Happiness is a village

I grew up in a village, that's what they call it there. Also on an island that is only accessible via a bridge, but we'll talk about that later. Among the high school students, I cycled hundreds of kilometers between the villages to get some educational good into my brain (and how fit I was, phew), only to then head back to the city like the wind. Amsterdam it became. I lived downtown East, a bit of Dappermarkt, and then sought shelter in Rotterdam. They also call that a defector here in twenty-zero, but I just thought of it as living on the edge. After a few years in the port city, I cycled a few more kilometers south to stay in a small Brabant town, but with a law degree and a big ego. And now, suddenly, I live in a village.

Everyone thinks I'm crazy for preferring the village over the city, but it gives me just those square centimeters of peace in my head after a day with your editors. I'm crazy about them, but the decibels they produce together. I love zooming home over my little bridge after that hustle and bustle. When I open the garden door at home, I hear birds, the puttering of a little boat on the Vecht, and the music from my neighbor (who thank god is above average good). No whooshing from the highway, no arguing from my upstairs-downstairs neighbors, the smell of the local shawarma vendor, in my village I never end up with my bike tire between the tram tracks (I'm not much of a cyclist either) and that half month's salary stays nicely in my pocket instead of on the parking lot in front of the door. By the way, I'm just as quick to get to the editorial office as the average city dweller with a bike among my colleagues. Ha, I find it a pleasure.

I already told you earlier why it's okay to not live in the city but I like to elaborate on things and now I can also scientifically substantiate it. And if I can elaborate with a professor on hand to argue it, I'm a happy person. Speaking of happiness, that's what it's about. Research shows that Dutch people living in a village are happier. Well, that fits particularly well with my living situation. Really, as if I'm doing it on purpose. Which is also true. But eighty-seven percent of your fellow countrymen feel more or less happy. Look, I find that an extremely satisfying score. The top ten happiest places in our country are populated by villagers, says the Atlas for municipalities. Like me. This is because village folk are usually provided with work, good health, and benefit from a safe living environment with, what did I tell you, peace and space.

Now I prefer not to live in a village where I have to say hello to everyone, by the way. With too many familiar faces, I prefer to hide among the vegetables in the supermarket shelf. But I do find it somewhat cozy to chat with the middle-aged butcher between ordering the round steak and roast beef (no vegetarians here). Or that they greet you with recognition after you've been to the bakery three times and already grab your half loaf of spelt, also quite village-like. Just like I can endlessly philosophize about the profession of my neighbors across the street, but not that I really want to know what they get up to between nine and five. I'm a quiet, happy villager. Let's just leave it at that. Although it would suit me particularly well if the number of drinking establishments increases and they also add a Zara to the shopping options. Further completely satisfied here.