Charleston, South Carolina Dispatch

My sister Donna is the organized one, the reasonable, sane one, the positive, friendly one, and the best GPS interpreter on earth. Or I could say GPS translator, or I could say we were never lost on this entire road trip!! I did all the driving and she related in a clear, timely way (easily understood Oklahoma-plus-New Jersey accent) everything that the annoying GPS bitch was yapping about! For my own part, I managed to never put the automatic gear on the rental car into park at stoplights thinking I was putting it in first gear, like my stick shift in Brazil, and I didn’t run into anything or run over anything.

Charleston is an older city than Savannah, existing since 1670 in the English colony of Carolina. Its very active port began exporting deerskin supplied by Cherokee and Creek natives for European trousers, gloves and books. Once African slaves disembarked at this port and brought knowledge of rice and indigo cultivation, these followed as huge exports. After the Revolutionary War and the invention of the cotton gin in 1793, cotton became the most important export, as in Georgia.

The wealthy merchants and plantation owners of this region developed a rich cultural heritage, building the first theater in North America (and I’ll mention here that the city was preparing for the international Spoleto Festival while we were there). The Charleston Library Society was founded by colonists who wanted to stay abreast of the scientific and philosophical developments of the era; they also founded the College of Charleston in 1770 (and I’ll mention here that this erudite spirit helps to set this city apart from the rest of the state to this day). There was a diverse and tolerant array of colonists, not just from England, but from France, Scotland, Ireland, Germany – representing an array of denominations and religions, including Sephardic Jews. By the beginning of the 19th century Charleston had the largest and wealthiest Jewish community in North America. The largest segment of the population was enslaved Africans.

I know that not all of you used to travel to the Podunk Junctions of South Carolina, as I did, to print at the textile printing mills, and may not be curious about the reason so many motels are called “Palmetto Something.” South Carolina is the ‘palmetto state’ because the fort built at Charleston out of the hard wood of the palmetto tree proved impenetrable by the British cannons early in the Revolutionary War. Fortunes were eventually reversed: the Siege of Charleston resulted in the occupation of the city by the British for almost three years near the end of the war. Then fortunes were reversed yet again.

After another eighty years of mighty charming and graceful southern life in Charleston supported by cotton and the labor of slaves, the Civil war “between the states” began with the surrender of the Union’s Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor. Charleston had much rebuilding and regrouping to do when the Union prevailed in 1865. A 7.5 earthquake in 1886 didn’t help. Eventually over the decades, through the Civil Rights era, economic slump and even Hurricane Hugo (the eye came ashore in Charleston Harbor in 1989), cultural and economic institutions were re-established and a significant commitment was made to historic preservation. Today the city enjoys designations such as “the most polite and hospitable city in America” (Southern Living magazine). I will vouch that the citizens are a friendly lot.

I’ll get back to my trip with Donna: we had decided to splurge on a bed and breakfast inn for one night in Charleston to fully immerse ourselves in the charm and grace of the historic center. We arrived at the lovely Meeting Street Inn in time for the charming and graceful wine and hors d’oeuvres reception for guests in the lobby and beautiful courtyard. We were flattered when a young, handsome couple we had met at check-in sought us out in the far reaches of the patio (well, the alternative was a large tour of even older people, rather stern looking). The couple was from an island near Savannah and celebrating their anniversary. We had a wonderful conversation with the personal trainer wife (she literally continues a regimen with clients after they return home from vacation in the South, through Skype workouts) and with the husband, who is a high school teacher for emotionally disturbed students. He had one hand bandaged up from intervening in an altercation between two students. I relished our conversation about education, the environmental pitfalls of raising children, and the challenge he loved of simply having to be on the spot and ready for anything each day.

Donna and I enjoyed a champagne and oyster dinner after wandering around in a light rain. The meal ran a little high with around 11% in tax (there is a 2% hospitality tax added in the city). It was worth it.

Our walking self-tour the next day was under a bright sun. We visited the Nathanial Russell historic house from the early 19th century. He was a wealthy shipping magnate and slave trader. The furnishings here were historically appropriate or reproductions, not actual furnishings of the original family, though the Historical Society took great pains to replicate the exact, exquisite wall colors and the architectural detail. Most notable about this house is the engineering wonder of the free-floating staircase that curves up to the second floor from the foyer. It has flummoxed architects and engineers for two centuries!

