I’m back again to continue on my long-winded rendition of an action-packed week Steven and I had a few weeks ago. So today, kids, I’ll tell a story of Charleston, complete with horse pee, really bad eggs, decorated palm trees (just like that Corona commercial), and Williston.
We left on Sunday morning from the Tutweiler Hotel in Birmingham (ha ha ha, our friends didn’t know where we were staying at, but it wouldnt’ve mattered if they did, ’cause there was no car there anyway). Our parents brought us some food, clothes we left (I have never been so happy to see my hiking boots), and the car. So off we went on a nice, sunny day, while I was snapping pictures as we drove by interesting stuff (interesting being a trolley, a gingko tree, and a building in the reflection of another building . . . cool).
The drive wasn’t all that bad, but it wasn’t terribly interesting, either. Georgia should think about building less around Atlanta and start working on filling up that dead space between Atlanta and Augusta.
In South Carolina we went through a town called Williston. I got some pictures for Willis. We found his town! We got to Charleston about seven in the evening, eastern time. Time to find the hotel and eat! It had been a long time since that Arby’s in Augusta.
After a wrong turn and a very creepy drive around Battery Park, we found the Harborview Inn, our abode during our stay in town. They parked our car for us, so I was amused. There was also a cool, old map on the wall, so I was twice amused. I was thrice amused when the dude at the front desk said they could make recommendations and get reservations for us, so we took him up on his offer and asked if there was a place close by where we could get something “light.” He recommended a place that served a whole bunch of appetizer that you can nibble off of.
It felt good to walk. Probably one of the things I miss most about college is the walking. That was my only form of exercise, and now I don’t even get that. Not a block from our hotel, we came upon a Subway. I made a mental note to get a picture of that later. The restaurant, Meritage, was about four blocks up the street. It was very good, too. We had a crab cake, something with filet mignon, and some roasted peppers and onions with cheese. I was amused yet again. Then we were off back to the hotel; we were full and tired. I think I burped peppers that night. Tasty!
The next day we had no specific itinerary; there was a whole town to see without required tours and excursions getting in the way. It turns out they named our inn ‘Harborview’ for a reason; we were right on the water. There was even a nifty pier we could walk down on. By the smell, we reasoned it was at low tide. We decided it smelled like really bad eggs. I think we quote Pirates of the Caribbean too much.
I took an inventory of my film, and rationed out four rolls for that day (Monday), another four for Tuesday, and one for Christmas. Fifteen minutes later, when we were halfway down the Battery and on the third roll of film, I quickly amended the film ration to eight rolls for that day and more film would be bought later.
Most of the morning I walked around with the camera constantly attached to my face; I’m amazed I didn’t walk off the pier. Most of our walk was dotted with my exclamations of “Oooooh, look at the trees!” *snap* “Ooooh, neat statue!” *snap* “Neat! A boot scraper!” *snap* “Wow!” *snap* “Oh, my God, a camellia!” *snap*. I’m so glad Steven tolerates me.
We also met some interesting people. We met an old man at Waterfront Park when I was getting some pictures of this fantastic pineapple fountain. He asked if we would like him to take our picture in front of said fountain. We said, “Okay!” I know what you’re thinking; that was pretty dumb to hand over my $300 camera to some stranger. Yeah, it usually is. I talked to Steven about it later, and we had the same thought going through our head: “If he took off . . . we could catch him.” This dude was no spring chicken, mind. It turned out he was okay.
“This isn’t your normal $39.95 K-mart camera,” he jovially remarked.
We even talked about football, once he realized we were from Alabama. Auburn versus Alabama, Clemson versus South Carolina, that sort of thing. I’m mad at South Carolina, though. See previous comment about dumb Cocky.
We met another interesting couple later that evening while enjoying some wine and cheese courtesy of the Inn. They were an older couple from North Carolina, originally from New Jersey. They were on their own honeymoon of sorts because they had finally completed some annulment paperwork so their marriage was valid in the eyes of the Catholic Church. It was a very pleasant conversation, no doubt encouraged by the generous helping of wine. We talked about traveling, golf, cultural differences between North and South, Auburn (they had been there and loved it), dancing lessons, and even more subjects I can’t remember right now. Very interesting people.
