Monday, March 06, 2006
The Biggest Little State in the Union
I was either in Lake Placid or Montreal the first time I realized Rhode Island didn't make it onto many people's mental maps. Either way, there were Canadians involved and it was in an ice rink. My sister was doing her precision skating thing and I was trading pins with the teams that had come, because that's how everyone spends their childhoods, damn it. Anyway, I walk up to a group of Canadians and we start exchanging pins. They look at the one I've given them and then one of them says, "Rhode Island? Is that in New York?"
Turns out, yes, yes it is.
In the four months we've been here, I've gotten quite used to people not knowing what the hell I'm talking about when I answer the question "What part of the US are you from?" I've become accustomed to saying "It's south of Boston." I've even gotten used to saying "It's between Boston and New York," which, aside from being a geographical fib of sorts, seems to settle the issue nine times out of ten. The biggest exception came this past Friday, when E and I went to Kochkor with Kubat (the Kyrgyz archaeologist working on Erin's project with her) and one of his colleagues from the Turkish Manas University here in Bishkek, Anil, a Turkish archaeologist (pictures here). At some point early in the day, Anil asked where we were from and we went through the list--Indiana, Ohio, Rhode Island, met in school in New York....
- Wait, did you say Rhode Island?
- Um, yeah, Rhode Island. It is where I grew up.
- What is this Rhode Island? What state is that in?
- Rhode Island is a state. It's between Massachusetts and Connecticut, in the northeastern part of the country.
- It is part of Massachusetts?
- No, it is a state near Massachusetts, to the south.
- I don't know where this is.
- Near New York.
- Ah, New York.
Later in the day, while Erin was battling a friend of Kubat's in a Kyrgyz game called Nine Stone (with perhaps only slightly more pride than warranted, I assure you she kicked his ass), we went through the role call again. The friend, the head of a school in Kochkor, asked Anil if I was Turkish too (apparently I'm not nearly as pale as I used to be; no more getting called the Galloping Ghost, thank you very much). Anil told him no, Dan is American, from New York. The man looked at me and nodded in recognition.
So, turns out I'm a New Yorker. By birth. The accent's a little off, but I guess I could work on it.
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When I lived in Scotland, I had to say I was from Chicago. And when I lived in New Hampshire, I had to explain that there were actually several states that started with "I," and that they were all different, and that I was from the worst one.
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