RECENTLY, a couple from our old New York City neighborhood came to visit us for a weekend in Rhode Island. We were lucky; the weather was ideal and there was a lot going on to keep us all amused.

On Saturday night -- after lunch by the water in Tiverton and a visit to Sakonnet Vineyards, in Little Compton -- we went downtown so our friends could experience WaterFire. It was an event we could all relate to as New Yorkers, with its teeming crowds, spectacle and sophistication. We watched the lighting of the fires up by Waterplace Park, then strolled back to the salsa lesson at the Sovereign Plaza Ballroom, where hundreds of couples were undulating experimentally together. Then we had dinner at Pot au Feu, and when we emerged, at 11 p.m. or so, the salsa band and dancing were better than ever.

Just before midnight we walked back to the car, on the way reflecting on the differences between this evening in Providence and the same kind of event in New York. Providence came off very well. What most struck us were the relaxed, happy vibes and the lack of any sense of menace.

Now New York has achieved acclaim for becoming one of the safest big cities in the country, but there are still a substantial number of people there who look as though they would like to be criminals if they had the chance. Make eye contact with one of them at your peril. "Yo: You lookin' at me?"

The crowds in Providence were as varied demographically and economically as any we'd seen in New York, but there was a widespread feeling that I can describe only as happiness. People were happy to be jammed together watching WaterFire, listening to the strange New Age music, and seeing the gondolas glide past the torches. People were happy to be jammed together in the outdoor "ballroom," salsa-ing away with abandon. Really good Latino dance couples shared the space with really hopeless East Side two-steppers, and nobody pulled a knife when someone stepped on a toe.

The next day we biked down to Colt State Park and had a picnic 20 feet from the water. There were a lot of other picnickers, but we had no trouble finding a table.

Nearby, a couple who looked about our age (think Elvis, Beatles, Roger Maris, Bay of Pigs) were flying kites in a beautiful and quite extraordinary aerial ballet. Each one's kite danced with the other's, sometimes shooting straight up, then plunging together back to earth and stopping suddenly six inches off the ground, remaining motionless until they shot off together again. It was like watching the Blue Angels, but much quieter.

The only intrusion on the afternoon's bucolic tranquillity came with the occasional car equipped with mega-bass trunk speakers amped way up, so the water in your cup shook. Actually, a useful reminder of just how serene the scene was in general.

Yes, we saw Rhode Island at its best. But as newcomers to the state, we feel compelled to remind you natives of the extraordinary qualities of this part of the world.

Yes, you have most of the ills that afflict the rest of the country. Your taxes are way too high, and your drivers should all have their vehicles impounded. Yes, graffiti mars too many public spaces, and don't get me started on street signs. But the people of Rhode Island are so exceptionally blessed, by nature and by one another, that living here has begun to feel like a privilege.

John Schenck, a former New York magazine-advertising executive, is a Providence-based writer.