We made our way to the waterfront houses, enjoying en route the southern colonial style that prevails…oddly placing the homes sideways against each other in order to have shade on the open verandas and balconies. The lots are small and the homes a bit jumbled up because of this sideways orientation, though most have lovely gardens in back. These homes are all inhabited today. I only have photos of houses that face the water, so you’ll just have to take my word that many elsewhere face sideways…or just go to Charleston and see.

Donna and I had a seafood lunch on a pier in a most pleasant ocean breeze. And to live up to the requirement of great cities, Charleston offered up a most unlikely coincidence: notice the brunette woman’s bent head in the left corner behind Donna. Imagine the shock when Donna heard her named called out and discovered a fellow-retired friend from home (Lawrenceville, New Jersey), who taught at the same school where Donna worked in the administration!

We continued walking and shopping at the famous old market and along King Street until too late to realize how exhausted we were. Our reservation was just outside of town at a chain hotel on the way to our next destination. Here I am, bleary-eyed and physically spent, having had peanuts and a protein bar for dinner since we were too tired to go anywhere, about to fill the bathroom wastebasket with ice from the hallway ice machine to chill the extra bottle of wine leftover from the cruise. We were watching “American Idol” on television – my first ever. This photo is really more about the shoes than how ill-suited I am to prolonged shopping. Donna brought several nice pairs of shoes on the trip, but continually opted for these too-silver ones because of their superior comfort (aluminum foil?…or the material I had recently seen at Cape Canaveral on the exterior of the space capsule?). We had a lot of laughs by me making fun of these shoes and Donna agreeing while wearing them every day! She offered them to me for my pajama-clad corridor ice trip. Sure enough, superior comfort.

In the meantime, Newton was visiting the Great Wall of China:

Donna and I recovered and hit the road towards Ashville, North Carolina the next morning.

Love,

Sandy

Savannah, Georgia Dispatch

Mind you, I had already driven to the Orlando airport twice that Sunday after our cruise docked to pick up the rental car for the upcoming ROAD TRIP, and later to drop Elise for her flight home. Instead of consulting a map or, heaven forbid, trying to figure out the GPS, I simply trusted a random tourist I caught on my way out of the hotel. “Route 4, correct, to the airport?” “Yes, just over that way” (points). “That’s Route 4 EAST, right?” “Yes.” [Wrong.] My sister Donna’s flight was coming in from New Jersey in 40 minutes.

One hour and forty minutes later I pulled up at the airport arrivals and found Donna STILL THERE! I had not been so lost in decades. I was shaking, dying of thirst, my cheek was injured where the car door had hit it after I stopped to ask directions again. I had made every wrong turn in the book, not excluding a couple of wrong highways. Donna was all happy; her flight had been an hour late and she had just appeared there. You can already detect signs of Sandra traveling without Newton: direction challenged, GPS challenged, no internet on the phone to have checked the flight status.

Our road trip began and ended with especially comic, especially “Needham” scenes. Once we arrived at the hotel, thirsty and starving and wondering if they were still serving anything, we parked and removed Donna’s suitcase from the trunk. But the headlights were still on. How long does that last? And will the car start tomorrow morning when we begin our road trip?? After some minutes I decided to open the car up and try to turn the headlights off. They went off, I locked the car, but then, as we were longing to head for the restaurant, the car’s inside lights were on. How long does that last? Will the car start tomorrow? After a wait, I opened the car again and eventually found the switch that turns them off, which I had inadvertently hit when dealing with the headlights, perhaps? Now I lock the car again and the headlights are on again. Then they went off. We had stood ten minutes in the parking lot. We saved the laughs at ourselves for later and headed with the suitcase straight to the restaurant/bar. Still serving!! Here we are recovering and looking forward to our “Thelma and Louise” road trip to three beautiful cities of the South.

We arrived in Savannah, Georgia the next afternoon. This city was established in 1733 (our Europe!) as the capital of the British colony of Georgia. The Historic District retains the original town design laid out by British general, James Oglethorpe, founder of the colony. Those twenty-two heavenly town squares, full of sprawling oak trees hung with moss and surrounded by beautiful historic houses were my post-cruise sanctuaries! I stand by my decision: Savannah is the United States’ most beautiful town.

Our Best Western hotel was just one of the ubiquitous chains we landed on Hotwire or Priceline.com, but it was located smack in the historic district, was appointed tastefully, and had a crackerjack concierge. We had walking routes highlighted on a map in no time and headed out to the beauty.

