When most people hear the word provincial, they probably think of the Provence region in France which is known for great food, beautiful scenery and a haven for artists. Others might think of the provinces in Canada, a nation known for its warm and welcoming attitude. Now, use the word provincial in reference to the metropolitan area in which I live. Great food? Not unless you vote chain restaurants to the top spots in every “Best of ….” poll.
Beautiful scenery? Sure, the river running through the middle of downtown is scenic …. from a distance. Get closer and you’ll see it’s a mud-colored body of water separating two dilapidated cities that one only need stray a few blocks into to get mugged or shanked.
Arts? At one time, the region was known as “Paris of America”. Today, it is home to probably the largest bedbug outbreak in the nation due in part to its aging rental market. In fact, there are entire neighborhoods (Norwood being one) with no new construction since the ‘70s.
Warm and welcoming attitude? Unless you grew up there and can trace your education back to a local high school, you’re an outsider and likely to remain so until either you die or move.
Just in case you’re curious what city I’m talking about, let’s just call it the Queen City. OK, that is enough of a hint for anyone to Google it and figure that we’re talking about Cincinnati, OH. It’s a Midwest oddity. I understand civic pride just as well as anyone, but a provincial attitude is just not what you’d expect in a big city.
It's a city in conflict with itself if no one else is available. It’s West side vs. East side in Cincinnati. It’s Skyline vs. Gold Star. It’s Classic Rock vs. …… well, all they listen to is classic rock. It’s a city that is perpetually behind the times and behind social attitudes toward anything even slightly progressive. It’s a city in search of an identity because it truly does not have one. It is Cincinnati.
No comments:
Post a Comment