Of Unterlanders and other scum

I am the Oberhostatt's Heiris Klausen Michi. This is my tribe. My grandfather was Heiri, my father is Klaus, I am Michi and we all have shitted our pants on the Oberhostatt. I left the territory of my fathers, went wandering before I settled down in Graubünden, where I am now an Unterlander, a stranger. Driven by curiosity, I have explored every corner with my bike and skis and know the stones better than some locals. From the Undead of Grappa Naira to the Devil of Tinizong, I know all their stories and yet I will never be one of them. The city-countryside divide still exists in people's minds, even though Switzerland has turned into one big city with lots of green space in between. Here in the mountain villages, where the mountains block the view into the distance, this narrowness exists in some mountain dweller's minds. From a distance, they once came as Germans, Rhaetians, Walsers and Italians. They themselves were once foreign scum. Now they call themselves locals, aborigines, locals or original inhabitants, who have certain privileges. My privilege as a second home inhabitant is the freedom of a fool. Fortunately, my grandfather was not from Graubünden and did not allegedly steal a chicken from any other grandfather. I am free from swelling family feuds and I take the right to clean the tripe from one or another Graubündener as cheeky and bold as my grandmother once was. Of course, I take the risk of ending up tarred and feathered on the village square on the pillory one day. But thank God the assholes of this world are evenly distributed and so there are also people here who don't care about my ancestry and value my character more. I am the Oberhostatt's Heiris Klausen Michi and our ancestors murdered Habsburgs and fought as mercenaries on the battlefields of Europe. As a restless vagabond, I feel at home where there are mountains, snow and my Annina.