Connecticut -- Compromise, It's What's for Lunch

This donkey is very Connecticut — New England stubborn with New York pizzazz as evidenced by Flashdance-style neon leg warmers.

Qui Transtulit Sustinet, (He Who Transplanted Still Sustains) seems a bit dated to be the motto for what I’ve seen of Connecticut. I’d like to recommend a new one – Compromise, It’s What’s for Lunch.  I think it speaks very nicely to the fine line Connecticut walks as a buffer between two image superpowers -- New York and New England.  In fact, I think, like the Nutmeg State itself, it offers a reasonable place to land between New York’s ‘FUHGEDDABOUDIT!’ and New England’s ‘Yah cannah get theyah from heyah.”  

Let me explain.  While I think most Connecticuters would say they are from New England, to me, Connecticut feels every bit as New-York-ish as it does New-England-ish.  Now, I have Connecticut born and raised friends who will take offense at this statement.  My Mom is the much the same when I tell her that she can say what she likes about the history of the Austro-Hungarian Empire; today, Hungary seems to fit as comfortably in the Eastern European quadrant with the Czech Republic and Poland as it does with Germany and Austria.

But, back to Connecticut.  Let’s create a New York vs. New England balance sheet and see which side gets to claim it.

Traffic:  Our travels in New England occurred largely on country roads or lightly used highways.  Perhaps, a week-plus of driving in those Northern environs had softened my innate predatory driving skills, but I nearly soiled my knickers driving through Hartford.  Cars were suddenly bobbing and weaving all around us and there were tunnels, overpasses and interchanges with scant notice and serious consequences for bad choices.  I think we can agree to put traffic in the New York column.

Cityscape:  Though Hartford had a fair share of tall buildings, there weren’t enough to offset the distinctly New England feel of Waterbury which has more steeples than you can count.  The churchiness of Connecticut’s towns and cities puts a check squarely in the New England column.

Rocks:  New England is awash with glacial rubble. The rocks of New England come in all shapes and sizes from the profile of the Old Man on every New Hampshire state road sign to the little granite cannonballs that litter every pasture.  New York may have rocky spots, but rocks don’t define it.  Connecticut seems pretty rocky; another tick for New England.

Cuisine:  We had many a fine meal in New England, but choices were somewhat limited – there’s Dunkin Donuts, lobster, and dairy treats.  Though New England BBQ was a revelation, even that grew a little tiresome.  Meanwhile, our first and only meal in Connecticut– excellent Turkish fare; a win for New York. 

I could continue but I think I’d keep getting the same result, and I think instead I should offer a final observation -- Connecticut really tries to make compromises work.   An excellent example is the trail we rode from the rough little farm in Oxford where we kept our horses for their one night in Connecticut.  As the suburbs filled in among the farms in this area, riders found their options limited.  When a gas line passing through the area needed upgrades, Connecticut worked a deal with the gas company – the State would share in the cost if the gas company agreed to cover the line with a sandy biking, hiking, and riding path.  It is now one of Connecticut’s largest state parks running for over 10 miles.  Riding that path, if I ignored the very New-York-ish traffic noise, I could almost believe I was  on a carriage road somewhere in the wilds of Acadia.