If I’m ever in the area, I have to go to Haithabu! – You don’t know Haithabu? Ohoh, then I’ll help out a little: This is where one of the most important long-distance trading centres in Europe at the time was established in the 8th century – this is where the ‘Vikings’ came together after their raiding and trading expeditions. They traded or sold goods (mercury from Afghanistan, walrus teeth from the White Sea, spices and oils/perfume from the Orient) and slaves. These came from raids to Ireland, Scotland and England, which were traded or sold together with furs and raw metals. Some say that Haithabu was THE centre of the early medieval world, where a ‘stabilising’ counterbalance was found after the collapse of the empires in the Mediterranean region, and where quite obviously the arts and jewellery craft also flourished. – Haithabu as early medieval Rome?

Well, the migration of peoples pretty much shook up everything in Europe of the time. The northern peoples reacted most flexibly to this, using their seafaring skills (and their courage to go on voyages of discovery outside the Mediterranean) to reconnect and link the world of the time. The ‘Vikings’ settled Greenland, Iceland and vast stretches of land in the Baltic Sea; they went out as far as Newfoundland/America in the west, as far as the White Sea in the east and along the Volga to the Caspian Sea, as well as through the Black Sea to the Near East/Byzantium. But it was a colourful mixture of peoples (as the most diverse burial sites in Haithabu show) that settled here, without a unifying or even common strategy, led decentrally and organised in tribes. And, of course, focused on their own advantage: Surviving as best they could, with very idiosyncratic moral and sexual concepts. Living in ‘harmony with nature’ was hard, required courage and assertiveness. Manhood could, indeed had to be proven in battle and in bed. Raids helped both reputation and the supply of goods. Women could also go on a foray; those who knew how to row and wanted to fight were part of it. Women could also own goods and do business; women could marry men ‘on trial’ – if sex with the chosen one was not satisfactory, they could divorce him on that very ground. Female slaves shared house and bed, but could not acquire goods. After the death of their ruler, they were sent to their death with him and buried together; in the afterlife, she was to continue to serve him – and the wife/widow took over the property. (An ideal field of activity for Christian missionaries, who found a promising field of activity in Haithabu – the court of the heathens. Around 850, they built the first church in northern Europe in Haithabu. For a long time, however, Jesus was only one god among several; after all, he also promised eternal life to those who had nothing. That drew.)

I cycle to Rendsburg station, take the train to Schleswig, and continue on the same bike to the Danewerk, a wall dozens of kilometres long from west to east across the peninsula on which today’s Denmark was built in later centuries. Haithabu was built on one of these ramparts, which was itself surrounded by a protective wall. Here, a settlement has been reconstructed in fragments; there are seven houses so far, a dock for ships, and many ‘villagers’ scurry around dressed in early medieval costumes, offering an impressive spectacle with their handicraft products so that visitors get an impression of how people lived and worked in those days. Talking to these performers was very informative because some of them have been following the excavations for years and have studied the period intensively. Conclusion: Comparing Haithabu with Rome is nonsense in terms of cultural history; the people of that time had hardly any historical consciousness, lived entirely in the now. Writing and ‘science’ were only developed in fragments. There were religious stories and legends, but everything was subordinated to the survival of the community and was oriented towards the practical, without philosophical pretensions. The building material was also more like that of the Stone Age than the Bronze Age, wood and clay dominated, stone or brick were hardly used, people lived in extended large families in longhouses covered with straw; livestock, a bedroom for everyone (including slaves), a kitchen and workplaces were found under one roof.

From my point of view (living space within the semicircular rampart), only a few thousand people lived in Haithabu. But there must have been a lot of coming and going over three centuries. For this place was ideally situated, could be reached by ship from the Baltic Sea as well as from the North Sea depending on the water level, was protected from the forces of nature and was the destination of most ship voyages at that time. Trade was the driver! – We know: Whoever controls trade controls people, has power. In the centre of Europe, new powers began to expand their influence, along with the Church of the One God. This marketplace in the north was a disruptive factor; in the 11th century Haithabu was razed to the ground, was burnt and forgotten. From then on, the ‘Vikings’ were history, or rather history was rewritten; the time of the scattered tribes in the north was over. Traces from that time can be marvelled at in the superbly made museum, but that’s all there is. Haithabu lives in the mind.

After the visit I cycle back to the station, continue by train to Rendsburg, from there to the harbour; I start the ArgoFram and chug along the canal to Brunsbüttel, the lock town on the Elbe, where the canal flows from the Baltic into the North Sea. – I’m late; the marina is overcrowded, sometimes there are three to four boats next to each other; you scramble from boat to boat and only then to the jetty. Everyone wants to go on the next morning, some to Hamburg, me to the nearest port with petrol… I am somehow trapped, because neither Brunsbüttel nor Cuxhaven has a petrol station on the water, even Bremerhaven has no petrol, only Hamburg – but to drive 80 km there to drive 80 km back, to fill up for the price, but to burn 160 litres for it, I don’t do that.

I walk around Brunsbüttel, take a look at the small town, and realise how much I would be harassed as a resident here: At every turn I am told by billboards or objects in the street how I should think and what I should do… Many shops are empty, for rent; the cultivated gastronomy (as it is praised in the city guide) is represented by sausage, pizza and kebab stalls. On the other hand, property prices are said to have doubled in the past six years, as a homeowner assured me when we looked together into an estate agent’s shop window and struck up a conversation: Middle-class families are moving away from Hamburg, putting pressure on house prices here. Whereby Corona serves as an accelerator; whoever is able, buys a house to get out of the big city flat. For a German, a journey of almost 100 km to the workplace hardly matters any more.

Now it is getting late. I retire to the ship and suffer a terrible night: Lying only a few metres next to the lock entrance is not a good choice, but the only option far and wide – the vibration of the engines/propellers/rudders of the big ships leave their acoustic traces under water; this is what it must feel like as a whale or fish when the engines roar above them. Although the cabin of the ArgoFram was insulated on the inside for this very reason, I hardly get any sleep. Again and again in my cabin I have the impression of being overpowered in slow motion by one of the 250-metre-long rocket-propelled monsters. It’s kind of awesome to lie right next to these vibrating hunks entering or leaving the reservoir. – Another long day, and it doesn’t seem to end.