It was early morning in Berchtesgaden, and the air carried that rare blend of crisp alpine freshness and quiet anticipation. Just in front of the Kempinski Hotel, I found the bench — not hidden, not famous, just there. Facing the mountains like a quiet observer, as if it had been watching centuries unfold across those jagged peaks.
The bench overlooked a view that seemed almost too perfect: the Mountains rising like a frozen wave, clouds clinging to its shoulders, the land stretching below in soft greens and scattered rooftops. Behind me, the buzz of the Digital Leader Summit was still fresh in my mind — a day full of visions, tech talks, and electric ideas. I had been invited to speak, to share thoughts on a future being written now.
But in that moment, it was the past that called louder.
Ute and I had taken time to visit the Dokumentation Obersalzberg, just a short distance up the slope. A place where the quiet turns heavy and the air feels denser. Learning about the shadows cast by power and propaganda, it was impossible not to feel the contrast — between what humans are capable of at their worst, and the potential they carry at their best.
🏔️ Did you know? The mountain above — the Obersalzberg — was once the ideological center of the Nazis regime. From the Berghof residence perched up high, they ruled with terrifying influence. The area, now home to a documentation center and museum, has transformed into a place of learning, reflection, and remembrance.
Sitting on that bench, I let it all settle. The ideas of tomorrow discussed just meters away. The history that still echoes through these hills. And the unwavering presence of the Alps, timeless and watchful. It felt like standing at a crossroads — of then and now, of hope and caution.
And maybe that’s what makes this bench special: it doesn’t ask you to choose between progress and memory. It just lets you sit and take in both.
