If you moved to Switzerland expecting winter to look like a Swiss tourism postcard — crisp blue skies, snow-dusted chalets, sunlit ski slopes — allow me to introduce you to the reality of December through February in the Swiss Mittelland: Hochnebel.

Hochnebel means "high fog". It is a thick grey layer that sits, often for weeks at a time, over Zurich, Bern, Basel and the whole Swiss plateau, trapping the cities in an almost tangible greyness. You can live 20 minutes from sunshine — up the Uetliberg, up the Gurten, up the Monte Brè — but if you stay in the city, you can go 15 days without seeing direct sunlight. I'm not exaggerating. I've lived through those 15 days. Many winters.

This essay is for the expats in Zurich, Bern, Basel, Lucerne, and Winterthur who come to me in late November sounding confused. "Jabu, I didn't expect this. Nobody warned me about the fog."

The specific cocktail of Swiss winter

Several things come together between roughly mid-November and mid-February to produce the particular Swiss version of winter blues.

One: The Hochnebel itself. The Mittelland is a basin between the Jura and the Alps. Cold air pools at low altitude while warmer air sits above, creating a multi-week inversion. You get grey, flat, sunless light. Some years the fog breaks after a week; some years it doesn't break at all in January. If you've lived in London or Berlin you're used to grey winters, but Swiss Hochnebel has a peculiar stillness that can sit on the chest.

Two: The sunrise/sunset math. Zurich gets about 8 hours 20 minutes of daylight at the winter solstice — similar to London, a bit longer than Stockholm. But because of the fog, "daylight" is often indistinguishable from dusk. You leave for work in grey, you come home in grey, and the "day" was grey in the middle.

Three: The cultural rhythm. Swiss December is intensely family-oriented. Advent, Samichlaus (6 December), Christmas markets, company Weihnachtsessen, then the full shutdown between Christmas and New Year when offices are dark and cities quiet. For expats without family nearby, this is both lovely (if you're invited into a Swiss home) and crushing (if you're not). The Swiss expression "Weihnachtsdepression" is a real and named phenomenon.

Four: The January/February wall. After the holidays, Swiss life resumes — except the fog is still there, the daylight hasn't lengthened meaningfully, and nobody is making small talk in the tram anymore because everybody is quietly tired. This is the hardest stretch for most expats. I get more messages in late January than in any other month.

What SAD actually is (and isn't)

Seasonal Affective Disorder is a real clinical condition — a subtype of depression with seasonal onset, typically autumn/winter in the northern hemisphere. It responds well to bright-light therapy, behavioural adjustments, and in some cases antidepressants. If you have clinical SAD, Swiss winters are genuinely a medical risk factor, and you should be talking to a doctor, not just to me.

But most of what I hear is sub-clinical winter weight. Not SAD. Not depression. Just: flat, tired, grey, isolated, homesick for the specific shape of light from the country you left. That is a normal human response to Swiss winter, especially for expats from sunnier places.

11 small things that actually help

From years of listening to expats in Swiss winter, here is the list that comes up most. None of these are magic. All of them are doable.

  1. Get above the fog, every weekend possible. The fog usually ends at around 800-1200 metres. Uetliberg (Zurich), Gurten (Bern), Bantiger (Bern), Monte Brè (Lugano), Pfänder (from St. Gallen), Rigi (Lucerne), Chasseral (Neuchâtel). A 30-minute tram or train and you are above the grey, in sunshine. Do this ruthlessly. It changes the week.
  2. Buy a bright-light therapy lamp. 10,000 lux, 20-30 minutes every morning while you drink coffee. Around CHF 80-150 at Migros, Galaxus, or online. The research on this is strong. If you only do one thing on this list, do this.
  3. Don't skip Swiss Christmas markets, even alone. Yes, they're designed for families. Go anyway. Mulled wine, raclette, music, lights. A Zurich Christkindlimarkt, a Basel Münsterplatz market, a Montreux lakefront market — you will not feel "less alone" from going, but you will feel held by something, and it beats an empty flat.
  4. Book weekends in advance for the whole winter. Not optional. An empty Swiss January weekend is a silence you cannot improvise out of. By mid-November, plan: weekend 1 skiing, weekend 2 friend visits, weekend 3 thermal baths in Vals or Leukerbad, weekend 4 museum day in Basel, weekend 5 hike above the fog, weekend 6 booked with someone, anyone.
  5. Thermal baths. Switzerland has extraordinary thermal spas — Vals, Leukerbad, Bad Ragaz, Baden, Yverdon, Vals again because it deserves repeating. Four hours in 36°C water under a grey sky changes brain chemistry. Budget CHF 40-80 a visit. Do it once a month.
  6. Invite someone for fondue. Not a restaurant — your apartment. Even if you think your apartment is small. Even if you think you're not a "host". One mid-week fondue with one colleague/neighbour/acquaintance-you-want-to-upgrade every two weeks. The act of hosting is one of the few things that cuts through winter isolation.
  7. Stop doom-scrolling warm-country photos on Instagram. You will not move to Bali in February, and the fomo is a tax. Mute the accounts until April.
  8. Get Vitamin D tested. Swiss residents are often deficient by February. Your GP can test, and supplementation is cheap and over-the-counter at Swiss pharmacies.
  9. Move, specifically in the morning. A 20-minute walk by the Limmat, the Aare, the Rhein, the Lac Léman, or any local park, ideally before 10am, is more effective than an evening gym session for winter mood. Ignore the weather. The Swiss have a saying: "Es gibt kein schlechtes Wetter, nur schlechte Kleidung." — there is no bad weather, only bad clothing. They're right.
  10. Protect a social anchor every week. A choir, a yoga class, a running club, a book group, a language partner. One thing that exists in your calendar regardless of weather or mood. You don't have to love it. You have to show up.
  11. Talk to someone about how it actually feels. Not your spouse (they're in it too). Not your parents (they'll worry). Not your boss (please). Find a neutral voice. An old friend in a different time zone, a therapist if it's clinical, a paid listener like me if it's sub-clinical and you just want to name it out loud once a week.

When to get actual help

If you are:

  • Sleeping much more or much less than usual for more than two weeks
  • Not enjoying things you normally enjoy
  • Having thoughts of self-harm
  • Withdrawing from everyone
  • Drinking noticeably more than usual

This is not ordinary winter weight. Call your GP, or call 143, or find an English-speaking therapist through the FSP directory. Swiss winter can tip sub-clinical greyness into clinical depression, and you don't need to wait for spring to treat it.

And the small thing I can offer

CHF 20 for 30 minutes on a grey Sunday afternoon when the fog has been sitting over Zurich for six days and you haven't had a real conversation since Wednesday. WhatsApp. Twint afterwards. No subscription, no "course", no treatment plan. Just an English-speaking voice, for half an hour, because it's February and you deserve to be heard before March comes.

If you're in a crisis right now

Please call 143 (Die Dargebotene Hand / La Main Tendue / Telefono Amico — free, 24/7, Switzerland) or, if under 25, 147 (Pro Juventute). For medical emergencies, call 144. Empathetic listening is a complement to those services, not a replacement.