For lunch that day we ate at Hyman’s (yeah, I know) Seafood. It was fantastic; well worth the wait. I sat where Timothy Dalton had sat, and Steven was sitting where Anthony Hopkins had once dined. I think I amused the waiter with my excitement. For dinner that evening we ate at a place called Slightly North of Broad, or S.N.O.B. for short. It was a very nice, elegant place. Steven had duck, I believe. I had something to do with beef. Probably one of the best salads I’ve had in a while. After dinner, we made it back to the Inn in time for fresh-baked cookies and milk. Steven was very excited over that.
The next day we took an hour and a half horse carriage ride around the town. If you ever go to Charleston, I highly recommend one. After Steven and I had walked around, taking in these neat, beautiful buildings, we finally got to hear tidbits of information about them. Our tour man was named Walt who had a friend in Birmingham that sold Land Rovers and loved it, and our horse was Big Jim. There was a couple from Hoover on the ride with us, and some people from Florida and California, too.
In front of the Powder Magazine building (oldest public building in Charleston), Big Jim had a Big Pee. All I can think to say is, “Wow.” When in Charleston, avoid the bubbly puddles, for they are warm and smell of ammonia. I was very impressed, and was even more impressed by Walt, who was able to tell all about the Powder Magazine with a straight face while Big Jim watered the weeds.
For lunch that day, we ate at a restaurant called 82 Queen, which was highly recommended by a number of people. After eating there, I can see why. It was a warm day, even for December, so we ate outside in the courtyard area. There were sparrows hopping about, hoping you would drop some of your crab cake, and trees surrounded us, partially blocking us off from the other patrons. I was, yet again, amused, and my many photographs from that lunch are proof of my amusement. We tried some of their specialty she-crab soup, which was absolutely spectacular. It is worth the seven hour drive, twelve dollars to park, and the six bucks for just that soup. Drive to Charleston and get yours today, yo. We got dessert there as well: I had my first creme brulee and Steven had something very, very chocolatey. We ate it all, but don’t worry, I’ve got pictures.
For dinner, we came across an Irish pub called O’Reilly’s. It was very fun as well, totally opposite from where we had dined the previous evening. We got there during their appetizer happy hour, so we got a humongous plate of calamari for only three bucks. It filled us up so much we could barely eat our actual dinner. We just sat back, relaxed, and talked while I took pictures and the T.V. screamed about Mad Cow Disease. I remember thinking I was glad I had ordered pasta. Ah, and I got a picture of the calamari, too. No worries.
After dinner and a regroup at the hotel, we were back out again, this time for a tour called The Dark Side of Charleston. We were promised stories of murder, scandal, and intrigue, along with a trip inside the old Jail. It was very amusing. We saw where someone was shot, and the killer’s building where he opened up a store later. We also learned about the old prostitute house and some other stories. The jail was really creepy. You could see where the prisoners stayed, and there were a bunch of various marks on the wall, ranging from tallies of days, a sailor’s drawing of his ship, and even some porn. Woo-hoo!
The next morning, it was already time to leave. We were able to skirt by an antique store on King Street real quick so we could get a nice souvenir, which we eventually acquired in the shape of a cut glass crystal pitcher. Then off we went to get on the interstate and head back home for Christmastime. I hated to go (Steven and I have decided we’re gonna buy one of those houses someday), but I was also looking forward to getting home to my Renton, who I hadn’t seen since the Thursday before the wedding.
Here are some of the things I noticed about Charleston in general. First off, most Charlestonians drive either Jaguars or Porches. My kind of people. Secondly, they decorate perfectly for Christmas. Most of their garland was the real stuff, be it cedar branches, magnolia leaves, or pine needles. Fantastic. Their accent is a bit heavier than the Alabamian one I’m used to. Theirs is more like what one hears in the movies. One could make a great living doing landscaping for these people. I was amazed by how much landscape they could fit into their little alleys between the houses. Hire me now! Lastly, they keep a very clean city. I was amused.
All in all, I think I took about ten rolls of pictures in Charleston. Everywhere you looked, there was something cool. Once again, I give praise to Steven who is so tolerant of me and my eccentricities.
If you know if a particular building, street, or other thing in Charleston that you need a picture of, call me. Odds are I probably have a shot of it.