I'm reading Lawrence Block's memoir, in which he writes about his experience of living in a very nice inn in Spain with his wife. They suspect the owner of that inn is a gay man. And their conversation goes:
"What on earth is that perfectly charming fellow doing running this perfectly charming inn out here in Spain?"
“You don’t suppose–––”
“No question. He’s wearing keys.”
“Well, he’s in the hotel business,” I said. “There’s all those doors he has to be able to open. And maybe wearing keys means something different here.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Jesus,” I said, “how do we do it? I guess you can take us out of the West Village, but you can’t take the country out of Salem. I’ll tell you something. I don’t care how he got here. I’m just glad this day is coming to an end."
I don't understand the part of "how do we do it? I guess you can take us out of the West Village, but you can’t take the country out of Salem". I mean, how do they do what? And what does "you can take us out of the West Village, but you can’t take the country out of Salem" mean?