I lived in Mecklenburg until 12 years ago. Then I moved to Berlin. Some people might even say I fled to Berlin. And there’s an element of truth in that. I fled from the characteristic atmosphere, the thing most visitors really like about this state: the peace, the tranquillity. But Berlin – well at least Brandenburg – borders on Mecklenburg, and if that hadn’t been the case I’m not so sure whether I would have gone to Berlin.

My sister always argues with newcomers about the pronunciation of Mecklenburg. A lot of people pronounce the first syllable very short and hard, and every time this happens she insists that the “e” should be long and open. But they find this difficult to believe and reply that there’s no logical reason, neither linguistic nor geographical. Then my sister always refers to the woman professor at the Free University in Berlin who once told her about the typical Mecklenburg “c” that lengthens the preceding vowel. And she wins the argument every time. No one has ever managed to prove her wrong.

The people on Germany’s Baltic coast are known for their perseverance, stubbornness and slowness. There’s an old Bismarck saying that seems to have stuck forever: “When the world comes to an end, I’ll go to Mecklenburg, because there the world will end 50 years later.” This is what the ageing chancellor of the German Reich, Otto von Bismarck (1815– 1898), is reputed to have said. And the people of Mecklenburg don’t mind at all; sometimes they’re even proud of it, as if it were something special.