In Search of Europe

The Goethe-Schiller Monument (Weimar)

While many politicians, under the influence of their old American friends, are with a lot of saber clatter loudly advocating for a Europe that appears increasingly soulless and unsettling to me, I embarked on a journey in May to search for the Europe I have always believed in and in which I feel at home. The guiding question during my journey was whether “my” Europe, proud and traditionally based on sensitive rationality rather than emotions, on evident facts rather than “what one wants to hear,” on open dialogue rather than favoritism, on individual freedom rather than docile conformity, on spontaneous hospitality rather than hostility—and so on—still exists, or if it has succumbed defenselessly to a Europe whose celebrated “unity” consists of little more than the collectively created imagination of demonic enemies, the fear of being on the wrong side of history, and the pursued disastrous strategy (especially for Europe) that those enemies must be “defeated” at all costs. How did it come to this, one wonders? But well, it is what it is.

The travel formula for this quest for Europe was as follows: traveling by train (Interrail, Global Pass for one month, first class), 7 travel days, an average of 4 nights at each destination, no fixed route, seeking ordinary life, following my inner compass, and seeing what happens. The journey eventually took me to Dornach (Switzerland), Genova Sturla (Italian Riviera), Capella (Tuscany), Innsbruck (Austria), Weimar (Central Germany), and Rostock (Baltic Sea). In total, about 3300 km, 28 trains, and numerous fascinating train stations where I could observe the station life for an hour each time, including Frankfurt, Basel, Zurich, Chiasso, Milan, Genoa, Pisa, Bologna, Verona, Munich, and Hamburg. I visited two seas and very different landscapes. The weather, coincidentally, was consistently around 20 degrees, mostly sunny, and without rainy days. It became a beautiful, varied adventure in which I experienced, saw, smelled, tasted, touched, and heard a lot, interacted with many people, walked endlessly, and delved into local life. My main conclusion: the Europe where I feel safe, welcome, comfortable, inspired, and strong still exists, although it often lies deep and quietly hidden behind the hype, tumult, and endless chattering of the modern media, that seems to want to make us believe the opposite every day.

Everywhere I stayed, I went on many walks: in the green hills of Switzerland, along the rugged coast of the Italian Riviera, in the shady valleys of Tuscany, along the rushing river flowing through Innsbruck, in the park-like forests of Weimar, and along the enchanting ghost forest on the coast of Rostock. In total, I walked about 400 kilometers in 30 days. Everywhere, I enjoyed the beautiful spring bloom of the diverse European landscape filled with birdsong. Of course, I also noticed how all those areas are gradually threatened in their natural development, being filled with antennas, windmills, dissected by new roads, or slowly engulfed by expanding industrial areas for infrastructure, economic, or other reasons. How this will progress in the future is definitely one of the many major challenges facing Europe. Nonetheless, much is still intact: forests, fields, streams, herbs, butterflies, birds, lizards, snakes, hares, deer, and sometimes even the true darkness of night with a stunningly impressive starry sky. There is still plenty of room for wonder, a way of being that formed the basis of our European culture about 2500 years ago, but now seems to be increasingly seen as a danger to our supposed certainties.

European birds have played an important role during my journey; they were my guides. They always make me feel at home. Observing birds for 50 years, knowing many European species, familiar with their specific songs, and constantly keeping my ears open to what is happening in the surroundings, all it takes is arriving at a train station and you can already hear them: the Black Redstart, the European Canary, the Sparrows, and so on. For many people, the world of birds is completely unknown, but for me, it’s a dimension of existence that is always there. Their songs lead me to places in nature where many of these winged friends can be found, places that the average city dweller rarely visits due to a lack of entertainment. This was also true during this journey. I was greeted by birds at all my destinations, they guided me to beautiful hiking areas, introduced me to their local habitats, and I encountered species I had never seen before. The most memorable encounters were with the Japanese Nightingale, reintroduced in Tuscany in the previous century, the incredibly beautiful Blue Rock Thrush, the Golden Oriole, and the awe-inspiring Golden Eagle soaring through the valley from the mountains.

