Germany on the Ropes
Germany on the Ropes
without the intervention of, say, a disgruntled artist, things look grim
A big part of the problem is that you can’t even make a joke like I did in the subtitle and be sure you’re not breaking some speech law. The Germans have effectively been under US censorship and mind control ever since the war, and they’re afraid and/or unwilling to even ask the all-important question, “Who destroyed the Nordstream Pipeline?”, let alone question the approved, orthodox details of the Holocaust. (It doesn’t help that it’s illegal to do the latter.)
Look, I didn’t really feel compelled to write another, European country X is going to hell in a handbasket and here’s the evidence type post on Germany. I was there on an interview tour to discuss other subjects, and honestly we had a great time in Germany. Bernd and Heike and Bernd’s family in the next town were hugely hospitable, and we ran into friendly folks everywhere and had a great time. The small towns, the country roads, the bike paths, Heidelberg, Bamberg, Bonn, the towns along the middle Rhine, the bakeries- all wonderful! Go see it if you get a chance (better sooner than later). It wasn’t until the incident at the very end of the trip that made me say to myself, not Man, Germany is on the skids!, but Man, Germany is gonna be gone very soon!
It boils down to this: whatever indicators you see in the economy, the crime rate, the price of electricity and gas and other hindrances to industrial output (and none of these indicators look good), you simply can’t replace the German population and simultaneously maintain the German nation. At the current rate, whatever you call ‘Germany’ will soon not be German. (and I predict that saying this too might break some near-future speech law).
Just judging by the number of newcomers to the nation as an on-location observer, immigration is in hyper-overdrive. The incident I mentioned was our involvement in a crash. I put it in those words rather than say “I got in a crash,” because the little Fiat rental car I was driving wasn’t even moving.
We’d stopped in the middle of the narrow one-way street, blocked by a medium-sized delivery truck, also stopped in the street. The driver decided spur of the moment to back up, fast, and look for a parking spot. Turns out he had no rear camera, no beeping sound to indicate backing up to warn us, and he couldn’t see us with his small mirrors which weren’t much help seeing around his cargo box.
I had literally about two seconds between the time the truck began coming toward us in reverse and the moment of impact. I think I was able to say two quick words, “What the…?” WHAM.
I’ll have more to say about this in the addendum; for now I just want to point out that…
the three witnesses to the crash, coming out of a local shop, were Turks. (I said to them, in German, “Did you see that!?” They nodded in a way that said, “Yeah, crazy, huh.” and continued on their way.)
The driver of the delivery truck was Polish.
The folks just up the sidewalk a few meters, sitting outside the cafe, carrying shopping bags and waiting for a ride or a bus, looked eastern European of a swarthier variety (Romanian, Albanian, Kosovorian?).
The guy at the rental-car desk in Bamberg whom I ask for help from had a Bulgarian/Macedonian surname.
The desk help back in Darmstadt were Turks, I assume.
The regional manager in the Darmstadt zone was Finnish or Estonian or something like that.
Where are the Germans, FCOL?!
Just the day before, in Cologne, I had hinted at the extreme and obvious demographic change in Germany to a young woman waiting along with us for the train to Bonn.
Six typical modern ‘Germans’ in front of the Cologne Cathedral and main train station:
The Cologne-Bonn train was delayed and the platform packed with people waiting. Pretty, blonde Carina took it all in stride and said this was all very normal these days. “There’s always delays. In fact it’s more often the train is delayed than on time.”
D- But why don’t they post the delay on the electronic sign-board up there, so we know how late it’s going to be?
C- Oh they don’t bother.
D- So I just have to wait here and assume it might come in one minute or thirty?
C- Sure, and it might take longer than that. And they’ll suddenly change which platform it arrives on; that happens all the time.
D- And how do I know that’s happening? They at least announce that, right?
C- Sometimes, but sometimes no. I guess you just follow everyone else.
D- But how do they know?
C- Well, the nice thing is you can get this app which tells you about delays and changes. She held up her iphone. I can see here that our train is delayed but they haven’t changed the track. You just have to make sure you don’t get on a different train on this same track, leaving in between but going to a different destination.
D- This sounds like the kind of thing that led to that song about the Deutsche Bahn (German Rail parody song).
Carina let out an ughh and nodded.
D- You know that song?
C- Of course, everyone does. And it’s all true. The train system is horrible.
D- You know, I first came to Germany in the 80s, and from what I remember, since back then up until, I don’t know, the early 2000s, you could set your clock to the German trains. Austrian trains, Swiss trains, German trains- all perfectly on time.
