It is unthinkable to have lived your whole life in some corner of the world; to have been born there, schooled there (except for the brief period when you transferred to some other village for 'further' studies), and then, at the moment of truth, to settle down with someone who also lived their whole life in the same corner of the world.
It is an impressive little village, to be sure. It holds, for instance, a staggering, varied collection of madmen. Its drunkards would win any watering contest they found themselves in, and by extension, any sport, which required them to trace their way back home half-blind and with uncooperative legs.