La Caravane de la Soif

With recent events, triggered by the US-Israeli attack on Iran, I was reminded a scenario workshop where a potential blockage of the Straight of Hormuz was discussed extensively in the context of alternatives provided through the “One Belt, One Road Initiative”. But let’s not go into that now. We all had enough geopolitical ignorance Made in America, by now. Instead, looking into Mediterranean travel and crossing Île de Bendor, I recalled “La Caravane de la Soif” masterminded by Paul Ricard’s during the Suez Crisis. This was a masterpiece of turning challenge into opportunity. Paul Ricard had built his pastis empire not just on a unique recipe, but on an aggressive, direct-distribution model. Since launching “Ricard, the true Pastis of Marseille” in 1932, he had relied heavily on a fleet of branded delivery trucks to supply bistros and cafés across France.

The Suez Crisis began in July 1956 when Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal Company, a joint British-French enterprise. In response, Britain, France, and Israel launched a coordinated military operation in October and November 1956 to regain control of the canal. The conflict resulted in the canal being blocked by sunken ships for several months, severely disrupting global trade routes, particularly the flow of oil from the Middle East to Europe. This disruption led to an acute fuel shortage in France and Britain. By late 1956, petrol rationing was introduced, forcing businesses and citizens to drastically alter their daily operations and transportation methods.

For Paul Ricard’s company the petrol rationing threatened to paralyze this distribution network, potentially cutting off the supply of his highly popular aniseed spirit to the crucial Parisian market. Faced with the inability to use his delivery trucks, Paul Ricard devised a brilliant and audacious solution. He decided to bypass the fuel shortage entirely by using an ancient mode of transport: the camel. Ricard organized a caravan of camels to deliver his pastis directly to the bars and cafés of Paris. This initiative was famously dubbed the “Caravane de la Soif” (Caravan of Thirst).

Paul Ricard must have been quite a character and reminds me of figures like Jim Thompson, reviving the Thai silk industry after WWII and mysteriously disappearing in the jungle. Ricard tested his recipes first illegally in bars and restaurants, and by that gained a unique edge during prohibition. Ricard, a passionate painter, was also a significant figure in motorsports, notably constructing his own racing facility, the Circuit Paul Ricard, in Le Castellet in 1969. When it opened in 1970, the track was considered one of the safest in the world and featured advanced facilities that made it a premier destination for Formula 1 testing and the French Grand Prix. Beyond racing, he was a dedicated developer and philanthropist, donating several Mediterranean islands, including Île de Bendor, to the French government to promote tourism. Further, appalled by industrial pollution in the Mediterranean, he founded the Observatoire de la Mer in 1966, which evolved into the Paul Ricard Oceanographic Institute to research and raise awareness about marine health.

Paul Ricard published his autobiography, La Passion de Créer in 1983. I have to admit, I did not read it yet. But when the time has come that I start to read other people’s autobiographies, it’s on my list

How to prepare if you have to use the German Railway

I embarked a train trip from Germany to Switzerland and unfortunately there was no Swiss train matching my schedule. So, there was no other choice than using a connection supplied and operated by the German Railway Company, called Deutsche Bahn. I really like travelling by train, and I did so in many parts of the World. But it’s always important to know what to expect so you can best prepare for the journey. And in the case of Germany, you may go in with the misconception, that you can experience a certain standard in one of the world’s richest countries.

I better give you a few tips below.

1. Plan direct connections where you don’t have to change trains on the way. It is likely you will miss your connection and get stranded somewhere in a filthy train station for hours.

2. Have nice words ready for the train staff. They are mostly very friendly and take any situation with good humour trying to keep the spirit high. They often go more than the “extra mile” to help, whatever happens. And it’s always better, to crack a few jokes together than complain.

3. If you still have hand sanitiser from the Covid times, take it with you. For example, this journey started in Wiesbaden with a drug addict vomiting all over the place.

4. When you wash your hands in the bathroom, always check first whether the water is running before using soap. Otherwise, you may find yourself with soap in your hands and no way to wash it off. Anybody who travelled in developing countries knows the situation.

5. Don’t wear light colour clothes, because the trains may be really dirty. Perhaps even consider bringing something to cover the seats. People eat, drink, crumble and spill everywhere. I even developed a theory of why Germans like to travel with backpacks. Then they still have both hands to keep eating Chicken McNuggets while they walk. At the same time, they will jam their backpacks into your ribs.

6. In summer, the air conditioning notoriously malfunctions. So, carry a small hand fan. I got used to this when I travelled on the Columbo-Kandy train in Sri Lanka. And it comes in handy in Germany too.

