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About Winterthur

So, I’m mixin’ this bad boy one night, and this dude—total loudmouth—goes, “What’s THAT?!” Like I’m servin’ him swamp water. Pissed me off, man! I’m like, “Chill, it’s escort, ya caveman!” It’s smooth, sneaky strong—like No-Face creepin’ up, offerin’ gold but knockin’ ya flat. Ain’t no basic bitch drink, nah. Little known fact: back in the ‘30s, some swanky London bar whipped it up for high rollers. Prolly escorts—the people kind—sippin’ it too, winkin’ at rich fools.

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This place is disgusting. Prostitutes outside the hotel, the hotel is surrounded by seedy men in cars that try to talk to you.

So lemme spill some tea – I’ve been shuttlin’ around this wonderland for years. Picture walkin’ down Höheweg – yes, that famous street right between the throbbin’ hearts of the town – lined with cafés that give off total cozy vibes. I always hit up a tiny spot on Jungfraustrasse for my morning espresso, which never fails to get me in the groove. Like, damn, sometimes that little café’s ambiance makes me go "Moolaadé!", like fightin’ back against all the mundane whatnots!

That viral ‘Seattle serial killer’ video about Capitol Hill’s Interlaken Park is full of beans