And then there are the people. Oh my, there are so many people, all on their way, busy with their lives, work, or the search for relaxation. I experienced this especially at the train stations, where the dynamics, roughly speaking, are 98% the same everywhere, with only the local background differing (the classically built station in Milan is incomparable to the modern station in Frankfurt). As a distant observer, the crowd rushes around you like a dynamic chaos, and after a while, it could make you feel melancholic. However, if you gently flow with that stream, unexpected and delightful things often happen. During my journey, I met and spoke to many friendly, hospitable, and helpful people. From an optician in Genoa who repaired my sunglasses for free, a hotel owner in the hills of Tuscany who drove me to the train station in Lucca, a train conductor with endless patience when my travel app didn’t work, a receptionist in Rostock who made sure I always had a free bike at my disposal, people who friendly showed me the way, and more. These small gestures make you feel welcome, seen, and well-treated, wherever you are. Apart from a rude beggar in Rostock (who burped loudly in someone’s face when they didn’t give him anything), I didn’t encounter any unpleasant people, and I always felt safe. I spoke to people everywhere about all sorts of daily things. The conversations I had in a former monastery/hotel in Tuscany, called ‘Relais Farinati,’ were particularly special. There was no television, and every evening, about 15 guests, mostly older couples, dined under the patio, overlooking the beautiful valley that included Lucca. During the eight days I stayed there, I sat at the table with Italians, Americans, Canadians, Brits, Germans, Austrians, and Poles. What struck me was their broad and open perspective on what is happening in the world and in life, their non-prejudiced critical thinking, their restrained judgment, the questions they ask themselves, and the nuanced analysis of issues that concern us all today. There was no trace of disrespect or polarizing thinking that so many people seem trapped in these days. My fear that people, influenced by politics and media, are gradually becoming “automatons” in their actions was clearly refuted in Tuscany, and actually throughout my entire journey. There is something alive in the consciousness, hearts, and will of people that, will make ‘common sense’ to prevail, despite all the influences and trends.

The cultural highlight of my “Europe trip” was, alongside a visit to the Goetheanum in Dornach, the city of Weimar. Weimar Classicism (late 18th century), with its founding fathers Herder, Goethe, and Schiller, has been an inspiration for me since my study time, shaping a European humanism based on a synthesis of individual ethical freedom (Romanticism), rational, ethical, and aesthetic values rooted in the ideas of ancient Greece (Classicism), and the more political ideals of the Enlightenment (intellectual freedom, legal equality, and economic brotherhood). The visits to the homes and museums dedicated to Goethe and Schiller injected me with an aesthetic and artistic inspiration to continue on the path of thinking I embarked upon during my studies. The homes of Liszt, Bach, Steiner (who published Goethe’s scientific work), and the Nietzsche Archive decorated by van de Velde (the house where Nietzsche spent his final years submerged in spiritual darkness) were also impressive. The Bauhaus Museum (the Bauhaus group originated in Weimar) was an experience in itself, although its strong focus on technology and functionality has less appeal to me. The temporary involvement of van de Velde (Arts and Crafts movement), Klee, and Kandinsky however gives it its luster and historical significance, especially considering the harsh confrontation with National Socialism in the 1930s, which ultimately led to WWII and left, amidst the destructive warfare, nothing of the humanistic ideas that once flourished in Weimar.

In summary, “In Search of Europe” was a pleasant, inspiring, and successful endeavor in many respects. Although a month was actually too short, I can affirm that the Europe where I feel welcome, safe, comfortable, inspired, strong, in short ‘at home’, still exists if you take the time to discover it. However, the challenges are immense, if the soul of a Europe with a human face is to survive in the future.

The itinerary of my Europe-trip