Moving between two worlds, it’s a process of disconnecting from nature and gradually reconnecting.
By the time most people are still pouring their first coffee, Christian Böhler is already well into his day. Living on a small farm near the Baltic Sea, his 100-kilometer commute to Hapag-Lloyd’s Hamburg office takes him through forests and expansive wheat fields, occasionally bringing wild boars and deer into view.
Christian works in IT – in a role that’s tricky to explain to anyone outside the field. As a SAFe Release Train Engineer, he acts as a kind of conductor, coordinating multiple agile teams working on complex IT projects. His job is to keep dozens of moving parts in sync, remove obstacles, and maintain a steady rhythm of progress. It’s a mindset of precision and timing – the same approach that guides his commute, where every minute and every connection matters.
His two-hour journey is timed like clockwork, with each connection acting as a small test of precision. The shift from the calm of the countryside to the bustle of Hamburg feels like moving between two worlds. “It’s a process of disconnecting from nature and gradually reconnecting,” he explains. “We want our kids to grow up surrounded by nature. If that means I have to make a two-hour commute work – I’m happy to take that on.”
Ride along as Christian travels from quiet country roads to busy city streets – a two-hour journey between two very different worlds:
Christian’s first and most cherished task in the morning is spending time with his youngest daughter before dropping her off at kindergarten. These precious minutes will carry him through the day. One last kiss, a wave at the kindergarten fence and the second act of his journey begins: the long route from the stillness of the Baltic countryside to the heartbeat of Hamburg. He shifts gears – from father to commuter, from the stillness of home to the rhythm of rails.
Directly opposite the kindergarten, Christian boards the train at Schöneberg, Mecklenburg, and heads to Lübeck, where the real game of perfect timing begins. And you might wonder: Is Christian a seasoned IT professional or simply the ultimate German, disciplined, organized – always on time?
If the stairs at Lübeck station are crowded, he already knows he’ll miss the Regional-Express Sprinter to Hamburg which departs on the hour. Knowing exactly where to stand – front, middle, or back of the train – saves precious minutes. But like any experienced commuter, he always has a plan B: the slower train leaving ten minutes later which he affectionately nicknamed the “Bummel-Express” – a colloquial German term for a local train that stops at nearly every station, taking its time to reach the destination.
By the time he boards the train to Hamburg, Christian is already deep into his first tasks of the day. Emails, offline work, messages – this part of the commute is his first productivity window, and he treats it as an extension of the office. “Those hours on the train are more than a commute,” he reflects. “They’re a buffer between two worlds. It’s a space to think and to prepare. That way, once I return home, my time is truly for my family.”
Like Christian, about
commuters travel into Hamburg daily.
Source: Hamburg - Pendleratlas




With all the kindergarten and train germs, I like to give my immune system a boost with fresh orange juice with ginger.
Between the rhythm of stations and the hum of the tracks, small connections with fellow passengers bring warmth to the journey. Over the years, a community of commuters has formed. Christian often chats with a musician on his way to the hearing aid acoustics school or exchanges smiles with familiar faces. These fleeting encounters make the long journey feel a little lighter. Arriving at Hamburg’s main station, he takes the short walk to the Hapag-Lloyd office. But not before his ritual stop: two pretzels from a bakery, sometimes still warm, and often a fresh orange juice with ginger. “With all the kindergarten and train germs, I like to give my immune system a boost,” Christian says with a smile.
For now, his routine runs like clockwork. But in 2028, when the Lübeck–Hamburg line closes, his commute will stretch to a whooping three hours. But until then, he savors the rhythm he’s built – between effort and ease, country calm, city buzz, and the quiet joy that grows stronger with every passing mile home. Because he knows: at the end of the rails, a little hand will wave, a small voice will call out: “Daddy’s back!” And in that moment, every train, every mile, every early morning feels entirely worth it.


