Thank God I'm a Country Man

You only have to sing "Country Roads," and people will immediately follow up with "Take Me Home." It isn’t just here in West Virginia—where it has been an official state song since 2014—but even in the Netherlands, people will happily join in. When I first mentioned I was moving to the Mountain State, almost everyone back home started with that line.

There is a weird bit of trivia about that song, though. Most of the landmarks mentioned, like the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Shenandoah River, are actually in Virginia and barely touch West Virginia. Furthermore, John Denver had never even set foot in this state when he wrote it. Still, it captures the "West Virginia vibe" so perfectly that the people here simply embraced it as their own.

That song is the gateway to the soul of this place: Country music.

Everything here oozes Country—the music, the clothing, the food. If you go to a free festival in town, you’ll find local singers performing songs written about every topic imaginable. Whether it’s about a wife, a "papaw," the girl next door, a dead dog, or a pickup truck, there’s a song for it. Turn on the radio and over 25% of the stations will tell you that Country is the only thing worth listening to.

To my Dutch friends: Country is basically het Levenslied. Think of André Hazes. It’s music about the struggles and joys of everyday life, and just like Hazes in a Dutch pub, you can’t escape it here.

But the music leads to a specific phenomenon: the line dance. Back in the Netherlands, people would ask me, "You’re not going to do that line dance thing, are you?" I would always laugh and say, "Probably not, it looks weird."

And yet, here I am. I’ve actually attended a few classes, and I am still remarkably bad at it.

The truth is, it’s incredibly fun and relaxing. Everyone does it—young, old, experts, and total beginners. In the Netherlands, the image of line dancing is often of a rigid, perfectly choreographed group where everyone looks like a professional. That image is wrong. In reality, people are just having a blast. There is no social awkwardness. Whether you are the next Fred Astaire or—like me—clumsily stomping around in size 13 shoes, no one cares. You can mess up the steps enormously, skip a beat to catch up, and still be part of the flow.

Once you get the feel for the lines, there’s the barn dance. Everyone gets in a circle and off you go. It’s quick, hilarious, and filled with smiles. My most recent stop was "West Coast Swing," which is also very popular here. It’s more of a couples dance, though you switch partners constantly.

Being 6'6" adds its own comedy to the dance floor. Nearly every woman I dance with starts by looking way up and saying, "Darn, you’re a tall one!" All in all, it’s a great way to engage with the community. And honestly? There’s no better way to get to know your new neighbors than while you’re both trying to catch your breath after a particularly fast song.