We were at Wormsloe Plantation (above), remarking on the flora and fauna along the Skidaway Narrows when I noticed a girl, probably thirteen or so, standing nearby. I screamed at her, "Watch out!" She didn't flinch. Not even her eyelids moved.
"Did it work?" I asked her, referring to her hiccups and my attempt to startle them away.
To which my husband said, "You mean did you convince her you're crazy? Yes. Yes it worked."
She looked at my husband. She looked at me. And then she hiccuped.
These southerners are cool cucumbers. Beginning with General James Oglethorpe, who founded the city of Savannah in 1733 in a burst of idealistic exuberance. He outlawed slavery and rum. He promoted freedom of religion and expression. He made peace with the local Native American tribe and Savannah escaped the kind of warfare that plagued similar settlements.
His city is flourishing today. It is less stuffy than Charleston. A little quieter than New Orleans. It is friendly, fun, and full of ghosts. (It's also full of tour buses. That's really my only beef.) If you're a rolling stone, put this spot on your list. If you're an armchair traveler, please join me for a short stroll through the Hostess City of the South.
Savannah is laid out in a pattern of open squares. Each square is cool and leafy and allows for superb air circulation. Currently there are twenty-two squares, like this one above, and like the famous one where Forrest Gump sat on a bench and ate a box of chocolates.
Like many cities in the South, Savannah is experiencing a renaissance. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, between 2000 and 2010, Savannah's population grew by almost 20%. We saw old homes being renovated everywhere.
Oh, the Spanish moss, which even on a sunny day, trails from every branch like ghostly innards. It is not a parasitic plant, by the way. It grows on trees but does not take nutrients from its host nor does it set roots.
The sun setting over Colonial Park Cemetery smack dab in the middle of Savannah's historic district. This beautiful cemetery is home to many who died of Yellow Fever. On this shimmery evening, I was comforted by the lack of mosquitoes.
We stayed at the historic Kehoe House Inn where my favorite amenity was their happy hour with warm appetizers, wine, and entertainment, including a wonderful lecture by a local historian. The Inn, located on Columbia Square, is a popular stop on every ghost tour. I sensed no paranormal activity there, though one of the employees did share a video she took of a floating orb at The Marshall House.
A view of The Arches Bar on a Friday afternoon. Food and drink in Savannah rivals that in New Orleans. This is Paula Deen's hometown but truthfully, much of what we ate seemed pretty healthy. Except maybe the fried alligator fritters, which were delicious.
Savannah College of Art and Design is a prominent presence in town. We loved browsing the campus store where students and alums sell their original work. And this airy shop, Fabrika, is operated by a SCAD alum -- a must for crafters and quilters.
We escaped a rain storm here at The Collins Quarter which specializes in "brunch and booze." We all agreed it may have been our favorite meal. I took a photo of the menu for inspiration. Seriously, what could be better on a Thursday night than their #Tag This Hash, a braised pot roast, potato hash cakes, scoop of smashed avocado, fried egg, and chimichurri.
There are many angels in the Bonaventure Cemetery. Almost all of them are looking or pointing down. But whether that means the angels think the departed are in hell or because they're just plain mournful, the knowledgable guide didn't specify.
Deep in the Bonaventure Cemetery, also known as the Plantation of Death, there is this tombstone. Can you think of any name ever given better than Marie Boomershine Backus McGaughey? Didn't think so.
Inside singer/songwriter Johnny Mercer's spacious family plot in Bonaventure Cemetery, every monument and bench is carved with his song titles. The man was a prolific genius who seemed to get better as he aged. Some of his hits: "Come Rain or Come Shine," "Days of Wine and Roses," "Hooray for Hollywood," "In the Cool, Cool, Cool of the Evening," "One for My Baby," "Skylark," "Something’s Got to Give," "Old Black Magic," "You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby."
The view from Conrad Aiken's grave overlooking the Wilmington River. The poet hung out here on the regular, drinking gin and convening with the dead. He won the Pulitzer, was named Poet Laureate of Georgia by Jimmy Carter, and wrote these lines: "In eighteen hundred and eighty nine / Conrad Aiken crossed the line / In nineteen hundred and question‐mark / Aiken's windowpane was dark / But in between o in between the things he'd seen!" You can read his fascinating obituary here.
We dined twice at The Olde Pink House, we liked it so much. It was hard to get a reservation because of a wedding, so we snuggled knee to knee at the cozy fire with hospitable strangers from Atlanta and Miami.
The Olde Pink House is three levels of fine dining including a warren of subterranean rooms in which you can dine by candlelight, enjoy live jazz, and await the resident ghost.
John Berendt, author of "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" said this: "If you go to Atlanta, the first question people ask you is, 'What's your business?'. In Macon they ask, 'Where do you go to church?' In Augusta they ask your grandmother's maiden name. But in Savannah the first question people ask you is, 'What would you like to drink?'"
Here we are at the entrance to Wormsloe Plantation, home of four hundred live oaks. (I've long theorized that we pick mates who bear some physical resemblance to ourselves. You can see evidence of my theory above: the couple on the left share meaty bulbous noses and the couple on the right are blessed with the kind of pleasingly linear noses that the art students at Savannah College of Art and Design most definitely prefer to draw.)
FOURTEEN OF OUR FAVORITE SOUTHERN TITLES
We talked books a lot on this getaway. Our friends are great readers. I polled them for you and here are their favorite Southern titles.
My friend Henry's picks: "Good Country People" by Flannery O'Connor, "Why I Live at the P.O." by Eudora Welty, and if Cormac McCarthy qualifies as a southern writer, then "Blood Meridian" is his third pick.
My friend Heather's picks: "Bastard Out of Carolina" by Dorothy Allison, "Cold Mountain" by Charles Frazier, "Prince of Tides" by Pat Conroy, and "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" by Rebecca Wells.
My husband's picks: "To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee, "Confederacy of Dunces" by John Kennedy Toole, and "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" by Mark Twain.
My picks: "The Keepers of the House" by Shirley Ann Grau, "As I Lay Dying" by William Faulkner, "Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe" by Fannie Flagg, and "Hold Still" by Sally Mann.
For more armchair traveling down south, click here to read my post Three Sweet Days in New Orleans.