There's something that surprisingly many people talk about when they drive from Germany to Denmark.
You cross the border and suddenly something changes.
Of course, not everything is different all at once. But the atmosphere becomes quieter. Cars drive slower, the pace is more even, there's less pushing and less rushing.
And remarkably, something happens to you too. You become calmer.
You take your foot off the gas, not just literally.
Driving no longer feels like a competition. You don't constantly have to think about whether someone is approaching fast from behind, whether you should quickly overtake, whether you're in someone's way, or whether you can squeeze out a few more minutes.
You just drive.
And this "just driving" is probably already part of what so many people love about Denmark.
This calm.
This deceleration.
This feeling that not everything has to constantly go faster.
Many describe that as hygge. Not necessarily in the classic sense with candles and coffee, but as a feeling for life. As this pleasant calm that eventually captures you too.
And I can understand that very well by now.
Because if you come from Germany, the difference can be quite obvious.
On German roads, there's often a completely different energy.
High speeds, big differences between vehicles, constant acceleration and braking, overtaking, lane changes, heavy traffic.
One drives 100, the next 130, someone comes from behind at 180 or more.
You're constantly looking in the rearview mirror.
How fast is the car behind getting closer?
Can I still pull out?
Do I need to move right again soon?
Why is he driving so close?
Why does he absolutely have to pass now?
It creates an unrest that you often don't consciously notice anymore because it's become so normal.
Until you've spent some time in Denmark. And suddenly you realize how tiring driving can be and how pleasant it is when this constant pressure is missing.
I had to think about this precisely some time ago.
Because there's a small contradiction in all this enthusiasm about Danish calm.
Aren't they often the very same people who tell you in Denmark how wonderfully relaxed driving is here, but step on the gas again as soon as they've crossed the German border on the way home?
For two weeks it goes:
"Oh, it's so pleasant here."
"The Danes are so relaxed."
"You really feel yourself calming down."
"Everything is much quieter here."
Then comes the border. Germany. And right after that, the accelerating begins again.
And of course even more. Overtaking. Lane changes. Getting to the destination as quickly as possible again.
And I ask myself:
How does that actually fit together?
If this calmer driving does us so much good, why do we abandon it the moment we're no longer forced to?
Maybe that's exactly where the interesting point lies.
Because apparently we can do it differently.
We can drive slowly.
We can stay behind someone without immediately feeling we have to pass.
We can drive a distance without wanting to optimize every minute.
And not only that: We even find it pleasant.
Maybe Denmark isn't solely responsible for why we feel decelerated there.
Maybe this country simply gives us a framework in which we allow ourselves to be slower.
If 80 is allowed, we drive 80.
If 110 is allowed, we drive 110.
And at some point we realize: We're not really missing anything. We still get there.
Maybe a few minutes later, but often much more relaxed.
But that also means: The calm we so value in Denmark doesn't just come from outside.
We contribute to it ourselves.
And that's exactly what I find fascinating.
Because traffic culture doesn't arise somewhere abstract.
It arises through the people who are on the road.
Through our speed.
Through our distance.
Through our patience.
Through the way we treat each other.
Especially in summer, countless German cars are on Danish roads.
That means: Part of that relaxed traffic atmosphere that German tourists praise so much is carried by them themselves.
They drive slower.
They adapt.
They push less.
They accept the pace.
And notice that it feels pretty good.
So they can do it.
They even like doing it.
They just apparently don't take it home with them.
As soon as the framework changes, our behavior changes too.
Not because suddenly a different person is sitting in the car.
But because there are different possibilities again.
In Germany you can drive faster in many places.
So you drive faster.
Others drive faster.
So you go along with it.
And suddenly that old feeling is back: You have to be faster.
But actually nobody forces us to.
Maybe that's the point that goes beyond driving.
Why do we so often connect speed with something positive?
Why is faster automatically better?
What do we really gain if we arrive somewhere five or ten minutes earlier?
And what do we lose along the way?
Maybe a bit of calm.
Maybe some relaxation.
Maybe exactly that feeling we love Denmark for.
Because this constant pace doesn't just happen on the road.
We work fast.
We answer fast.
We shop fast.
We quickly do something before we quickly have to get to the next appointment.
Just quickly this. Just quickly that.
And at some point we drive on vacation and say:
"Finally I can take a breath here."
That's actually remarkable.
We find a place that decelerates us and hardly are we back home before we do the exact opposite.
Maybe it would be interesting to pay attention to that on the next trip back.
You're driving on the Danish side toward the border.
Everything is quiet.
You hear music.
You talk.
You drive 110.
Then comes Germany.
And at some point the speed limit disappears.
What happens then?
Does the foot automatically press harder on the gas?
And if so - why actually?
Do you really have to drive faster?
Or do you just do it because you can again?
Maybe you could just keep driving like you did before.
Not just for principle.
Not simply as a moral statement.
But out of curiosity.
Maybe you'd then realize that Danish calm doesn't necessarily end at the border.
You can take it with you.
And maybe that would be one of the most beautiful souvenirs from Denmark.
No candle.
No licorice.
No mug with Dannebrog.
But a different feeling for speed.
The insight that you don't have to use every possibility just because it's there.
And maybe that's exactly a form of hygge that we rarely talk about.
Not just candlelight and coziness.
But the ability to slow down even though you could go faster.
Because actually, it's already a bit absurd:
We drive to Denmark because this calm does us so much good.
We rave about it.
We tell how relaxed we feel here.
And hardly are we back over the border before we hit the gas.
Maybe it would be nicer to take a little less Denmark in the trunk and a little more in the right foot.
