In the villa district above Molehill Hills - or which little house would you like?

Just emigrating for a while. Would that be something?

However, I must confess first - I'm really not a fan of television. Indoor, that is.

After all, you can find television everywhere outside. Environmentally friendly, free of charge and with a 3D effect from a breeze on your neck and the sweet scent of deer hide on top.

But recently, there was the documentary, I tell you. Our next adventure was predetermined.

We are going to discover lofty heights à la Beverly Hills. Well, we don't necessarily need celebrities, says Ms. Kati. But the buildings, the view, and the distinctiveness of our usual paths through the underbrush are also worth a visit.

So off to the glamour of the rich people.

Our path leads us first past a rather inconspicuous lonely estate. Judging by the dreadful barking of dogs, it must be a place of horror.

Well, this is a great start. I hold my nose and leave a warning level one for the following tourists in the form of scent marking alarm.

But the path winds out of the valley and we get a hint of exclusivity. In view, location, and architecture.

However, it’s the same misery of every city at first.

Opposites stand side by side.

Where the glitter soon tries to dazzle us, we first pass the ghettos. Welcome to Molehill Hills.

Buildings are stacked closely together, colorless and bleak.

While I wonder how the residents find their way to their own beds, Ms. Kati suddenly spots the first villa.

We breathe in the fresh air up here and I allow myself a little break while Ms. Kati scratches off the Molehill Hills remains from her shoe's profile.

Well, clay is probably the wealth of the rich and beautiful. Because it abounds here.

Which icon must reside in the impressive villa in front of us? Wealthy, original in design, and definitely connected to nature. That’s how I would estimate the owner.

Definitely a film producer for the series: dreamlike places of the wilderness.

Our gaze wanders into the distance, lingering dreamily in a lovely landscape.

Characterized by Tuscan flair and surrounded by gentle hills, we soon discover the impressive mansion as well.

Surely a wine estate dynasty with centuries-old vines.

We find two of them by a blessed coincidence at the roadside. Surely they wanted to emigrate. Freed from oppression, for independence and against the torture of innocent vine stocks.

We continue to discover artistic border areas, marked by nature-friendly barbed wire that winds like a grid over the hills.

It’s time to stroll down, as there are still more attractions to discover below the hills.

An architecturally thoughtful room divider in the form of a stream-like canal leads us past villas and weekend estates to the sea of the great view.

Most likely looking up at the Molehill Hills from below.

An elderly chatty resident openly tells us that many up there have a private secret passage down here, which allows them to escape unnoticed.

Tax authorities goodbye! Or perhaps fleeing from pushy fans?

We only suspect, as the guard posts resting at the edge of the town during lunchtime hint at what Ms. Kati has always known.

The celebrity life is no bed of roses. We’d rather stay as we are, free and polite, thankful and amazed. And above all - we are just simple. Without thick masks and beautiful appearances.

As if the nature spirits completely agree with us. Suddenly, a glowing creature dances a joyful dance just for us on the opposite meadow, which serves as a landing area for private guests.

We then discover a little house that touches our Franconian hearts.

If that isn't a wink from fate, then nothing is, for it is indeed quite similar to home.

While I still inhale the last scent trail of the earthy mole flag, Ms. Kati suggests that we could emigrate daily.

However, returning to where one feels at home is the essence of a well-rounded life.

Yes, I agree, for no couch could be better than ours. For that, I am grateful.

Until the next adventure,

Your Gretl