Having grown up in Appalachia, squarely in “the South,” I didn’t think moving to Texas for the summer would be much of a culture shock. Both parts of the country are known for their stubborn pride, strong communities, and buttery food, after all. But once I got settled in, I realized Texas is different from what I’m used to. It’s bigger, louder, and full of surprises! Here’s what I learned after trading mountains for sandhills, and some important things to know before moving to Texas yourself.
Table of Contents
1. Dry Heat
In Appalachia, summers are muggy—the kind of thick, humid air that clings to your skin. It’s dry. It’s relentless. It really sneaks up on you. In the mountains, you sweat and feel it—your clothes stick, you feel disgusting.
Texas heat is a whole different beast. When you’re living in Texas, you often don’t feel it. You’re sweating, but it evaporates fast enough that you don’t realize how much fluid you’re losing. When highs can sit in the 100s for a week or longer, that’s dangerous, especially if you’re an outdoorsy type. And, coming from Appalachia, where there’s nothing to do but hike, I certainly am!
Sunscreen became non-negotiable, and I learned quickly to do my errands early in the morning before the asphalt started shimmering, carrying my water bottle with me everywhere I went. One of the main things to know before moving to Texas is how dangerous that heat really is.
2. The Drawl Versus The Twang
Appalachian accents have a distinct southern charm that’s often described as a “twang.” They’re a bit more dynamic, musical, rising and falling. The Texas drawl is slower, smoother, and more confident. Everyone I spoke to could tell I was southern, but they could also tell I was not Texan. Both accents are warm and welcoming, but it’s a different kind of warmth. Appalachian accents are the language of valleys and close communities, where everyone knows your mama and your business, whereas the Texan drawl has a certain swagger to it. You’re filling up the space, and you’re in no hurry.
3. No Sweet Tea
In rural Appalachia and throughout the Deep South, asking for sweet tea is a given. It’s the default. Every diner, gas station, and grandma’s kitchen has a pitcher chilling in the fridge. So imagine my surprise when I ordered “tea” in Texas and got hit with, “What kind?” I had never been asked that back home, and it took me a minute to register.
For all my friends living in Texas, Dr. Pepper and Topo Chico were the drinks of choice, but I never quite got on board. Eventually, I started brewing my own sweet tea, the way my family did—steeping strong black tea and pouring it hot over sugar until it turned syrupy.
4. Everything is So, So Flat
When you’re in the mountains, everything feels more enclosed. The woods around you, rolling hills holding the sky back, twisting and winding roads. When I first started living in Texas, the openness felt strange, like the sky was too big at night. There was a feeling of vulnerability to it that I wasn’t used to, but over time, I grew to appreciate it. I could watch the storms rolling in, see the sun slowly crawl down the horizon. There’s room to breathe, to think, to drive until you can’t anymore. It changes your sense of direction and your sense of self. Now, back home, I can’t help but feel claustrophobic!
The mountains have a way of cradling you, but when it’s flat and empty, you’re forced to stand taller.
5. It’s Much Less Green
In the mountains, your yard more or less takes care of itself. Rain falls frequently, rivers run freely, and all you need to do is mow enough that the grass doesn’t swallow up your house. Living in Texas, on the other hand, is a whole different story. The land is beautiful, yes, but it’s drier, dustier, and the greenery you see rarely survives without a helping hand. Genuinely, my summer in Texas was the first time I ever saw someone watering their lawn.
They take it seriously, too! Timed sprinklers, strategic hosing. The neighborhood I was in had strict limits on when and how much you could water. Instead of dense grassy hills and mossy hollers, you see scrubland, mesquite, cacti, and dingy yellow grasses that can withstand the dry heat. Trees are planted with care, and flowers thrive only in cultivated patches.
6. Everything is Bigger in Texas
Back home, the servings were pretty generous, but Texas takes the cake, hands down. At restaurants, a single plate can easily feed two people, and appetizers and side dishes are practically a second meal. And don’t get me started on the fountain drinks—they’re enormous compared to what I grew up with.
