Still a Lady

Savannah, Georgia is an old city.  She's like an eighty-three year old lady compared to my town in North Dakota being a four year old preschooler.  Savannah is a classy old lady though; one that still puts on jewelry and make-up and her finest clothes with coiffed hair every morning because someone just might come to her door.  Because she's southern you see and to her, that is just the way it is.  

Being in a city that is almost as old as our country is an experience.  Savannah has rocks in its streets that are older than our whole state.  There is so much history I can't even begin to comprehend just how much those streets have witnessed.  The city is extremely diverse in its people but also in its architecture and design.  It's like the clashing of two worlds in both areas.   Maybe it's not so much of a clashing as everything really does seem to exist in harmony.  The new right along with the old and the every different kind of person you can imagine all just seem to do their thing.  It's a place where it actually seems normal to see men play their musical instruments right next to another man wearing a complete white suit with a white hat.  Think "the South in the 1920s" because I'm telling you, that is what he looked exactly like.  It's just not something I see around here.  I went up to the man in the white suit and white hat all excited because he so looked the part, "Now, look at you!!  What do we have going on here?!  I'm loving this..."

And, then please imagine me looking at his stunned expression and turning my head around and slowly realizing that he was LEADING A TOUR GROUP and was mid-tour.  Uffda.  I told the tour group that I was not a planned part of the tour and quickly darted away with a wave and a smile.  No picture of him either; I figured he'd been through enough at that point.   

Savannah is a stunning city; not because it's perfectly perfect.  In fact, she is far from perfect.  Dirty in areas and not well taken care of in places but then all of a sudden, an unbelievably beautiful square will show its face.  With trees that droop to the ground like they are embracing all of it under their shadowy billows.  And it's as if the hustle and bustle of the city stops and time stands still.

The original squares the city were designed around still exist.  Well, most of them anyway.  The squares are similar to small parks every four streets or so.  Of course, they are in the oldest part of the city so the squares are surrounded by the most classic houses and buildings I've ever seen.  Old.  Those houses and buildings have been around for some of the best of times and the worst of times for our country and when under the cool shade of a twisted and gnarled tree, you can't help but imagine what it would have been like to walk the streets of Savannah during the time when "Cotton was King."

River Street was by far my favorite.  Every building.  Every stone in the street.  Every stairway.  Every awning.  Every entrance.  They are all aged to perfection.  The area still has such a quality to it that you can imagine  the sailors coming in all tired and weary making their way to find a local drink.  And then leaving after having their fill with their cargo of cotton.

When Sister Pister was walking ahead of me, I had a moment of clarity about just how much our country has changed since its young days.  I was watching my young, soon to be an adult, sister chart off on her own path without a care in the world because she knows that in this place, she's allowed the freedom to just go.  She can wander and explore.  And she can be who she wants to be.  She encompasses all that is true empowerment and that is a beautiful thing.   

 
There was an aged sailing ship complete with a true to the time crew aboard docked right at the river.  Remember I love to state the obvious.  I'm glad it wasn't docked on the street.  And Sister Pister and I wanted in.  We both wanted to get.on.that.boat.  I wanted on because I wanted to experience sailing and I figured an old sailboat with an authentic looking crew was the way to go.  Sister Pister wanted on because she spotted a cute sailor boy and promptly told me, "Take a picture of that."  You have to love teenage girls.

Now, enormous ships still travel the river with loads of business and I couldn't quite get over their size.  And let's just say that Savannah has itself a "Dear Jesus" bridge of its own.  This one has no railings either.  San Diego and Savannah...apparently, they both don't believe in bridge safety.  When we went to make the trek back to Hilton Head, that bridge was actually closed due to a semi accident.  See.  Told you.  It's a "Dear Jesus" type of situation.      

After weaving our way to the top of River Street, while waiting for our "Old Savannah Tour" trolley to pick us up, I noticed Dad-o looking intently at the Savannah Cotton Exchange building.  I wondered if he was thinking about the farmers of that time; I suppose it would be like me going to a one room schoolhouse.  From the way he lingered, I do believe his inner farmer was speaking to him.  The one that feels the dirt.   

While Dad-o was having a moment, so was I.  The trees created a perfect backdrop so my inner "take a whole lotta pictures" came out.  Sisters.  Moms.  Aunts.  They are a beautiful thing.

 
After not hopping our tour bus, we just decided to hoof it instead on the oldest street in Georgia.  Bull Street.  From there, you get a pretty magnificent view of city hall with its gold dome.  

After a couple of more streets, we landed upon a famous eatery.  Lady and Sons.  We couldn't actually eat there because you apparently have to plan for weeks, maybe months in advance to be able to walk through the doors.  That was alright with me; I just really liked the red and white striped awnings anyway. 

Even though we didn't get to eat at the place to eat, everyone did get some ice cream at an "organic" ice cream shop.  Well, I didn't.  I headed out on my own for a bit.  Sometimes I just need to be alone and do some visiting and exploring.  I did hear later though that Dad-o had quite the opinion/rant about the whole organic concept but then ended up eating his words as it was tasty tasty ice cream.  I think he was still just bitter about me buying "natural" peanut butter at the Bi-lo grocery store on Hilton Head.  I overheard him earlier that morning saying to Momma Debi that the brown lid peanut butter just might be the end of him.  Turns out, he actually was alright with that "hippy" peanut butter as well.  He really broadened his horizons.

Then, we all found our way back to the cars and tried to go and visit a famous old cemetery; let's just say it didn't go as planned and involved a lot of "Ma'am, no.  No Ma'am.  Ma'am.  No Ma'am."  After having some direction issues hearing, albeit politely, that the cemetery was indeed closed was not the best way to end the day.  Add to that trying to go across the closed "Dear Jesus" bridge and then spending some quality time in traffic and you've got yourself a regular old perfect ending.  Good thing we pulled through with gourmet pizza back on the island before calling it a night.

Savannah is an experience.  A culture and visual kaleidoscope.  She's definitely a lady worth stopping by on a warm afternoon for a visit.  I guarantee her hair will be coiffed and she'll have her pearls on.  A true southern heart.