Until now, I didn’t really have a personal fixed opinion about this Trump guy. He got elected. Again. If it weren’t so serious, I’d say: a pubescent teenager with global power. But unfortunately, it is serious. I consider him the man with the dumbest ideas of our time. Ideas that change the world? Maybe – but definitely not for the better. So much arrogance, smugness, self-satisfaction, hubris, presumption… it’s hard to top.
He must be pretty bored with his life. Fighting for the renaming of the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America and then pushing it through is quite an achievement.
We’re cycling through the U.S. and I keep wondering: Where are all these voters? We have not personally met a single person who is a true Trump supporter.
Trump
How stupid can one be? Trump is the next level of stupidity and I don’t like him. not even a little bit. But well, I don’t have to and he doesn’t care either. So what? Actually, I shouldn’t pay any attention to him. Nevertheless, I just want to get rid of what I was thinking during our tours on the bicycle and I wrote it down. Here it is.
“Knowing little – that’s human. Talking a lot without saying anything – that’s politics. But knowing little, talking a lot, and thinking you’re the smartest person in the room? That’s Donald Trump.
He has trouble forming coherent sentences, yet calls himself a “stable genius.” Thinks you can stop a hurricane with a nuclear bomb. Recommends drinking disinfectant to fight a virus. Says we should test less so there’ll be fewer COVID cases. Not just wrong. Dumb. And what does this mean: “I tested positively toward negative, right? So I tested perfectly this morning, meaning I tested negative.” I’m confused. And it’s getting worse. Some say he is not a racist saying: “They’re poisoning the blood of our country”. But sure, I understand, he also made it clear: “What you are seeing and what you are reading is not what is happening”.
If you’re not confused by now, I am.
Trump lies the way others breathe. Not because he has to – but because he doesn’t care. Facts are decoration. Reality is a matter of ratings.
He loves his reflection more than his country. I even doubt he loves his country at all. He loves himself. Trump makes mistakes – and celebrates them. He undermines democracies – and calls it saving them. He incites, divides, insults – and his followers cheer. You could laugh, if it weren’t so tragic. You could cry, if it weren’t already too late.
Stunned somewhere between speechlessness and the urge to scream.
But Trump isn’t just stupid. He’s the poster child for Pathological self-centeredness or ego addiction and ignorance. Aggressive cluelessness. His stupidity isn’t a lack of intelligence – it’s a conscious replacement of reason with delusion.
He isn’t just dumb. He’s dumber. Trumper. Trumpest. A caricature of his own catastrophe. A tsunami of bullshit. A nonstop commercial for anti-thinking. And the more I think about him, the more my brain screams – and the more I feel like punching something.
I. Can’t. Take. It. Anymore.
Cycling from Brownsville, Mexico to Fort Lauderdale, America
Right now, we’re traveling through the U.S. We’re reunited with our old friend Todd – feels a bit like coming home. He welcomes us with open arms, a stocked fridge, and a German flag on the porch. After 16 years, we just pick up the conversation where we left off. Todd, who “rescued” us back in Turkey on our first long bike trip.
On his property live turtles, squirrels, deer – and Travis the alligator. As soon as Todd leaves the house, Travis swims over to be closer to him.
We have our own apartment in the house. Larry, a friend of Todd’s, is visiting and loves to cook – and cook, and cook. We’re turning into round little dumplings. While Todd is cleaning his tractor, we work on the bikes. After cleaning: rust. So we spray. Rust remover, primer, black paint. We have to keep them running until June, when we’ll hand the bicyles over to Daniel from ReCycles, the best bike mechanic in Berlin. He’ll throw his hands up in horror. The bicycles have suffered.
Meanwhile: amazing vegetarian food, clean laundry – and we take a DNA test. Totally unnecessary, but fascinating. That’s what Americans like to do, because they are no natives. Only around 2% can call them “real” Americans, Natives. So all the others like to know where their roots are.
America is upside down – and we’re right in the middle of it.
We’re sitting with Todd. America is politically off-balance. Or maybe it isn’t. Trump has been reelected.
People we meet through Warmshowers (our cycling community which offers places for cyclists) are all critical. They question, discuss, fight. They’re revolutionaries. With Todd and Larry, we’re not quite sure where they stand politically. Military background, probably Republican. And yes Todds property includes a private shooting range. And yes – we’ve done some shooting.
