Breaking out of their bubbles, just for one day
Iwrote recently about a disgruntled German commuter knitting a “rail delay scarf ” whose efforts went viral online. I have to admit that, taking the pristine new fast train between Munich and Berlin this week, there was no sign of any problems.
The opposite: it was all breathtakingly precise. The carriages line up exactly, with signposted sections on the platform so passengers can plan accordingly. Screens on board show the train’s progress on a map and state how many minutes late it’s running (no more than three, which are always caught up between stops). The Wi-fi works seamlessly. I can’t help but feel these little frills signal a genuine culture of care.
Land at Gatwick, by contrast, and you’re greeted by ever-moving departure times, last-minute platform changes, trains covered in biscuit crumbs and folding tables that screech like banshees. The only downside to German accuracy is that, as I saw, an able-bodied man won’t hesitate to turf a visibly pregnant woman out of her seat because he has it reserved, even if there are plenty of other places available. I suppose you can’t have everything.
It was a Sunday night after the Munich Security Conference and the waitress in her Bavarian dirndl was keeping the group well-supplied with beer. At first glance, one might have mistaken them for a table of business colleagues relaxing after a weekend’s hard work. Except that, to a man, the suits were too tight over the bulging shoulders, the faces broad and thuggish – and then, as one of them walked stiffly to the loos, his jacket flapped to reveal a handgun in his pocket.
On closer inspection, two of them were wearing earpieces. They were evidently a group of security beefs and, despite the pints, were on duty.
The security men had positioned themselves next to an internal window looking onto another room, where their employers, with wives, had convened a dinner. Nearby, a table of two scruffily dressed men in brown suits and women in blouses were eating timidly – the think tank wonks. And in front of them was a table of wiry, smug types in jeans and T-shirts – the media. Outside the restaurant were four black Mercedes parked in a row.
In a single Bavarian restaurant, these four tribes from the conference were dining before scattering back to their natural habitats. Most conferences convene members of the same tribe to wade into the weeds of arcane trends. In Munich, people from wildly different worlds gather to talk in epic generalities about the fate of countries, industries, continents. To be honest, they looked happy to be retreating back into their usual bubbles.