Last night I had a conversation with a friend who is a Louisiana expatriate currently living in the upper midwest. She's itching to move back as soon as she can, which she and her husband plan to do in a few years. She says what she misses most about her native region are the food, the festivals and her old friends.
I can certainly understand this. If I ever left, I can think of several food items off the top of my head that I'd send for, since they aren't available elsewhere. Foodstuffs like Zapp's chips and Evangeline Maid bread, for example (I've heard local troops in Iraq are also pining for these items). As for Mardi Gras and Festival International de Louisiane? I'd miss those too. And friends? Mais yeah, as they say in these parts. And, as if it needs to be said, the eternal masochism that is Saints football.
What wouldn't I miss? The politics, obviously. Louisiana has a well-deserved reputation as something of a corrupt state, a distinction that isn't limited to one party. And let's just say that Kat-Rita brought out both the best and worst traits in people. Nothing is so vivid as a person's true colors. I also wouldn't miss the humidity. Sweet Jeezus! If it were any stickier, Courtney Love would live here.
And that's what my friend and I got to talking about: no, not sticky Courtney (wiseass!), the grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side syndrome. She implied that I was just in need of new scenery, while I argued she was nostalgic for a place she couldn't wait to leave three years ago. But then I wondered, perhaps she really does fit in here? After all, we're quite different people. And she has certainly been around enough to make an informed decision about where she belongs.
There's a profound difference between someone who has been in a disparate region for several years, has traveled extensively and has decided that they are happiest at square one, and someone who has lived in one place their entire lives and is certain that nowhere else compares. There's a lot of the latter sentiment here in the south. And as you can probably imagine, it drives me nuts.
After all, seeing some ignorant redneck with 10 teeth walk out of Wal-Mart and climb into his souped-up-like-Bigfoot truck with a rebel flag and a sticker declaring that he's Southern "by the grace of God," really has an effect on the old self-esteem. If he's blessed, then God must really hate my ass. Bummer.
Even so, I would still wish more power to him for loving his hometown if I knew he came by that assessment honestly. But then I realize that, to him, anything north of Opelousas is Yankee territory. The same probably goes for the 18-year-old local girl who posts on myspace that she's "ready to settle down." As if getting drunk every night for a year constituted a cultural expansion! How can you settle down if you've never even gotten up?
Though in better times I once traveled through the American southwest, most of my travels have been through the Deep South. And with few exceptions, everything looks exactly the same to me. Highways, tourist traps, diners, Stuckey's, oil rigs, rusty cars, southern accents...this is my reality. But then I meet people from other corners of the nation (or world), and all of this freaks them out. And I have to wonder, what about this is so bizarre to them? Whatever the answer, it reminds me that this is just one area of many. Not the best, not the worst, but certainly not the ONLY.
"But Ian," you say, "It's like that everywhere." But is it really? I used to believe this, until I realized that most of the people telling me this hadn't been anywhere else themselves. Others really had been around and found they liked this place best; but at least those people understand my wanderlust, because they once had it themselves.
Mind you, there are some places I would exempt from this blanket condemnation. If someone says they'd want to live in New York City their whole lives, for example, no one can really accuse them of being sheltered. Likewise with New Orleanians, or any other cultural hubs here and throughout the world.
But ANYBODY who can claim to living in paradise on Earth, without ever having seen the rest of it, is actually proving the opposite point.
I can certainly understand this. If I ever left, I can think of several food items off the top of my head that I'd send for, since they aren't available elsewhere. Foodstuffs like Zapp's chips and Evangeline Maid bread, for example (I've heard local troops in Iraq are also pining for these items). As for Mardi Gras and Festival International de Louisiane? I'd miss those too. And friends? Mais yeah, as they say in these parts. And, as if it needs to be said, the eternal masochism that is Saints football.
What wouldn't I miss? The politics, obviously. Louisiana has a well-deserved reputation as something of a corrupt state, a distinction that isn't limited to one party. And let's just say that Kat-Rita brought out both the best and worst traits in people. Nothing is so vivid as a person's true colors. I also wouldn't miss the humidity. Sweet Jeezus! If it were any stickier, Courtney Love would live here.
And that's what my friend and I got to talking about: no, not sticky Courtney (wiseass!), the grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side syndrome. She implied that I was just in need of new scenery, while I argued she was nostalgic for a place she couldn't wait to leave three years ago. But then I wondered, perhaps she really does fit in here? After all, we're quite different people. And she has certainly been around enough to make an informed decision about where she belongs.
There's a profound difference between someone who has been in a disparate region for several years, has traveled extensively and has decided that they are happiest at square one, and someone who has lived in one place their entire lives and is certain that nowhere else compares. There's a lot of the latter sentiment here in the south. And as you can probably imagine, it drives me nuts.
After all, seeing some ignorant redneck with 10 teeth walk out of Wal-Mart and climb into his souped-up-like-Bigfoot truck with a rebel flag and a sticker declaring that he's Southern "by the grace of God," really has an effect on the old self-esteem. If he's blessed, then God must really hate my ass. Bummer.
Even so, I would still wish more power to him for loving his hometown if I knew he came by that assessment honestly. But then I realize that, to him, anything north of Opelousas is Yankee territory. The same probably goes for the 18-year-old local girl who posts on myspace that she's "ready to settle down." As if getting drunk every night for a year constituted a cultural expansion! How can you settle down if you've never even gotten up?
Though in better times I once traveled through the American southwest, most of my travels have been through the Deep South. And with few exceptions, everything looks exactly the same to me. Highways, tourist traps, diners, Stuckey's, oil rigs, rusty cars, southern accents...this is my reality. But then I meet people from other corners of the nation (or world), and all of this freaks them out. And I have to wonder, what about this is so bizarre to them? Whatever the answer, it reminds me that this is just one area of many. Not the best, not the worst, but certainly not the ONLY.
"But Ian," you say, "It's like that everywhere." But is it really? I used to believe this, until I realized that most of the people telling me this hadn't been anywhere else themselves. Others really had been around and found they liked this place best; but at least those people understand my wanderlust, because they once had it themselves.
Mind you, there are some places I would exempt from this blanket condemnation. If someone says they'd want to live in New York City their whole lives, for example, no one can really accuse them of being sheltered. Likewise with New Orleanians, or any other cultural hubs here and throughout the world.
But ANYBODY who can claim to living in paradise on Earth, without ever having seen the rest of it, is actually proving the opposite point.











