Previous to this trip, I've only been as far south as Nashville (Orlando doesn't count because it's basically its own country of theme parks and ridiculously expensive water), so I've never really felt like I could say I'd been to The South. Now that I've spent some time there, I can honestly say I am a Yankee through and through.
The reasons I was never so aware of what a Northerner I am until I went to the South are as follows:
1.) My level of patience
I like to think of myself as a patient person, but much of my time south of the Mason-Dixon line was spent racing through historic sites with a level of urgency that first bemused, and then annoyed the people who worked there. What's the hurry? Stay a while! was the unspoken remark in their patient smiles. Meanwhile, I was taking notes with the speed of a crazed stenographer at a horse auction.
2.) My hatred of sweet tea
While in Tennessee getting a sandwich for lunch, I ordered a large iced tea, hoping it would cool me off after spending the morning in the already sweltering heat. I took one sip and almost spit it out since it was probably three-quarters sugar. From that moment on I was careful to make sure I was getting "unsweet tea" (which is a way more charming term than unsweetened iced tea). To be fair, all the unsweet tea I had was delicious, but the fear of accidentally drinking sweet tea was always there.
3.) My lack of knowledge of obscure Confederate figures
My Civil War history focused mainly on what factors contributed to eventual Union victory, with a massive emphasis on Gettysburg since I grew up in Pennsylvania. But daring Confederate blockade runners? Not so much.
4.) My undiscerning barbeque palate
It all tasted awesome. I don't know how anyone can rank barbeque since literally all of it tasted amazing to me.
5.) My accent
Although my accent immediately marked me as a Yankee, I was mostly just happy it survived. I have an unfortunate habit of picking up accents wherever I go. To make matters worse, I can't actually do accents all that well so I sound like I'm mocking people when in fact I'm suppressing the urge to forget the way I've spoken for the past twenty years of my life because I'd really love to say "y'all" in a way that sounds natural.
6.) My inability to cope with the heat
As a descendant of exclusively pale people, I've never fared very well in the sun. I don't tan so much as go through a burn, peel, fade cycle. Naturally, I knew the South would be hot. I knew it would be humid. What I didn't know was that walking outside would feel like entering the Amazon River basin and would cause every pore in my body to sweat like there was no tomorrow.
The reasons I was never so aware of what a Northerner I am until I went to the South are as follows:
1.) My level of patience
I like to think of myself as a patient person, but much of my time south of the Mason-Dixon line was spent racing through historic sites with a level of urgency that first bemused, and then annoyed the people who worked there. What's the hurry? Stay a while! was the unspoken remark in their patient smiles. Meanwhile, I was taking notes with the speed of a crazed stenographer at a horse auction.
2.) My hatred of sweet tea
While in Tennessee getting a sandwich for lunch, I ordered a large iced tea, hoping it would cool me off after spending the morning in the already sweltering heat. I took one sip and almost spit it out since it was probably three-quarters sugar. From that moment on I was careful to make sure I was getting "unsweet tea" (which is a way more charming term than unsweetened iced tea). To be fair, all the unsweet tea I had was delicious, but the fear of accidentally drinking sweet tea was always there.
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| Union Uniform at Berkeley Plantation |
3.) My lack of knowledge of obscure Confederate figures
My Civil War history focused mainly on what factors contributed to eventual Union victory, with a massive emphasis on Gettysburg since I grew up in Pennsylvania. But daring Confederate blockade runners? Not so much.
 |
| Barbeque joint in Warm Springs, Georgia |
It all tasted awesome. I don't know how anyone can rank barbeque since literally all of it tasted amazing to me.
5.) My accent
Although my accent immediately marked me as a Yankee, I was mostly just happy it survived. I have an unfortunate habit of picking up accents wherever I go. To make matters worse, I can't actually do accents all that well so I sound like I'm mocking people when in fact I'm suppressing the urge to forget the way I've spoken for the past twenty years of my life because I'd really love to say "y'all" in a way that sounds natural.
6.) My inability to cope with the heat
As a descendant of exclusively pale people, I've never fared very well in the sun. I don't tan so much as go through a burn, peel, fade cycle. Naturally, I knew the South would be hot. I knew it would be humid. What I didn't know was that walking outside would feel like entering the Amazon River basin and would cause every pore in my body to sweat like there was no tomorrow.
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