foundation, to know that their story began in a place of hope and shared dreams.
A Tapestry Woven Across Borders
My connection to Switzerland, however, predates that Zurich chapter. Having been born and raised close to the border in Freiburg im Breisgau, Switzerland was one backdrop to my childhood. Trips to the Basel Zoo were a regular feature. We’d marvel at the ingenuity on display at the National Transport Museum in Lucerne. We’d walk through the ancient Roman ruins of Augusta Raurica, feeling the weight of history under our feet. Our family holidays to Italy always involved the grand theatre of crossing the Alps. My father’s company was based near Frick in Aargau, so that canton, too, became a familiar landscape.
Yet, strangely, Zurich itself remained a blank space in my youthful memories. I have no distinct recollection of visiting the city as a child. My first real engagement with it was as a departure point. During a brief spell living in Berlin before my Swiss career began, I flew from Zurich a few times. Those were the days when flying still felt like an event, a dream made real. I remember the roar of a Crossair turboprop taking me to Berlin Tempelhof, an airport that is now itself a relic of history. A plane ticket was a significant investment, a passport to another world.
Life is full of strange ironies. A few years later, I was living in Switzerland when Crossair’s parent company, the mighty Swissair, went bust in one of the most spectacular corporate implosions in modern history. The small, regional Crossair was then reborn from the ashes to become the new Swiss International Air Lines. I remember the chaos vividly. I had booked a family trip to Fátima in Portugal. The tickets were paid for, the bags were mentally packed. And then, overnight, the airline ceased to exist. We couldn’t go. That planned pilgrimage of faith was replaced by a pragmatic road trip to Salzburg. It was an early lesson in the fragility of even the most solid-seeming institutions.
Life by the Lake: A View from Freienbach
In 2000, I made the official move. We settled not in Zurich city proper, but in Freienbach, in the canton of Schwyz. There was a simple, compelling reason: it had, and still has, some of the lowest taxes in all of Switzerland. We rented a house there for three years, and it was from this base that I commuted, worked, and we built our young family.
But the lasting memory of Freienbach isn't about tax rates. It’s about the view. Every single morning, the first thing I saw when I got out of bed was Lake Zurich. It was never the same lake twice. It was a living canvas, a moody, magnificent entity that changed its character with the light. In the soft dawn, it could be a sheet of polished steel, calm and impenetrable. By midday, under a strong sun, it would shatter into a million dazzling diamonds. On overcast afternoons, it wore a cloak of deep, brooding turquoise. And in the evenings, it would capture the sunset, transforming into a pool of molten gold, orange, and fiery pink. Even now, decades later and a country away, I miss that view. It was a daily dose of sublimity, a reminder of the profound beauty that underpins Swiss life.
Beneath the Polished Surface
Of course, no place is a perfect monolith, and Switzerland’s pristine image has its interesting complexities. The very house we rented in Freienbach held a bizarre secret. When we first went to view the property, we noticed the previous tenants hastily dismantling a huge, elaborate installation in the basement. There were high-intensity lamps, ventilation systems, and a complex web of wiring. The entire house reeked of cannabis.
It turned out we were taking over from a crew of illegal weed growers. The smell was so pervasive, so deeply embedded in the walls, that we had to have the entire house professionally cleaned and redecorated before we could even move in. It was a stark reminder that for all its order and respectability, Switzerland has its own hidden currents.
This is part of the national character, in a way. The Swiss have a philosophy that can be described as "live and let live," or perhaps more accurately, a profound respect for civil freedoms and privacy. This was, at least back then, also evident in the fact that almost every village, including respectable Freienbach, seemed to have a brothel. You could always identify them by the single, discreet red light in a window. There was no moral panic, no public outcry. It was simply a fact of life, contained and regulated. This is the underbelly, the pragmatic, libertarian streak that coexists with the cuckoo clocks and chocolate.
The City That Time (Almost) Forgot
Returning now, walking the streets with my own children, I was struck by something remarkable. How little Zurich has changed. In an age where cities are in a constant state of flux, where high streets are homogenised and skylines redrawn every decade, Zurich feels preserved. The same shops, the same facades, the same solid, reassuring atmosphere. It’s both endearing and slightly scary. It speaks to a confidence, a sense of "if it isn't broken, don't fix it," that is quintessentially Swiss.
One thing has changed, however. In some places, particularly hotels and high-end retail, you now need to speak English. The staff are often from all over the world, and English has become the lingua franca, sometimes even over the local German. It's a sign of Zurich's global status, but a slight cultural shift nonetheless.