It’s not just restaurant food, either. Gas stations sell larger snacks, grocery stores stock giant packages of everything, and even store-bought tortillas come in “family” sizes by default. The culture is, in a way, celebratory: bigger is better, more is welcome, and the table is never too full to add one more plate.
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7. Longer Drives
Moving to Texas, I quickly realized that the concept of “just down the road” is very different than what I grew up with. In rural towns back home, you would typically drive 15-20 minutes to the nearest city and get your errands done there. Longer trips were for special occasions, like holiday shopping, visiting family, or concerts out of town.
In Texas, running errands, visiting friends, or even grabbing groceries can easily turn into a 30–45 minute drive, sometimes longer if you’re in a smaller town, and it’s the norm. No one complains about a long drive, unless the traffic’s bad. You start measuring distances in minutes instead of miles, and you get used to filling your car with snacks, lots of water, and music for every trip.
8. Pests
I thought I knew bugs. I keep tarantulas. I’d grown up dodging mosquitoes. Had a nasty roach infestation in my old apartment. We get swaths of stinkbugs in the fall—but nothing prepared me for Texas. One of my first days settling in, I got a knock from a door-to-door pest control service handing out flyers, something I’d never experienced before, but that my friends assured me was routine. I should’ve taken that as an omen.
My first month moving in, ants moved in with me, and no amount of deep-cleaning seemed to scare them off. We’d find them on the counter, scoping out every crumb, every soda can, anything that got thrown away. Eventually, we had to call the pest control service, after all, and they showed up the same day. I still spent the rest of my time there paranoid. After dealing with a really persistent pest infestation, you see creepy-crawlies skittering across your peripherals forever.
9. Different Flavor of Southern Hospitality
In Texas, people are friendly, but in a louder, more extroverted way that feels much less personal. You get the loud “howdys” you’d expect. People are warm, and they’ll help you if you’re pulled over on the side of the road, but they’re more inclined to mind their own business. In Appalachia, there’s not much to do, and everyone’s starved for social interaction, so everybody’s in everybody’s business, and you can expect to have a long conversation with a stranger standing next to you in line at the grocery store like you’ve known them your entire life.
Something to know before moving to Texas, or anywhere in the South, is people being loud and friendly doesn’t necessarily mean making friends is easy. A lot of it is surface-level.
10. Diversity of Cuisine
Fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, butter beans—I’m used to the standard Southern fare. They’ve got those delicacies in Texas, too, but it’s barely scratching the surface. Tex-Mex dominates, of course, but I’d severely underestimated the popularity of barbecue, namely smoked brisket or saucy ribs. Across Texas, there are German-inspired kolaches, Czech pastries, Vietnamese pho, Indian curries, and fresh Gulf seafood, all mingling alongside traditional Southern dishes. Every city and even some small towns have pockets of immigrant communities that bring their own flavors and techniques. Back home, I struggled to even find a Japanese restaurant within driving distance, so it was a nice experience to develop my palette and try some bold new flavors I’d never tried before. I’ve learned to really love hot, spicy food and bold combinations I got to experience while living in Texas, and there are so many wonderful dishes I’ve missed since leaving.
Conclusion
Moving from Appalachia to Texas has been full of surprises, from the dry heat and long drives to the sprawling landscapes and larger-than-life portions. I really didn’t expect the differences to be so noticeable, or so eye-opening, but each one has taught me something about adapting, noticing details, and embracing a new way of life. For anyone considering the move, I’d say this: expect the unexpected, stay curious, and let yourself grow with the rhythm of the Lone Star State. It may look different from what you knew before, but that’s exactly what makes it worth exploring!
FAQs
Out of everything I learned, I think the most important thing I wish I had known about before moving to Texas would be the dry heat. I suffered a heatstroke in my first week there, and I was always on the verge of dehydration. Take the forecasts and the severe weather warnings seriously.
I really liked living in Austin, Texas, but it’s on the pricey side. I recommend San Antonio to save money, or a smaller town on the edges of the bigger city of your choosing. If you’re planning to move to Texas, using a checklist for moving out of state can make the transition easier.
J. Dailey has an English degree with a focus in technical writing. When not busy blogging, find J. Dailey hiking, playing tabletop games, or spending time with cats.
