Once a beach umbrella had found it's way into the back of the Allroad, Sharon and I were off for the 5.5 hour drive to Savannah. It's a straight shot down I-95 among the innumerable cars (many of the SUV and RV persuasion) with "New Jersey" and "New York" license plates. For the most part, an easy drive as long as you don't expose yourself too the panoply of speed ambushes that South Carolina hides behind every overpass and speck of median vegetation.
Our retreat is the Eliza Thompson house, built in 1847, it is now a bed and breakfast including both the main house and a carriage house surrounding a brick courtyard with koi nosing around a fountain and cafe umbrellas for the daily breakfasts.
Soon after we had unpacked, we ventured down Bull Street to assimilate some of the flavor of the town. Savannah's residents are lucky to have a town of squares, leafy, be-statued respites from a typical grid. At one instance will be a square dedicated to a Polish count stricken by grapeshot attempting to take the town from the British during the Revolutionary War, to an Indian chief, who welcomed Savannah's first colonists with open arms.
In this late afternoon, the town was hushed and humid--not many tourists prowling the streets. We encountered a cool and airy cafe (from where I am typing this entry) known as "Gallery Espresso", a bohemian haunt for SCAD (Savannah College of Art and Design) students and locals that has become a daily stop for us in our short stay here. It is populated with comfortable, threadbare, and stained armchairs and couches, and an 3-gruppo (Faema E61's) espresso machine of a make I'm not familiar with.
As expected, Savannah's streets are wide and lined with Spanish Moss-laden trees. We walk north towards the Savannah river and the rather touristy River Street, packed with restaurants and shops in what used to be Savannah's bustling cotton warehouses.
Our first meal in Savannah was at the Olde Pink House, a classic Savannah location, one of the oldest buildings in town, its pink coloration originally coming from red clay bricks bleeding through white stucco. The meal (Sharon's being scallops with eggplant, mine being a simple strip steak) was well prepared, not lacking in flavor, but perhaps in fireworks or originality.Posted by erich at August 22, 2004 05:40 PM