This 28th newsletter brings together a variety of events and locations: a concert at Folkets Hus Mustadfors, the history of Katrineholm and Mustadfors, the closure of the horseshoe nail factory, music at Folkparken Valhall in Bengtsfors, a day at GLUPSK in Fengersfors, the Byafest in Dals Långed – and also the very practical work involved in expanding the Dalslands Studio.
Before I carry on, I’d like to start by wrapping up my trip to Germany. As you know, I travelled by train from Sweden to Hamburg on 27 July. It was just the first leg of a short trip around Germany, which took me first to Hamburg to visit friends and run some errands, and then on to southern Germany for my niece’s wedding. But even this train journey turned out to be a little lesson in infrastructure, big cities, detours, heat – and the strange logic of travelling.
It all began calmly and according to plan. The train travelled through southern Sweden, the countryside rolled by, and right up to the border at Padborg, everything went just as one would hope. Then came the first delay: we had to wait about an hour for the train to be handed over to the German crew. It wasn’t a big deal. But it was the first indication that behind a seemingly straightforward train journey lie many handover procedures, areas of responsibility and precisely coordinated processes.
Hamburg via a detour
After that, the real adventure began. In the summer of 2026, Hamburg was under particular strain due to the replacement of the Sternbrücke in the Altona area. The old steel bridge dating from 1926, a structure with almost a century of history, was undergoing renovation from mid-July; at the same time, the important connecting railway line between Sternschanze and Altona was closed for several weeks. The consequences were felt far beyond the immediate construction site area: S-Bahn, regional and long-distance services had to be diverted, replaced or reorganised.
Our train therefore did not reach Hamburg via the usual route. It was routed via lines that were apparently just as unfamiliar to most passengers as they were to me: via Barmbek and Tiefstack, on tracks that are presumably known only to those who deal with the Hamburg rail network professionally. It was one of those situations where you suddenly realise just how complex a city’s technical infrastructure is. On a map, railway tracks look like simple lines. In reality, they form a dense network of points, signal boxes, timetables, stabling yards, platforms, construction sites and safety clearances.
The train finally found its way to Hamburg Central Station. When we arrived, a stifling summer heat hung over the city. Compared to Dalsland, Hamburg seemed particularly compact, noisy and physically intense: traffic, building sites, streams of people, noise, heat, smells, shops and the tremendous speed at which everything overlaps.
The Sternbrücke
The Sternbrücke is far more than just a technical detail in Hamburg’s cityscape. It carries the railway over the junction of Max-Brauer-Allee and Stresemannstraße in Altona and is one of the busiest railway links in northern Germany. For me, it was part of everyday life for almost 40 years – the sort of thing you don’t necessarily pay attention to until it’s gone.
Photo: Hamburger Abendblatt
Around 900 trains pass along the line every day. The steel structure, built in 1926, had reached the end of its technical service life: the material was deemed fatigued and unsuitable for welding, and following investigations, refurbishment was considered unfeasible.
At the same time, its replacement had been highly controversial for years. Plans for a new structure had been under discussion and debate since around 2005. Local residents, the Hamburg Heritage Society, the Sternbrücke Initiative and the Prellbock Altona Association criticised, above all, the size of the new structure, the loss of historic commercial and casemate spaces, and the impact on the established neighbourhood. After all, pubs and clubs had become established there over the years. Legal action was also taken against the project, but ultimately without success.
The new Sternbrücke is a 108-metre-long, column-free arch bridge. It is significantly higher and wider than the old structure; its arches are a prominent feature of the cityscape. Supporters point to the technical necessity of the project, the removal of the previous columns from the street space, and improved conditions for pedestrians, cyclists and buses. Critics continue to view it as a massive intrusion into the neighbourhood and a loss of a historically grown ensemble.
A railway line for the Emperor
The closure highlighted just how important the link between Hamburg Central Station and Altona remains to this day. Its history stretches far back.
The Hamburg–Altona connecting railway was opened in 1866. It linked what was then the Free Hanseatic City of Hamburg with Altona, which at that time still belonged to the Danish – and later Prussian – sphere of influence. The two cities had long been rivals; Altona was only incorporated into Hamburg in 1937 under the Prussian Minister-President Göring through the Greater Hamburg Act. The railway line linked Altona station to the Hamburg rail network, thereby becoming a central artery for passenger and freight transport.