Every inch of the district reflects the loving care with which it is maintained. The sidewalks and brick streets are in pristine condition, as are the mansions surrounding the drop-dead-beautiful squares - parks, really, canopied with the welcome shade of the oak trees. Savannah has one of the South’s first public museums, one of the oldest African American church congregations, the third oldest synagogue in America, and is one of the largest National Historic Landmark Districts in the US.

Here are the beautiful house of the Mercer family, best known for the composer, Johnny Mercer (Moon River) and the Sorrel Weed House:

I would typify everything we saw as “good taste,” apart from some closed down buildings along the ‘main street,’ which sports more of a mid-20th century style. But even the new library housed in an old 1950’s department store was beautifully done. The shops are full of lovely, unusual items; despite Savannah’s extensive tourism, there are no ‘tourist shops’ per se. The Riverfront development of 19th century cotton warehouses along the Savannah River is full of great bars and restaurants:

Donna had an exquisite, typical dish here for dinner: shrimp and grits. Grits (an indigenous creation) are the textured mush made from field corn for which the South is famous. Dessert was a tart influenced by the also famous pecan praline.

There’s an interesting story about the postponement of slavery in this one southern colony. The British had no qualms about slavery, they were simply concerned about the Spanish next door in Florida, who offered freedom to slaves in exchange for military service. If slaves were allowed in Georgia, they would most likely help the Spanish threaten the security of this new English colony. By the time Oglethorpe defeated the Spanish in 1742, some Georgians and particularly the experienced planters of South Carolina were ready to pounce on all that agricultural land and supply it with West African slaves.

Early on in the colony, rice production was prominent. After the Revolutionary War, the cotton grown on plantations by the slaves became the most important commodity, and its export from the Port of Savannah enabled the city’s European immigrants to become very wealthy. The port also supplied them with fine imported goods.

Back in our Sunday School days we learned about John Wesley, the founder of Methodism. What we didn’t learn is that he was an early resident of Savannah, invited from England by Oglethorpe to head the new Anglican parish. He returned to England after a bit of a scandal: he both failed to convert any Native Americans and got into trouble with a woman he promised to marry, but didn’t. The resulting lawsuit wore him down, so he returned to England and founded Methodism instead.

Here is Juliette Low’s birthplace. She was the founder of the Girl Scouts, and her home became the headquarters in 1912.

We loved this old restored Solomon’s apothecary, complete with a stained glass dome and converted into a very elegant café and restaurant. Students of SCAD – Savannah College of Art and Design, located in the historic district – run this restaurant as well as one of the best design shops I’ve seen, which sells the creations of current and former students.

One cannot escape being haunted in the South by its slave-owning past and well-deserved reputation for racism, but one of the most striking things I saw in Savannah was the dignity, the confidence with which its African American residents carried themselves. In a general way, one does not see this in the North. I concluded that these families have been in this state since the mid-eighteenth century and have the appropriate bearing of such a lineage, despite some unspeakable hardships over those centuries. I also strongly suspect that Savannah is not run by rednecks.

Donna and I were treated to the charm and friendliness for which Savannah is famous by everyone we met. I very willingly enveloped myself in the visual and interpersonal gracefulness of the place!

We had this delicious ‘good-bye Savannah’ lunch before heading off to Charleston, South Carolina:

Love,

Sandy

Caribbean Dispatch

OK – I’ll be brief when I complain that I had to settle for a western Caribbean cruise. A Mediterranean cruise (and the prices were low after that horrible Italian disaster) required too much air fare for each family member and Jake’s girlfriend, Larissa. An Alaskan cruise sounded gorgeous and maybe not so predictable, as cruises go, but Elise only had six vacation days with her new full employment and was not about to spend them “in a cold place with loads of old people.” I wondered if cruises to Cuba existed, knowing how Americans can get away with no passport stamping there and traveling with three Brazilian citizens. All the cruise lines that had attempted Cuba were no longer dealing with Cuba, and the kids would have none of Mom’s educational, historical, cultural enrichment approach. And why a cruise, anyway? Well, our kids pay their own way; we are all together, yet able to do many different things; sunning is involved; the lodging and food are included; and I’m the only one who objects. “First world problems,” as my kids would say! So Port Canaveral, Florida on the Royal Caribbean line it was.

To mitigate the tourist atmosphere of Orlando the day before the cruise, we all headed for the Kennedy Space Center at Cape Canaveral. While a bit sterile, it is full of interesting installations and artifacts, including a piece of moon rock one can stroke. I thought the highlight was the live talk by astronaut Wendy Lawrence, a four-trip specialist to the Space Station. We did not go to the separate area with an astronaut museum and simulated astronaut training, but I’m guessing that going through astronaut training (or watching others go through it!) would spice up the day aplenty.