One of their friends dropped by. We talked about the world wars, Ukraine, the state of the world, and how bad wars are. When he left, he laughed and said, “Let’s go shooting together someday.” Two worlds colliding in our minds.
Then back to daily life: alligator feeding, walks through the woods on his property with Air Force, U.S., and German flags waving. Peaceful – and at the same time, torn. The feeling stays: it’s hard to imagine a more beautiful place. And yet, we’re in a country that makes the world – and us – nervous.
What will Germany be like when we return? Also turned upside down? With hate, misinformation, and anger? What’s more dangerous: weapons or words? Words hurt. They frighten. They confuse.
Everyone we’ve met here knows: people are good. And yet they often behave strangely. Everyone complains about their government – and votes for it again. Madness.
Chaos, Christians, and the Ku Klux Klan.
Caught between radical right-wingers and devout Christians – we’re unsure how to react. We should be able to find Trump Voters everywhere. Every second person must be one: 77 million voted for Trump in 2024. 75 million for Kamala Harris. And Klaus’s sister just visited the U.S. with her husband. They live in Africa, translating the Bible. He’s American. We ask him: Why Trump? His answer: “People are overwhelmed. So they latch onto the one thing they like and know. And hope the rest will work itself out.” Is it so easy?
For me, Donald Trump is no president.
Trump has the title, but never the dignity.
He sat and sits in the White House but acted like an internet troll. He calls himself president, but rules like a self-obsessed autocrat. A real president leads a country – he doesn’t divide it, inflame it, or use it for self-promotion. Trump wore the title, but never earned it.
And here I’m, standing at the pond while Travis’s eyes hover just above the surface, waiting for Todd to come and feed him. What a strange world.
An adventure playground with guns and toothpaste.
Yes, we shoot. Todd’s property is big – with a “shooting ranch.” And I clean my shoes with a toothbrush and toothpaste. We Fix the lamp holders on the bicycles. Re-waterproof the tent. We drive the tractor, riding the mower, the airboat. Browse secondhand shops for clothing to become cruise-ship presentable. And we have amazing conversations – non-political ones. When you have friends like Todd, someone like Trump can’t really harm you.
Todd: He carries a gun — and a big heart
Yes, he always carries a gun. Ready, he says, for whatever may come. As a German, I struggle with that image. It feels foreign, contradictory. And yet, I know few people as warm, generous, and sincere as he is. This man, who walks through life armed by conviction, welcomed us with disarming kindness and showed us his world. It’s hard to reconcile. The truth is: people don’t always fit into our neat little boxes.
It’s time to leave. Thank you, Todd.
I’m so glad our paths crossed again. Thank you for your warmth, your help, your curiosity – and for all the conversations that still echo in our minds. I’m looking forward to seeing you again soon – this time in Germany, in Berlin. And don’t worry: no guns needed there. Just good coffee, bikes, and open hearts.
America and its hospitality
As we ride on, we’re once again overwhelmed by unexpected kindness. Americans take us in, offer us a bed, food, and conversation. Hospitality – not the first thing we associated with planning a trip through the U.S.
This, too, is America.
They welcomed us without hesitation. People who had been complete strangers the day before gave us a home for a while. We cooked together – vegetarian, of course – sat around the table for hours, talking about life, dreams, doubts, the state of the world. They helped us without us even needing to ask. Repaired the bag for our tent, adjusted our dragging brake, looked for the best route onward – or simply rode a stretch of the way with us themselves. We slept in church community halls, beneath stilt houses by the sea, in guest rooms of Tesla drivers, on the deck of a boat in the harbor of Miami. One night, we stayed in a converted bus.
We went on walks together, along the beach, across abandoned golf courses, feeling a quiet sense of closeness – even though we barely knew each other. But time and again came that bittersweet moment, when we said goodbye with a long look and a gentle “Take care” and “Stay safe.”
No one ever cautiously asked where we were from. They asked if we were hungry. Not what we did for a living, but how we were doing. If we needed anything.
We were welcomed like old friends. Not like strangers. This, too, is America.
Heading Miami
We head slowly toward Miami via the Keys. Florida like a daydream: sun, white beaches, palm trees. In between: hurricane damage, crumbling promenades, mansions with “For Sale” signs.
And: snowbirds! Retirees with sun hats and golf carts. Honestly? Who can blame them? Miami: Art Deco, Baywatch towers, wealth – and Miami Vice flashbacks. Tubbs & Crockett. Crazy.
