I have a great story to tell of love, marriage, divorce, Tourette’s Syndrome and cell phone covers but unfortunately, I am too tired to tell that story. Why? Because the 4 hours of sleep I got last night are not enough to fuel the sardonic wit necessary to tell that tale. So let me tell you another.
Let me tell you where I come from. I come from a city, with buildings, with concrete, with asphalt, with homeless, with cars, with taxis, with pollution.
Let me tell you where I live now. I live in a village with few homes within sight, a forest that surrounds the meadow that surrounds the stables that surrounds the Hof that surrounds our building. I live with birds and foxes and these small deer-like things munching dandelions in the meadows. I live with the scent of the land (horseshit) in the evening. I live with gravel roads and Hausfraus on bikes. I live with bugs, spiders, mosquitoes and horseflies.
Most of the time, happy in our loft with our urban décor and technology, I don’t even notice. But there is one time of the day that living where I do is so apparent, so obnoxiously disturbing, I long for my days of gunshots and gang members.
It is the morning between 4 am and 7 am.
Where I’m from, this is the quietest time of the day. Weekdays, only traders, those who support traders and the homeless are up at this time. On weekends, only those doing the walk/drive of shame are awake. Guilt by association and fear of being pulled over with our panties shoved into purses keep us from communicating with more than a nod of acknowledgement. Flora and fauna keep to themselves at this time of the day when you live in the city.
In a Southern German village, the day starts noisily at 4am. First, it’s the sunlight, breaking into my bedroom like a thief, stealing my cool dark sleep. Then the birds start with their morning choral rehearsal, echoing in through the valley. The small deer-like animals are in mating season right now. I hear their honking love songs all until I want to scratch my eyes out.
It might be nice on vacation, to hear these sounds of nature without a CD, but on a daily basis it is driving me mad.
If I thought it would do any good, I’d haul out a shotgun and let off a few rounds. All animals, man to beast, know the sound of a shotgun and silence usually follows.
If I wasn’t sure that our neighbors would gossip for years over the crazy American, I’d scream my frustration into the valley on the odd chance the damn birds would shut-up. I swear, it’s like we live in a rain forest.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love the aminals as much as anyone else. I just do not like them during those precious last hours of sleep. And since we don’t have A/C and this place is freakin’ hot, I have to keep the GD windows open. Open windows means bird calls and honking deer.
Markus: Get your wife a room a/c unit and stop the madness.