Elise and I were suckers for this photo mock-up of Newton!

 

 

We all surrendered completely to touristy Orlando that night, attending a dinner/comedy show at Wonder Works – an annoying design feat of a building which appears to be upside-down. The show featured the most hilarious comedian and talented magician imaginable: one man named Tony Brent. We also managed a truly lovely Mother’s Day brunch the next day ahead of cruise embarkation. Thanks, m’loves.

I’ll just let the photos of the cruise speak for themselves. Chances are many of you are not overly sensitive to your surroundings as I am and would not suffer from this design work as I did!

Yikes.

 

 

 

On our first day at sea Jake was diagnosed with mononucleosis. He arrived with a very sore throat and swollen lymph nodes in his neck, for which a Las Vegas doctor had given him antibiotics. This was his second dose of antibiotics in a month after having jumped barefoot inadvertently on a piece of plastic in Thailand, developing quite an infection in his heel. He received excellent, inexpensive care in Thailand, but was clearly depleted from all the antibiotics and now feverish, nauseous, and turning a bit yellow. The ship’s impressive Columbian doctor initially suspected hepatitis and explained ‘quarantined in the stateroom’ and ‘leaving the ship in Jamaica’ to us while we all awaited the results of the blood test, which took only an hour. It turns out that mono was the good news: “You can stay on the ship, just don’t kiss anyone!” Since mono is a virus, the doctor suspended the antibiotics immediately and ordered plenty of rest and non-alcoholic liquids. Jake managed the two shore excursions that required the least walking from the ship to a chaise lounge. He had a few days of miserable fever, but managed most dinners in the dining room, a couple of cruise trivia games, miniature golf, family card games and $500 in winnings at the blackjack table with the less-vigilant-than-Vegas dealer. We admire his fortitude while in great pain and his willingness to hang out with us when possible.

Elise and Larissa, who are great friends, entertained each other most days and nights while Jake rested:

In the meantime, Newton and I enjoyed a nice jazz spot on the top floor, he played a few losing rounds of Texas Hold ‘Em (Jake: “I can never get Dad to learn the basics”), and I unsuccessfully tried my skills at the “Finish the Lyric” contest, where in lieu of the Cole Porter and show tunes I expected were ‘80’s pop songs for which I knew only the title line. The whole family made a decent showing at the Michael Jackson music I.D. contest, thanks to Elise and Larissa.

Our four shore excursions were:

Labadee is a beautiful Haitian island leased by the Royal Caribbean line. They have organized a surprisingly lovely beach area on a peninsula of the island.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Falmouth, Jamaica, is an overlooked colonial town that Royal Caribbean is converting into another port of their own. This time, the new square they’ve built is lackluster, consisting of all the usual duty-free suspects. Some restoration has begun in the old town, though Newton and I appeared to be the only passengers from the cruise to explore it.

Our ship looked like a surreal, photo-shopped monster while in port:

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Grand Cayman is another underwhelming port, but with a gorgeous reef for snorkeling. Luckily Newton talked me into going under for a few seconds at a time (since I panic if that thing is over my nose for very long) because the other-worldly scene that greeted me was something one does not forget.

Cozumel, Mexico, made a good stop for us. Larissa found a very nice deal online ahead of the cruise where a 9 kilometer taxi ride landed us at a lovely beach resort, Mr. Sanchos, complete with food, drinks, snorkeling and kayaking.

I loved the time with my adorable family, and fun was had indeed, despite my pickiness and Jake’s misery. Speaking of which, when we returned to Port Canaveral Jake’s throat had swelled beyond the ability to swallow food or liquid, so he was feeling worse than ever. (I know, perhaps because he didn’t JUST rest?…and we were all accessories to that crime.) Newton had jumped off the ship posthaste to catch his flight to China for business. I picked up a rental car for the next leg of my trip and we took Jake to an emergency room in Orlando. He managed a meal and liquids after intravenous cortisone for the swelling, around ten different people attending him, and several hours waiting for the results of an unnecessary blood test. Yet another new face had triumphantly announced that he had Mono. Duh. Once home, he went to another emergency room in Las Vegas, and three days later was admitted to a hospital for a night with worsening dehydration. The throat eventually managed to swallow again. Thank goodness he is finally on the mend with much caretaking by Larissa!

And what was my rental car for? A ROAD TRIP with my sister Donna to Savannah, Charleston and Ashville!!

 

Love,

Sandy