Postcard from Frankfurt (and thoughts across Europe)

I wasn’t expecting to like Frankfurt.

In my mind, it was just another cold, finance-shaped twin of Luxembourg or Geneva.

Sterile. Predictable.

And as someone who finds life in the overflow of giant, chaotic cities—Hong Kong, New York, Shanghai—I didn’t think Frankfurt would stir anything.

I was wrong.

I ended up canceling my trip to Berlin just to stay a bit longer.

Frankfurt surprised me with its laid-back charm: kiosks that double as bars, open-air gatherings that feel like city secrets, and a certain rhythm that made me slow down—without feeling like I was wasting time.

It is clearly a rich city.

The shops, the people, the buildings—everything looks polished, clean, orderly.

But if you wander a little off course, you’ll find something very different.

In the heart of the city, there are two streets where drug addicts are allowed to gather, get high, and stay all day and all night, screaming at each other and scaring passersby.

I realized too late that I had booked a hotel on one of these streets.

It made me pause.

How dark life can get for some.

And how strange it is that we accept this scene right in the middle of our “developed” cities.

I had never seen something similar. It triggered deeper thoughts about what freedom actually means.

In Europe, we praise freedom as the right to do whatever we want.

But lately, I’ve been wondering if that’s real freedom—or just chaos in disguise.

The ancient Greeks had a different view. To them, to be free meant to have the ability to live according to virtue and reason.

True freedom was about mastering yourself—not being mastered by your impulses.

Today, we offer unlimited choices without guidance.

And sometimes, too much choice leaves us more lost than liberated.

I was actually there for a conference on raw materials and batteries.

The big theme was Europe’s dependency on China for critical minerals—lithium, cobalt, copper, rare earths—the raw backbone of everything from batteries to data centers.

It was a blunt reminder: Europe might talk a lot about sovereignty, but China quietly holds the map.

Nearly the entire processing chain for these minerals runs through them.

The European Commission has set targets: 40% local processing, 25% recycling, 10% mining, and 65% diversified sourcing.

But from what I heard, we’re still years—and perhaps a mental model—away from true autonomy.

One speaker made a point that stayed with me:

We love funding battery recycling startups, but… what’s the point if there aren’t enough batteries to recycle yet?

Before you invest, you need a real market.

It reminded me of the ESG hype served to retail investors—empty promises wrapped in feel-good narratives.

A few nights later, I found myself sipping a beer at Das Investment, a tiny street-side kiosk.

It was my first time drinking on the pavement, glass in hand, like it was the most normal thing to do.

It felt oddly intimate. And free.

Like many European cities these days, Frankfurt wears a quiet frustration.

Everyone talks about the same things: high taxes, stagnant wages, and a feeling of slowly sinking.

A taxi driver told me, “You can work hard your whole life and still barely make it.”

I hear this everywhere now. From bankers in Paris to consultants in Amsterdam.

Even those in supposedly “high-paying” sectors are running in place.

It seems the only ones truly ahead are those who started the race with a family inheritance.

I left France two years ago because I no longer saw a future there.

My income was cut in half by taxes, and for what?

A healthcare system that can’t treat you on time. A school system where you have to beg for a public kindergarten seat before your child is even born.

One friend in Paris told me they had a 17% chance of getting a spot. City hall advised them to plead their case in person—literally explain why their baby deserved a place.

When bureaucracy meets scarcity, it looks a lot like corruption.

And maybe we should stop pretending it’s only a Southern Europe thing.

Meanwhile, people around me are quietly leaving.

To Switzerland. To Dubai. To the US.

Somehow, they still believe there’s more upside elsewhere. And I get it.

Stepping out of the French ecosystem for a while helped me see how much of our current narrative is just that—a narrative.

But once your eyes adjust to the light, it’s hard to go back into the cave.

After a few months back in Europe, I can’t shake the feeling:

The EU is falling behind—and everything moves too slowly.

We set targets but don’t meet them.

We draft strategies while others execute.

We debate, regulate, contemplate—until the opportunity has passed.

China owns the tempo. The US owns the mindset.

We—still—own our doubts and guilt.

Faithfully yours,

Marie