SAVANNAH

We never really did catch the groove in Charleston, as we pondered whether it truly was the birthplace of the Charleston Chew. We found a pool, did our laps, saw the fire damage where those men died, and then blew out of town and hightailed it for Savannah where we were immediately floored by block after block of Gothic Revival bliss.

Laid out in a grid and seemingly endless, the historic distric is nothing short of flabberghasting. We found a great meal and the best espresso and budget lodgings at the charming swinger’s retreat known as Econo Lodge. Having made arrangements for a 10:45 hearse tour of the towns haunts and spooky hideouts we headed back to down after a torrential downpour that blessedly ended as our converted open-air hearse tour (recently mentioned in the NYT) headed out into the dark damp night and cruised the town giving us the lowdown on city history, city death, and city burial. Immersed in a kind of endless macabre beauty we were mesmerized by each city block and alley, dripping wet and spectrally illuminated by ambient city light. It was a dreamy treat, absolutely perfect.

While the outer edges of town are much like the generic America of every city in its relentless malls and garbage architecture, careful historical preservation has made the heart of this city a precious jewel that feels right in so many pleasing, right-sized ways, with plenty of space and a reasonable amount of traffic. We both agreed that we could live in this fine city, that reminded us both of our lives in similar towns, Cara’s in Olympia, and mine in Chico, CA.