Two people lift a glass. They pause. They look each other in the eye.
Cheers!
Two people lift a glass. They pause. They look each other in the eye. - Across cultures, languages and time zones, there is one moment that looks almost exactly the same everywhere in the world. No matter where you go, it somehow still feels like home.
Two people lift a glass. They pause. They look each other in the eye.
(We all know how important that part is for a millennial South African: “eyes, eyes”.)
And they say some version of the same word. Different languages, the same meaning. After all, connection and kindness are universal.
Cheers in English.
Santé (san-tay) in French, meaning “health.”
Salud (sa-lood) in Spanish, also meaning “health.”
Saúde (sa-oo-deh) in Portuguese, again meaning “health”
Prost (prohst) in German, a classic toast shared across beer halls and dinner tables.
Skål (skoal) in Scandinavia, an old word linked to drinking bowls passed between friends.
Then, further east and south, the same instinct appears again.
L’chaim (le-chai-im) in Hebrew, meaning “to life.”
Yamas (ya-mas) in Greek, meaning “to our health.”
Sahtein (sa-htein) in Lebanon and across the Arabic-speaking world, meaning “double health.”
Different languages. Different alphabets. Different histories.
The same gesture. Mutual respect.
- Raise a glass.
- Lock eyes.
- Acknowledge the moment.
For something so simple, it carries surprising weight. Because the cheers moment is not just a celebration. It is punctuation.
We say cheers when life expands.
A promotion.
A new business.
A wedding.
A new baby.
We say cheers when life softens.
A reunion with old friends.
A long overdue catch-up.
The end of a hard week.
And sometimes we say cheers when life hurts.
A goodbye.
A memory.
A life well lived.
There are cheers moments that are loud and joyful, and others that are quiet and reflective.
But they all ask for the same thing. Presence.
For a brief second, everyone stops. Phones go down. Conversations pause. People look up and actually see each other.
You cannot really say cheers while distracted.
It forces a moment of connection.
That is why the ritual matters more than the drink.
Historically, alcohol simply became the liquid that accompanied the moment. But the moment itself never belonged to alcohol. It belonged to people.
The cheers moment existed long before any category of drink.
It existed because humans needed a way to acknowledge something meaningful together.
At hopnøsis, that idea sat quietly in the background while we were building the drink.
We were not interested in replacing rituals. Rituals are too important to tamper with.
We were interested in honouring them.
Keeping the cold can.
Keeping the lift of carbonation.
Keeping the complexity of hops.
Keeping the moment where people pause and connect.
Just without the baggage that sometimes comes with it.
Because modern life is complicated. Some days call for celebration. Some days call for clarity. Most days, you want both. Life is not linear, and often those things exist in the very same moment. You get to write the rules.
So we did not try to reinvent the cheers moment.
We simply built a drink that fits into it. One that feels adult.
“A drink that behaves, even if you don’t.”
Layered.
Intentional.
A drink that lets you stay present in the moment you are raising your glass to.
Because the ritual does not belong to alcohol.
It belongs to connection.
To joy.
To memory.
To grief.
To gratitude.
To the good moments, the difficult moments, and everything in between.
And every now and then, when two people lift a glass and meet each other's eyes, the world pauses for a second.
That is the cheers moment.
Iconic. Universal. Completely without bias.
And it never needed anything more than that.
Cheers,
Kel.