An initial station was built at Dammtor. The present-day Hamburg Dammtor station was opened in 1903 – deliberately designed to be imposing and put into service in the presence of Emperor Wilhelm II. It was intended as a reception station for state guests and major public events and was therefore nicknamed the ‘Kaiserbahnhof’ (Emperor’s Station).
Hamburg Central Station itself was built between 1899 and 1906. It replaced several smaller terminus stations and was intended to serve as a hub for the city’s growing railway network. Its large hall, constructed of iron and glass, is still regarded today as one of the most striking structures in Hamburg’s transport system.
For more than a century, this axis – Central Station, Dammtor, Sternschanze, Altona – functioned as a natural transport hub. It is only when a bridge is replaced and trains suddenly have to take different routes that it becomes apparent just how much a modern city relies on such connections, which usually remain out of sight.
Summer heat and the big city
The difference in temperature between Dals Långed and Hamburg was striking. In Hamburg, daytime temperatures at the end of July reached summery highs of over 30 °C, whilst in Dals Långed it was noticeably more pleasant at 25–29 °C at the same time.
I was only in Hamburg for a short while, but managed to get a lot done and see a few friends. It is precisely this mix that makes such visits so intense: appointments, journeys, conversations, memories, spontaneous encounters. The big city hits me with full force every time, and this time in the full heat as well. I don’t mean that in a negative way. Hamburg has an energy, a diversity and a density that cannot be reconciled with the quieter life in Dalsland. But after a while, I also feel quite clearly how much I’ve now got used to the different rhythm here in Dalsland.
From Hamburg, I travelled on to southern Germany for my niece’s wedding. In the last newsletter, I’d already mentioned briefly the preparations and the joy of being able to celebrate this family occasion together. Now the time had come: a wedding, lots of people from different parts of the family, conversations about years gone by and new chapters in life – and the realisation that a journey sometimes serves, above all, to nurture relationships not just digitally or over the phone, but in person.
Stuttgart and the black hole
For decades now, Stuttgart Central Station has been not just a railway station, but a major building site and a transitional space. This time, the S-Bahn platform wasn’t where you’d expect it to be. It had been moved, and the displays sent you round in circles. One moment the S-Bahn was announced as arriving on platform 1; the next, it was due to pull in at platform 7. In the sweltering heat, whole groups of passengers set off: bags, suitcases, pushchairs, rucksacks, people glancing at the display and their watches at the same time.
For a moment, it felt like a giant video game. An invisible hand shifts the target, and in response, crowds of passengers start running as fast as they can in the right direction. You find yourself wondering: Who will make it onto the train? Who will be left behind? And how many people actually really know what’s going on?
A fellow passenger I struck up a conversation with had his own explanation for this: there must be a black hole at Stuttgart Central Station. Even the train drivers, he said, probably only found out at the very last moment which platform they would actually be pulling into.
There was something apt about the image of the black hole. In quantum physics, it is said that, prior to a measurement, a system can be described as being in several possible states simultaneously. It is only the measurement that determines which state is observed. To put it very simply: a particle cannot simply be ‘here’ or ‘there’, but is described mathematically as a superposition of various possibilities.
As for Stuttgart railway station, one might jokingly say: the train is initially in a superposition of platform 1, platform 7 and perhaps another platform that nobody can find on the map, such as platform 9¾ in Harry Potter. Only when the train actually turns up does the wave function collapse – and the passengers know where they need to go. The platform display would then not be information, but an experiment with an open outcome.
Back home
In the end, the journey took me back to Dalsland. The route via Hamburg, southern Germany and Stuttgart was more exhausting than planned, but also full of encounters and observations. It made me realise once again how differently places are organised – and how much we get used to certain rhythms.
In Hamburg, the vulnerability of a railway line that had developed over a hundred years became apparent. In Stuttgart, the presence of a major construction site was physically palpable. In between lay family, friendships, heat, railway stations, delays and the realisation that sometimes you travel on tracks whose existence you were previously unaware of.
Now I’m back in Dals Långed. Here, summer is slowly giving way to autumn. Construction work is underway in the studio, festivals are being prepared in the village, music is ringing out in the Folkets Hus and Folkets Parks, and a shared sense of community is emerging once again from many small activities.
Let’s go – into a newsletter full of music, places, stories, work, encounters and the little detours that make up a life.
Yours, Andreas