I went to the Gaia Musikfestival in Thun with a shocking amount of free time.

This is unusual for a music festival. Normally you are busy. Rehearsing. Stressing. Pretending to be busy while scrolling your phone with purpose.
Not here.

Here, I had time.
Glorious. Swiss. Uninterrupted time.

So did Casper Vos.

This was dangerous.

Two pianists. Partners at home. Minimal responsibilities. A picturesque town. This is how stories begin that end with someone saying, “We should not tell anyone about this.”

Naturally, we found Atelier.

Atelier is not a cocktail bar that wants attention. It does not wave menus. It does not lecture you about ice. It does not describe drinks using words like “journey” or “forest floor”.
It simply sits there, confident, like a bar that knows you will eventually give in and loose whatever dignity you have left.

Inside, bottles line the walls in a way that suggests expertise, mild chaos, and excellent life choices. The lighting makes everyone look like a better version of themselves. This is suspicious and should probably be regulated.

Then came Frank’s Ingwer.

Frank’s Ingwer is not subtle. It does not ease you in. It announces itself like a friendly slap. Ginger with opinions. Ginger with posture. Ginger that makes you say, “Oh. So that is how that is supposed to taste.” She introduces herself, “Oh HI! I am Ginger! You come here often??”.

Atelier, to its credit, does not interfere. They do not overthink it. They serve it like responsible adults who trust ingredients and their customers. A radical concept.

Evenings followed a clear structure.

Arrive.
Sit down.
Order something sensible.
Immediately order something less sensible.

Conversations drifted freely, mostly because neither of us had anything urgent to escape to. Music was discussed. Life was discussed. Absolutely nothing was discussed at length and with great enthusiasm.

This is the underrated luxury of festivals when you are not overbooked. You are not “on”. You are off. You exist. You laugh. You realise you are a human and not a scheduling problem.

Meanwhile, Thun continued being aggressively beautiful. Mountains. Silence. Viola players. As if the town itself was judging you gently but firmly.

By the end of the week, I had learned several things.
First. Good festivals are defined by what happens offstage.
Second. Free time is a gift and should be handled carefully.
Third. Frank’s Ingwer should be exported worldwide immediately.
Fourth. Pianists with nothing to do are extremely cheerful and mildly dangerous.

I came to Thun for music.
I stayed upright because Switzerland is efficient.
And I will return knowing exactly where to go when there is nothing to do again.