Last night, November 5, was the "fall back" to Standard Time. Although the clock proclaims that it is 6:15 am, my body says it is 7:15, so I am up. Kelly is still dozing so I am writing by flashlight, sitting in a chair, juggling pen and paper.
Yesterday was sunny but very windy. We drove to Savannah from Fayetteville, NC, leaving at 9:30, arriving around 3:30. En route we stopped near Santee, SC to drive through Santee State Park to the shore of Lake Marion. It was a pretty drive of several miles through green pines, but also through deciduous trees that are still leaved in green. Others were just starting to turn to bright gold and orange. Back in Pennsylvania, the trees are brown or bare. We drove to the lake, took a couple photos of driftwood and choppy water, and hopped back into the car to get out of a fierce wind.
Lunch was a "Little Joe" platter at Maurice's Piggy Park. The smoky pulled pork on a bun came with French fries, coleslaw and a couple hush puppies. The hush puppies were tasty--cornmeal and onion--a good thing since I burped themd the rest of the day. They were indigestion in a plastic basket.
A ways down US95 from Santee, we saw a billboard advertising a Sabatier knife outlet. Since we needed to fuel up the car anyway, we stopped there. A small shop filled with wonderful knives. We each bought some new knives. I have a well-stocked knife block at home, but my husband and I always seem to be reaching for the chef's knife at the same time. So, purchasing another chef's knife (his and hers?) didn't seem overly self-indulgent.
We cruised into Savannah on State Route 17, an absolute washboard of a road. But it was nice that the Google directions were correct for a change. We had had a few problems in Fayetteville the evening before. We ended up traveling several miles down the road, then discovering the hotel across from the highway exit ramp.
The hotel here in Savannah is lovely with fireplaces in the lobby and wide planked pine floors. "Tea is from four to six." Tea was enjoyed by the fire with piano accompaniment.
We strolled the Savannah Historic District last evening. By all rights, it should really be labelled the Savannah Bar and Restaurant District, with an emphasis on "bar". I would still respect it in the morning.
I've been trying to remember where I sang when I was a travelling folk musician in 1966. I'm not sure, but we rambled from one end of River Street to the other looking for it. My best guess is the River City Inn. I had forgotten how steep the hill is to get from River Street to Bay Street. Also forgotten was how treacherous the ballast stone paving can be for those of us who aren't always steady on our feet. Tiny steps, eyes on the ground.
Coming under the walkway of one of the hotels (The Sheraton, I think) we heard male voices harmonizing. It sounded like an entire gospel choir. But it was just two men amplified by the acoustics of the walkway. They were singing old hymns and ignoring all the sinners and sinner wannabes strolling by.
We stopped for a drink at the Shrimp Factory. "What should we get?" asked Kelly. "One of everything." replied the bartender. We ordered a sweet tea with vodka and peach schnapps. "Do you want that for here or to go?" We got it to go but stayed to have an appetizer of shrimp remoulade over garlic butter pasta.
Back out on River Street, a head poked out the door of a bar and shouted to someone down the street, "You get back in this bar. Your drink's all gone!" Chilly as it was, people were everywhere outside. They stolled along in groups with their "go" cups in hand. "May I have a chardonnay to go, please?"
We walked a long ways--past the Paula Deen Shop and the Lady and Sons; past the theater where the Savannah Film Festival was advertising its final night with old-fashioned spotlights streaking the sky; through the City Market, jammed with people listening to a local blues band or waiting in line for pizza at Vinnie Van Gogo's; ending up at Belford's Restaurant for Jim Beam, calamari and a shared Caesar salad.
Then the long walk back to the hotel. The "dogs were barking" and my legs were sore after our five and a half mile stroll around the city. We decided that the next day we would sightsee in the car for part of the day.
We were in bed, two very tired ladies (as we are addressed here). "I'm sorry, ladies, I don't have have a table for you, but you ladies could have a seat at the bar." "What can I get for you ladies?" "Would you ladies like help with your luggage?"
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