C- Really? Well it certainly isn’t like that now.
She shook her head and looking out at the train on the next platform, said, “I don’t know why it’s gotten like this. Why it’s so bad.”
D- I have an idea why.
C- Why?
I darted my eyes left and right to see if the Thought Gestapo were in range, and said, “You have a different country today.”
C- What do you mean?
D- It’s not the same people it was back in the 80s. It’s…well, not as German as it used to be.
Carina’s expression revealed a bit of the requisite surprise and ever-so-slight disapproval of such an observation that good, college-educated coeds are supposed to feel toward crusty race realists like myself. But she was nice and seemed truly curious about my opinion and said, “Really? You think it’s that?”
D- Well, yes. I live in Japan and the trains are super on-time. You could say that’s because you have Japanese running the train system. I’ve been to Mexico and the trains are not so on-time. There you have Mexicans running the train system. And so on around the world. Germans are among the trains-run-on-time type people but looking around it seems the percentage of Germans here is fewer and fewer every year here.
C- Yeah, but I was in Mexico and the trains I took seemed to be pretty on time.
D- Where did you ride a train?
C- Well, it was actually the underground, in Mexico city.
D- That’s a bit different, though. Those just run and run, not necessarily on a schedule.
C- Yeah, but anyway. I don’t think it’s the reason you say it is. I think it’s because they privatized the train system here.
I understand the modern privatize everything tendency that Davos seems to favor, turning state control of services like rail, power and water over to the corporations and the dangers therein, but it didn’t explain the collapse of German Rail punctuality. Japan privatized much of their rail system, but the trains still run on time.
The cars were packed when the train came rolling in. Kenny entered the car from another door, trying to find a little elbow room, and beautiful Carina and I squeezed in together at the middle door. I found out she was a surfer and although she had just started university, like me had spent time at the great, Pacific surfing beaches of Mexico and Costa Rica. Germans and their travels! Surfers speak another language and you can imagine how quickly the trip to Bonn went. When the train arrived, I had six surf-stud grandkids via Kenny and Carina in my mind and I wished that Kenny was nearby to ask Carina her contact info or something, but I imagined this little blonde bombshell had plenty of admirers in Germany and around the surfing world and I sensed this was one of those “She’s out of your league, Pal” situations. I wasn’t going to do it for him. Bye Carina. C’est la vie.
The ladies at the counter in Bonn, when they decided to come off break, were a bit less friendly. Only at the beginning, though. After I buttered them up with some kindness and basic tourist-German, they softened and were friendly. I get the impression the public feeling about Deutsche Bahn has them on the defensive, but they are mostly decent sorts.
I mentioned to Carina that all the train workers used to have the snazzy black and red uniforms with DB conductor caps.
“Oh, they still have those!” said Karina, pointing to a sharp-dressed DB employee helping some travelers.
In all fairness, though, except for the Cologne to Bonn hiccup, we took a bunch of trains in Germany and had good success in getting from point to point on time. From Bonn to Mainz (and points all over Rheinland-Pfalz) you can get a day pass and get on and off and see plenty on the cheap, especially with a companion. There are nice views along the Rhine as you go.
We stopped in Koblenz- original Latin name Confluentes, meaning confluence. Here’s a church we saw downtown:
As an example of how ubiquitous are beautiful churches here in Germany and elsewhere in Europe, those last two beauties don’t even get an English Wikipedia page.
Kenny and I walked out to the Deutsches Eck (German corner), where the Mosel meets the Rhine. The confluence of the rivers symbolizes unification. The monument of William I, first German Emperor, was erected in 1897 in appreciation of his role in the unification of Germany.
So, as you can see from my Substack posts, a trip to Europe is Bittersweet. There is so much charm and beauty all around you, but if you are a noticer, you can’t help saying to yourselves, Where are the Germans? Where are the Austrians? Where are the Brits?
Photo of Deutsches Eck in Koblenz by Rob Hall on Unsplash. Thanks, Rob!
Ahh, I promised to say more about the car accident…
Speaking of Where are the Germans, I’ll tell you where I saw a bunch of legacy Germans: on the Autobahn. They couldn’t stop staring at my smashed Fiat. Germans don’t like damage and disorder, so they make parody songs about their modern rail system, and they gesticulate at forlorn foreigners in smashed Fiats.
It's unfortunate about your experience with the car and your disappointment with the culture, but at least the architecture is lovely. BTW, speaking of lovely, where are the photos of the Blonde Bombshell, Carina?