Of course, no discussion of Zurich is complete without mentioning the cost. Yes, it is expensive. A casual lunch can make your eyes water. But here is the crucial counterpoint: the quality is almost always outstanding. From a simple bratwurst at a street stand to a meal in a neighbourhood bistro, there is a baseline of excellence that is incredibly rare. The ingredients are superb, the preparation is meticulous. You pay a premium, but you receive premium quality in return. It’s a transaction, not an extortion.
A Sanctuary for Sound Money and Sovereignty
This principle of tangible value extends beyond food. I make it a habit to buy some precious metals in most countries I visit, partly as a tangible store of value, and partly to test the process and understand the local culture around wealth preservation. Zurich, unsurprisingly, excels.
I walked into a dealer and purchased some silver coins—Krugerrands and Britannias. The process was a revelation in its powerful simplicity and profound respect for the individual. It was a transaction between free adults, a concept becoming rarer by the day. The Value Added Tax on silver is a mere 8.1%, a stark contrast to the prohibitive rates that effectively penalise savers in other Western nations. And because my purchase was under the generous 15,000 CHF threshold, the entire transaction was completed with a handshake. No ID check, no invasive paperwork, no digital trail for the state to monitor. In that simple, clean exchange, you find the essence of the Swiss promise: privacy, security, and a tangible Plan B.
This is a philosophy that seems increasingly alien in the EU and elsewhere, where the state seeks ever-greater oversight into the private wealth of its citizens. Switzerland remains a bastion for those who believe that their assets are their own business.
The Swiss Magnet: Why the World Still Flocks to the Confederation
This brings me to the core of my work and the reason clients from all over the world attend my seminars. They see what I see. They see an island of stability in an ocean of chaos. But the attraction is more than a feeling; it is built on concrete, strategic advantages that are the focus of our deep-dive sessions.
People don't move to Switzerland just for the chocolate and mountains; they move for sovereignty. They come seeking a firewall against the political and economic instability they see brewing elsewhere. They are tired of punitive tax regimes that treat citizens as cash cows for bloated state bureaucracies. In Switzerland, they discover a system that is fundamentally different.
The federalist structure, with its three tiers of tax at the federal, cantonal, and municipal levels, fosters a fierce competition. Cantons and municipalities actively compete to attract residents and businesses with efficient services and appealing tax rates. This isn't a race to the bottom; it's a race to be the most competent.
For entrepreneurs, this means a stable, predictable, and pro-business environment to establish a company, whether it's an AG (corporation) or GmbH (LLC). For high-net-worth individuals, it offers unique solutions like lump-sum taxation (Besteuerung nach dem Aufwand), where you are taxed on your living expenses rather than your global income or assets—a powerful tool for those who are not gainfully employed in the country.
Beyond taxes, people move for freedom. Switzerland’s position outside the EU is no accident; it is a deliberate choice. It means freedom from the bloc's directives, its political experiments, and its regulatory overreach. It means a stable currency, the Swiss Franc, that is not entangled with the ECB. It means a legal system built on centuries of common sense and a deep respect for property rights. This is the bedrock of asset protection. Your wealth is not just a number on a screen subject to the whims of faraway politicians; it is secure.
And finally, people move for a quality of life that has become the global gold standard. They move for safety, for a country where children can still walk to school alone. They move for world-class healthcare and education systems. And they move for the promise that they can build a life, raise a family, and run a business on their own terms, treated as a respected citizen rather than a subject to be managed.
Full Circle
As our trip wound down, my children, nursing a slight sunburn from an optimistic paddle boat outing on the river, were buzzing. They enjoyed the city, the experience of the seminar, the glorious summer weather. And, of course, the shopping.
They both bought themselves a Swatch watch.
Seeing them with those iconic timepieces on their wrists was another one of those closing circles. Swatches were the cool, affordable Swiss icon when I was young. The fact that they are still here, still relevant, and still desired by a new generation tells you everything you need to know about Swiss longevity, quality, and the ability to endure.
I took them to Zurich to show them where I started. I think they left with a clear picture of what can be built from a foundation of hard work, strategic thinking, and choosing the right ground on which to build.
Ready to Write Your Own Swiss Story?
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Residency & Relocation: Finding the right canton and the most efficient path to making Switzerland your home.
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Wealth Preservation: Understanding the landscape of banking, precious metals, and long-term financial sovereignty.
