When in grad school, we would occasionally hear a particular kind of East Coaster- you know the kind - complain about job offers in such hinterlands as Chicago, or Minneapolis, or Houston. You know, those barren wastelands, tumbleweeds rolling across the landscape, no Macy's as far as the eye can see. "They don't have real bagels!" they would say. "Do they even have a symphony? Or a theater? I mean, really, it's all flyover country."
(I exaggerate for effect, but I did really hear heard people say all these things.)
Well, I'm about to move to a small town in the mountains (population 7,000, and I think that might include the students; two miles across). The nearest medium-sized town (my old friend's home town; I have probably been there a hundred times and have a very good idea of its amenities) has a population of 24,000 and is 40 minutes away. The next-nearest city-like objects are over an hour away.
Woe is me.
(It's in the middle of the mountains, next to a beautiful river and several state parks. WOE!!)
I grew up in a pretty rural area - the nearest grocery was a 15-minute drive down the main road - so I have a pretty good idea of what I'm saying when I wonder if one can get good sushi there. Except I'm not actually concerned about sushi. Is there an allergist in town? (Ha ha ha ha no.) In the next town? (Ha ha ha our crap insurance won't cover it.) Will I have to drive an hour each way? (Yes.) Is there even an ethnic grocery in any of these places? (No.) That doesn't cost an arm and a leg? (Really no.) Where will I find kosher meat? (Ha ha ha. I could start a kosher meat shop! Not really.) Am I going to have to bring a cooler every time I go to Richmond? (Yes.)
Anyhow, just imagine what you'd worry about if you were moving somewhere 1/50 the size of where you are now, and that's how I feel.