7. There are actually quiet compartments where passengers are not supposed to use their phones. But some people don’t care and yell into their phones. Take some noise-cancellation earphones not to be forced to participate in their conversations. Here it comes in handy if you don’t understand German because at least the dull content will not bother you, and it’s just noise.

8. Some fellow passengers may watch movie clips or listen to music without headphones. Or, in the worst case, they blast you with a computer game. What helps here is a Wifi and GSM jammer, which interrupt the internet connection. You can buy these Shenzen. As a result, your fellow passengers will get very upset for a few minutes, because they first have to develop an alternative to what to do with their little lives in the time to come. Then they order alcohol, gaze out of the window and fall asleep. Job done.

9. Should you plan to work with a Laptop, synch your files and Outlook client to a local drive. There is wireless internet, in theory, but it’s patchy and slow.

10. Last but not least. Most of these tips refer to long haul trains which are relatively safe. But should you ever come into the situation that you have to take a local train (e.g. “S-Bahn”), you also have to consider repelling real troublemakers. Of course, de-escalation is the best first response. But even if this is successful, still consider informing the police. People who are really looking for trouble, will continue harassing others who maybe even more vulnerable. Should it come to the worst, in such confined spaces the application of teargas will cause more harm than good. Also, I learned recently that CS does not stop effectively somebody who is on drugs. So the methods of choice pacifying a Zombie are electroshock, stun grenades and cable binders for the aftermath. Besides the omnipresence of drugs, also knifes make such incidents really dangerous. On the positive side, luckily, Germany has relatively strict regulations for firearms and they are usually not involved. But better stay away from local public transport and take an Uber or rent a car.

The Deutsche Bahn has announced that they will fix all these issues by 2070. So, not in my lifetime. For me, should I have to procure the services of Deutsche Bahn again, I will take it as an adventure and with a smile, a backpack, Chicken McNuggets in one hand and a stun grenade in the other.

Asshole Management

Asshole Management is an art form by which subjects are neutralized effectively, while resources employed in this process are kept minimal. Here “a person counts as an asshole when, and only when, he systematically allows himself to enjoy special advantages in interpersonal relations out of an entrenched sense of entitlement that immunizes him against the complaints of other people” (James, Aaron. Assholes: A Theory (pp. 4-5). Nicholas Brealey Publishing. Kindle Edition).

From this, we can already conclude that assholes cannot be ignored, because then they expand. They further cannot be educated, as they do not follow logic or moral arguments. Should an asshole recognize you as somebody who can provide any kind of advantages to him, you can also not walk away, as the asshole will follow. Assholes need to be dealt with.

There are a few ways to deal with them effectively. Counterintuitively, it needs to encourage them to become even bigger assholes. You can achieve that, by giving them the sense that they are actually entitled to even more. Then let him engage with a second asshole, who objects to that entitlement. We call this, the anti-asshole. If managed well, the two assholes will engage in a personal war. The energy released in such asshole-anti-asshole reaction may be quite high so that it is recommended to contain it in a confined physical and social space. In the end, it is a process of asshole fusion and is better kept in a safe reactor. Make sure all resources assholes need, are available in the reactor. But the reaction should also not be too efficient, because we need both of them to melt down in the process. Residual assholes, which did not burn down completely, will have to be treated as toxic waste.

If you run short of anti-assholes in your environment, there is a second strategy: catalyze the asshole’s energy towards self-destruction. Again this needs encouragement and making the asshole believe, he is capable to perform things which he truly is not. An asshole which really believes he is above the law, biology, and physics is a quite vulnerable creature. The asshole will self accelerate fueled by arrogance, greed, adrenalin, and testosterone. But if it bounces randomly against close obstacles, it may not reach fatal speed. It needs undisturbed egocentricity to maximize the speed before a clearly defined impact. You need to pave the runway to hell. Again, the energy released when assholes hit the target zone, may be quite high and should be evacuated.

There are different kinds of assholes, which need slightly adjusted management. But there is one asshole sub-species, which is extremely hard to deal with. It’s the “victim asshole” (VA), which pretends to be disadvantaged to achieve advantages. The first problem here is, to discriminate between people who really need our help and VAs. I have been thinking about VA quick tests, but none of them had significant results. More research is needed here.

