Eike Becker was at the MIPIM in Cannes for us, the world’s most important trade fair for commercial real estate. It is an important barometer for the mood on the real estate markets.
The atmosphere on the plane is upbeat, like on a school trip. Most of us have known each other from these trips for years. After landing, the driver takes us to Cannes. Past palm trees and sailing boats, the warm afternoon sun reflects off the glittering waves of the Mediterranean. A small dark dot can be seen on the horizon. A helicopter flight directly from Nice Airport to Mipim in Cannes. Flight time: 7 minutes, €510 for three people.
The hotel is centrally located, rocked up, plush curtains in the tiny, dusky pink room simulate high class. The bathroom smells of mold. Until a few years ago, I used to rent vacation apartments. The apartments got more expensive and poorer from year to year, until I fell for a scammer and ended up on the street despite having paid a deposit. Not an isolated case. Cannes is not a place for mimosas or soft-spoken summer vacationers. Here, people take decisive action. No one worries about guests staying away.
The German pavilion is packed at the opening. Reiner Nagel, Chairman of the Federal Foundation of Baukultur, speaks eloquently and proudly about the Baukultur Report 2014/15 – and rightly so. The German ambassador is represented. Jürgen Meyer H, Sauerbruch Hutton, Michael Schumacher, Rainer Schmidt, Lava, Jan Kleihues, Auer and Weber, Eller and Eller are also on board. It’s off on a big trip: 22,000 visitors and 5500 companies from over 90 countries are offering themselves as potential business partners. That should be enough for everyone. An architect doesn’t even need 50 clients in his life.
Several appointments later, I shower off the sweaty day at the hotel and talk to my family on the phone. Everyone thinks I’m on vacation.
Then I take the bus from the harbor to a restaurant on the beach. The hosts are charming and delight their guests with an extremely short speech. The expansion abroad seems to have been a success. There is already a table with new customers from England, France, Italy and Spain. My neighbor at the table impresses with his own theory of evolution: the line of development in the real estate industry goes like this: Architect, broker, project developer and the investor as the crown of creation. In response to my comment that everyone has to work together intensively in order to be successful, he replies: “I don’t need a couch or a therapist here!” Like me, his colleague is amazed at his self-confidence.
Yes, the industry is not lacking in confidence in these boom times. Some people are reminded of 2007, when boundless euphoria was followed by a crash. Experience advises caution, but no one can give concrete arguments for an imminent turnaround.
My hotel room is still painted dusky pink. When my neighbors come home, I’m afraid they’ll unlock my door and stand right in front of my bed. No soundproofing standards far and wide.
The next day I have 15 appointments and a round of talks. I’ll be hoarse tomorrow.
Thursday is German Hour at the German stand. Dr. Elisabeth Merck, city planning officer in Munich, talks about her battle with the charming men in the dark suits who usually pay a lot for the plots of land, want more building rights very quickly, but even before the building permit is granted, new men in dark suits are sitting in front of her who have paid even more for the same plot of land and want even more building rights.
I don’t like this miraculous way of increasing money either. With every intermediate deal, there is less left for the architecture.
After dinner, we go on a boat with a saxophone player. There I find out that the client with whom I signed the architectural contract for the competition we won the day before the Mipim has as good as sold the plot with our plans still to be drawn up. The buyer is already negotiating with a new buyer for the completed building.
This Hans im Glück story or the biotonic drink is already making my head spin. When the music on the neighboring boat begins to drown out the saxophone player, I leave the swaying ship.
