There are many things a foreigner can do wrong in Germany. But there is one big mistake that can haunt you for the rest of your life if you accidentally commit it.
What is it?
There are many things you can do to irritate Germans. You can cross the street on a red light while a child is watching. You can speak loudly in public, especially in a foreign language. You can put your recycling in the wrong bin and create a butterfly effect that collapses the nation’s faith in order. You might even get away with stepping on the bike lane (if you are lucky, and ready to run, not from the bikes but from the judgment). But nothing, absolutely nothing, will earn you quiet and immediate judgment like this one thing: eating a hard-boiled egg on a train.
This is not a law, or written anywhere, but it might as well be carved in the collective conscience of the German people. Bringing out a hard-boiled egg on a train is not just about snacking: it’s a social experiment (or a social EGGsperiment). And you will fail.
Enough with the jokes. This is a serious topic.
Beware!
The moment the egg appears, the atmosphere changes. It’s subtle at first: a shift in the air pressure, a narrowing of the eyes. The scent begins its diffusion. It doesn’t matter how carefully you peel it or how quickly you try to eat it. You’ve committed chemical warfare. The people around you will not speak (they’re German, after all), but you will feel the judgment radiating off their bodies like space heaters, powered by disappointment instead of electricity.
There’s something about the smell of a hard-boiled egg that triggers a very specific part of the brains of Germans, the part labeled “I didn’t agree to this.” In a country where even jaywalking draws stares of moral condemnation, releasing sulfuric snack fumes into a train is an act of self-sabotage. You are no longer a fellow passenger. You are a failure.
Some say the egg-eaters are brave. Others say they are simply unaware that food can, in fact, be enjoyed later (perhaps on a bench, alone, where no one has to smell your proteinful shame). Others say they’re agents sent by rival rail companies. All we know for certain is that one moment you’re boarding the train in Bremen with a small Tupperware, and 15 minutes later, everyone is pretending not to look at you while also planning to write about you in their group chats. So let this be your warning: if you ever feel the temptation to reach the egg from your backpack, resist. Clutch your bag. Look out the window. Think of literally anything else. Because in Germany, social rules are few, but they are ironclad. And you, my friend, are one egg away from exile (or EGGSile).
