I recently hosted my nephew for a few days in Grandvaux, Switzerland. Twenty-one, and an exceptionally talented drummer, he is currently based in Dublin, playing with the improv-noise trio, Plum Texes. But he is moving to Berlin when he graduates from Trinity. Why? The music scene, a community of like-minded artists, and a substantially lower cost of living, which will allow him more time for his art, further enabled by a well-integrated city that values what he’s doing. It was like listening to myself, 35 years ago. "How’d you end up in Switzerland, anyway?" he asked. By accident. I left Ireland in 1990, as soon as I had a passport, driven by a strong sense that life was elsewhere. I found my tribe in the UK, then a Morrison Visa took me to San Francisco, and 13 years of making records and touring. Then She came along, as She tends to do, and a move to Cape Town followed. “How do you feel about moving to Switzerland?” she asked, two years later, as her career took off. Immediate thoughts: Alps, cowbells, chocolate, cheese, the cuckoo clock quote from The Third Man. Ten years ago we settled in Lausanne, and were promptly ignored. It took months to understand what was going on: it was them, not us. Colourful friendly Cape Town this was not. The Swiss are generally private, cautious and reserved. Confusingly, this is combined with a progressive laissez faire attitude: they don’t care how you live your life, and, consequently, prefer you not to interfere with theirs. If you make Swiss friends – and we did, eventually – it will be several months, maybe even years, before they invite you to their apartment. Once inside, you’ll most likely be met by the old reliables: fondue, or its actional opposite, raclette. Yes, the chocolate is divine, and you can eat it ‘til you burst, but that would not be Swiss, where restraint in all matters is to be observed. Importantly for us, they are dog-friendly. Mutts are welcomed everywhere, including restaurants. However, a booklet of rules must be followed here. Please forgive the cliche – there’s nothing like a quiet Dublin pub on a rainy weekday afternoon with a good novel, the radio murmuring in the cornerOn arrival, our sleepy little street dogs Barnacle and Grunt were dismayed to learn they’d been enrolled in mandatory dog training classes to learn some Swiss manners... or any manners at all, in the case of Barnacle. They both received D grades, but a pass is a pass, and they’re free to live out their years in the Lavaux vineyards. Is it expensive here? Sure, comparatively. But salaries here are also far higher, between 50 and 100 per cent more than Ireland. And, since Covid, I’ve noticed prices on the island have almost drawn level. When I take my parents out for dinner near their house, I await the increased bill with a mixture of anxiety and bewilderment. When a dinner out seems to cost roughly the same as in Switzerland, how do the Irish afford it?[ We moved from Ireland to Switzerland and set up a luxury dog hotel. Business is boomingOpens in new window ]Unique to Switzerland are the many bills from mysterious government entities, all clamouring to be paid immediately, lest they be sent for collection to the dreaded office des poursuites, a somewhat Kafka-esque and seemingly inexpungable record of debt defaults that will follow you to the grave. The threat of receiving a poursuite is ever present, feared, and much discussed. Otherwise, daily life is unimpeded: excellent healthcare with no waiting lists, safe streets, lowish taxes, clean and spacious public transport, and a general sense that the government is functioning effectively. The famous trains hum through the mountains: quiet, clean and efficient, like something from a toy set. The landscape, as we all know, is strikingly beautiful. We are lucky to have the Matterhorn visible from our living room, a picture which changes with the weather. Its distinctive flanks and crooked tip might be silhouetted against grey clouds one day, a blinding snow white before a cerulean blue sky the next. I stare at it frequently – a daily luxury. Do I miss Ireland? No. Yet – and please forgive the cliche – there’s nothing like a quiet Dublin pub on a rainy weekday afternoon with a good novel, the radio murmuring in the corner. The nostalgic contentment in these moments is indescribable. But that’s all it is: nostalgia. There is no deeper longing. The itch soon returns, and I’m ready to leave again, irritated by the same old things: a waffling Minister, the Siberian bleakness of Connolly’s Platform 7.But back to the nephew’s objections. The Irish housing crisis is foremost these days, with even the most basic digs out of reach for working artists. Worse, the Government seems utterly apathetic on the issue. It is frustrating to realise that however much Ireland changes, it is perpetually unable to retain its energetic young talent: 1990, 2026, 2061... plus ça change, plus c’est le même chose. Switzerland and elsewhere are waiting. Conor Jonathan Devlin grew up in Dublin and has lived in Switzerland for 15 years. He records and performs as one half of the ambient duo, The Lizard Point. He is a writer represented by Aevitas Creative; his first novel is out on submission. Are you Irish and living in another country? Would you like to share your experience in writing or by interview? You can use the form below, or email abroad@irishtimes.com. Irish Times Abroad submission guidelines here. Follow us on Instagram to keep up with the latestSign up to The Irish Times Abroad newsletter for Irish-connected people around the world.