Before we get on the cruise ship back to Europe – some thought, a glimpse of the future?
“Back in Europe: Where are the amazingly tasty avocados? And why don’t bananas taste the same anymore?” Three years, 31 countries, two bicycles, countless stories. Countries once considered unstable now seem like havens of calm. And now? Back on European pavement.
Could these be my first thoughts: “Why is everything so orderly here? Where are the street markets? No dogs to share bananas with. Streetfood will no longer be streetfood. No border guard arguments.
Instead: recycling bins, price tags, traffic light obedience. We’re looking forward to good bread, bike lanes, and stable currencies.
A few more things that left me almost speechless in this America
Racism – then and now
Forty years ago, I was an exchange student in America I was 16, curious – but unprepared. Apartheid was a term from the news, but the racism I encountered was very real. Whites and Blacks lived separately. Invisible boundaries, accepted by all. Once, my host sister pulled me out of class. Outside, two armed groups stood facing each other. From that moment on, I lost my innocence. I started thinking about differences. Racism entered my thoughts. Today – four decades later – it still exists. Open racism is more subtle. But structural inequality, police violence, discrimination – they remain. Why are we so slow to learn?
The flood of plastic bags used in America supermarkets. Burning garbage and resources in your backyard. Electric shopping carts. And church signs like this one: “Heaven has no open borders – hell has no exit.” No words. Or “If you don’t want God now, why should we want you later!” and one more: “Sin is like a credit card! Enjoy now, pay later!”. This one final fits perfect to the current president: “The devil is a liar – and he wants roommates”
But another sign in front of a church said: “Sign broken. For message, come inside.” I found that charming. Or this one: “Honk if you love Jesus. Text while driving if you want to meet him”. Really the last one: “Some churches preach fire and brimstone. We just use air-conditioning”.
America was amazing – and without the media flood and constant scrolling, we would’ve cycled on without a care in the world.
We met only wonderful people. Fellow cyclists, friends, drivers, park rangers, the old lady who gave us $20 as a gift – and so much more. Combined with great bicycle paths, stunning coastal scenery, safety, and as much food as we could eat.
Yes, it was amazing.
My final Statement
A Statement which certainly doesn’t just apply to America. We were often confronted with the hopelessness and paralysis in the world. That’s why we always talk about our experiences on our journey. The experience when we met young people. Maybe that helps a little to sort things out, to get answers and to trust, not in God, but in the youth.
“Simple over complex – a dangerous longing”
The deeper we cycle through Trump’s America, the more I find myself asking: How can this be? How can a country full of education, diversity and opportunity willingly cling to simplistic answers? Why are Trump flags waving from front porches like he’s part of the family? Why do people believe in a wall more than in shared responsibility?
Our world isn’t simple. Climate, war, inequality, the future of work – these aren’t problems that can be solved with tweets. They require thinking, learning, doubt. I have to stay informed. I have to care. Anything else feels like betrayal – of those who come after us. Of the children who don’t even know yet how much time we’ve already wasted.
And still, millions vote for Trump in America again. Not in spite of his simplicity – but because of it. He offers no solutions, only scapegoats. No plan, just a feeling: “I’m on your side.” And that’s enough for many. Because it’s easy. It feels like identity. Because facing the real contradictions of this world takes effort.
What makes me truly angry is not just Trump’s return – but how many of the older generations are cheering it on. The same people who lived in decades of prosperity, who still take cheap flights and cruise ships, who call for walls instead of answers – and leave the consequences to the young. Instead of taking responsibility, they cling to a glorified past while destroying the future.
It’s betrayal. Not just of reason, but of the young.
Because they will be the ones to live with the heat, the waste, the wars and divisions this politics creates.
And yet: this is exactly where my hope lies. We’ve met so many young people on this journey – in the U.S., in Latin America, in Asia, in Europe. Bright, brave, and empathetic. They think globally, act locally, dream collectively. They know there are no easy answers, and they don’t want to go back – they want to move forward. They’re often quieter, but far stronger than they’re given credit for.
And I’m certain: they will hold us accountable. Maybe not in court, but in conversations, in songs, in the way they look at us. And they would be right to do so. Because we made it hard for them. And still – they keep going.
How will these lines read in 4 years’ time when, at least as things stand today, there won’t be another term in office for Trump?
Here more impressions of our trip through America, a country with an abundance of everything so much beauty, so much kindness. Perhaps you just need to learn to see it again.
