The quaint little village I reside in lies in a valley surrounded by beautiful vineyards in the Black Forest. It is a beautiful, quiet, calm farmer’s settlement. Along with the sporadic appearance of a muddy tractor driving by, you’ll see the occasional herd of sheep or cows casually strolling down the main street. There is no restaurant, shop, seat of government, or gym here, which is why it’s a village, not a town. A town usually has all of those things. Also, a town has a more diverse population than a village, and given that the average age of this village is about 60 years and 95% of the residents are straight up white Germans, there isn’t much room for diversity.
The nearest larger town lies in another valley about 3 kilometers away (that’s about 2 miles for all of you imperialists), so unless you love hiking up and down a hill for half an hour to buy your groceries like some kind of peasant, having a car is a necessity.
As you can probably imagine, the nightlife in this village is off the hook. As in, someone removed it from the hook so it’s not there. Well, actually, that’s not entirely true. The night life is just a little different here. It’s more nature oriented than let’s-get-drunk-and-yolo-hard oriented. It’s already pretty quiet during the day, but at night you can literally hear the silence. In fact, it gets pretty eerie because the fog rolls down the hills and just sits in this valley all night. You’ll also hear the occasional hoot of an owl and the comforting snarl of the local werewolf at full moon.
The thing that gets me about living here, though, is that there is absolutely nothing to do other than planting and harvesting fruits and veggies. You can’t even just go and eat something when you’re bored. For example, if you live in a big city and you’re craving Italian food at 2 AM, you can just walk down to Mario’s 24/7 Pizza Pasta Place and there-a you go. If I’m craving Italian food at 2 AM, I have to walk downstairs to the kitchen and make my own pasta sauce with fresh, organic, locally grown tomatoes with no pesticides or chemical additives, which, in retrospect, isn’t actually too bad at all.
But seriously, if I didn’t have an Internet connection, I might as well become Amish. I can literally count sheep in order to go to sleep. And there are cats everywhere. They like to climb on top of my car with their muddy paws and go into my garden to take a shit. Chasing cats off my property consumes most of my time.
So what about the village people? Well, everybody knows everybody, but nobody talks to or even likes each other because they’re all afraid of having their reputation ruined.
“Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent, and discerning if they hold their tongues.”
– Proverbs 17:28
Nevertheless there’s a lot of village gossip that goes around. For example, there is this unspoken rule here that you shouldn’t work or make loud noises between 12 and 2 PM because the old folks want to have their afternoon nap. However, I once mowed my lawn at 1:50 PM, and because Germans are strictly punctual beings, I am now known as “that Indian dude who can’t keep track of time.”
Almost everyone in this village has lived here for multiple generations. My family moved here when I was born back in 1992. So even though I was born here and lived here for the majority of my life, we’re still “the new guys.” But that’s alright because I can always get away with the excuse, “sorry, I didn’t know that I’m not allowed to bathe in the village fountain; I’m new here.”
So even though this village is extremely boring, it would make for the perfect place to hide out during a zombie apocalypse. It’s very secluded and hard to reach by foot, we grow our own organic food and make excellent wine, we get fresh, clean water from the source up the mountain, our houses are basically renovated and refurbished barn fortresses built by German engineers, every resident has a pitchfork, and we even have an army of cows to protect us just in case. I’m actually getting pretty pumped about the apocalypse now.