Forbidden clothes

I find it appalling that in the 21st century some governments outlaw certain kinds of apparel, namely types of Muslim women’s clothes. Even the argument that it would be a symbol of oppression, I can only partly follow. At least, the veiled Muslim women I know: should it be oppression, they would be the first ones taking it off. Some do, some don’t. The other argument is, that disguise threatens public security. The late Peter Scholl-Latour, the Middle East Expert, even said that Burkas should be banned, because even a man could hide in them. I am not sure what made men in women’s clothes more dangerous to Peter, but I am sure he spoke from rich experience. It may have caused him surprises at some point. And then there is Boris Johnson, recently appealing to his ale drinking electoral base, making jokes that such women look like letter boxes. It’s too easy to counter that by making jokes about Neanderthals, Boris. Looked into a mirror recently? Hahaha! How I love this British humour. 

Unfortunately, it’s not just men with homophobia and dumb humour, but today I also had to witness some English women making depreciating comments on Muslim women’s looks who were wearing Hijabs. Given that they were clearly sitting in the glasshouse throwing stones, when it comes to beauty and style, I could not help seeking clarification.

It went about like this:

“Sorry, but from the Muslim ladies I know, they are not just well dressed, elegant, graceful and take good care of details; but they are also educated, interested, speak 5 languages and play chess. By contrary, from the English women I know, there are some but not many who have these qualities combined. So, ‘be the change you want to see’ – and sorry, for quoting Gandhi to educate English people. This may hurt your superiority feelings."

… (some vulgar response) ...

You remember who Gandhi was, right?

…  (some incorrect response, followed by the attempt to be funny) ...

No, he was not a naked man with diapers and a turban … Why don’t you have look in the Encyclopedia Britannica?

…. (confused attempt to change the subject) ...

"Oh, you are from Manchester? Then look him up on YouTube. Gandhi not Gandy … ah, enjoy your holidays … good luck, ladies!”

The long shadow of Anton Siegmund

Anton rarely talked much. But when he spoke to me, his words were brutal and secretive. He stood above the law, did not respect concepts like governments, and if you wanted to come closer than 3 meters, you needed a visa. He was a one man country, in which he tolerated his family and close allies only. All he was up to, was to defend this country - whatever it takes - absolutely, whatever it takes. He lead his family on the refugee track from Eastern Prussia, to the Soviet Occupied Zone of Germany, then further to West Germany. He wanted to continue to Canada, but then aborted the idea. He lost three children, and fought on the Eastern front. Anton Siegmund was my grandfather. And I believe, he was not what we like to think he was. I think he was worse.

Anton Siegmund with his Trakehner horses

Recently, I made the suggestion to bring my mother to her birth place in Voigsdorf, close to Rösel (now Poland), not far from Kaliningrad (back then Königsberg, now Russia). I received stiff opposition from all my mother's family to my idea, not because of my mother's weak health, but I was told: "It is not what it was". Of course, I respect that and vented the idea that I go myself and take a photo of my mother's birth house. And the response echoed: "It is not, what it was". This made me think, that it may have never been what "it was" in their minds. It is not uncommon for refugees to exaggerate their origin, and not uncommon for Germans to blur their Nazi past.

Anton had gaps, when talking about what he did in Russia. Sometimes, he was making jokes about dead Russian soldiers, and was mocking the wives and loved ones on the photos he found in their rucksacks, when he was searching them for food. He told about loosing his horse, but just being able to grab his rifle from the animal, and that nothing else matters than a gun, ammunition, water and food. And of course, for me as a teenager back then, he was a hero, and independent mind, who knew what is important in life, a rebel and all what the perceived "looser generation" of our parents were not. As a matter of fact, my parent's generation rebuilt this county after my grandparent's generation destroyed it. Then of course, all my aunts echoed the stories of Anton deliberately missing women and children with his gunfire, and being rescued by his Polish workers from the Russian military tribunal because he treated his workers so well. Well, maybe not. I remember that once in a delusion, he asked me to put his household helper in chains, as a punishment for a bad haircut. Anton was handicapend by a bullet wound in the right shoulder. But he was an exceptionally strong man. His stubborness  was sometimes interpreted as some kind of wisdom. I think it was dementia which brought him closer to the truth. He told me, that I have to be a good boy, otherwise he will have to stay in hell for the rest of eternity. He made me promise, to get him out of there by being a good person. I promised. Of course I did. I love my grandpa. Anton kept being the undisputed patriarch of the family until his last breath and beyond. 

I decided to go this summer in June to the house my mother was born, and try to close the circle of a long story. Anton Siegmund, had a long shadow over two generations. It was a cold shadow, with sharp edges. And it may have rescued his family. But it blocked the sunshine for far too many years.