I am going to preface this portion with an apology, and an explanation. The apology is for my absence; for those good at math, you can see I haven’t written in four days. The hotels we have been staying at, while cheap and a decent place to lay your head, don’t exactly provide the best WiFi. One place we stayed at in New Orleans didn’t even have WiFi at all, just wired internet. I have been spoiled my whole life.
The explanation is for this entry, will be taken up mostly with a glowing recommendation of Tybee Island, Georgia. I am an island girl, always have been, having spent the first 21 years of my life on Fire Island, NY. I only left my hometown after Hurricane Sandy, which devastated me. To find a beach so like my beloved FI, and to find out they rarely get hurricanes, is a dream come true for me. So there it is.
First, the drive to Savannah GA from suburban South Carolina was scenic for a little while, but pretty boring as time went on. When we finally got into Savannah, Mike and I immediately needed dinner and a beer to unwind from the five-hour drive. We found a little brewpub called Moon River Brewing Company. The food was perfect, and the beer was sufficient enough to make us happy. A long sunset walk down River Street made the night perfect. Savannah is like Williamsburg NY in how hipster, up-and-coming, and gentrified it is. The native population seems to be a mix of gentle thugs and southern belles, which is being infiltrated with college-aged artists and craft-beer drinkers, and somehow the two groups are mingling just fine. At no point wandering around the city did we feel unsafe, and everyone’s happy drunkenness was welcome instead of rowdy.
Oh yeah, that. Who knew that most of the southern cities allow you to drink in the streets? What an amazing discovery.
Anyway, the next day was spent on Tybee Island, which is a twenty minute drive out of the city down a long road into paradise. If anyone is remotely in the area of Georgia, they should see Tybee. The buildings are cheerfully painted, the sped limit is 10 miles an hour, and the air tastes of salt and happiness. They even have an Optimist’s Club, like seriously this place is happy. And on top of being happy, they have a pretty beautiful lighthouse with a bitchin’ chunk of southern history.
You see, this lighthouse was taken by the rebels during the Civil War, then burnt down so that the Union troops couldn’t use it. What they didn’t factor for some bizarre reason is that the building is half stone, so really, they just burned the stairs and their chances of the North not having a lookout. Then you have the fort Screven next to it, which has a hell of a history to it as well that I can’t even begin to explain. Needless to say, when it was still a defensive military fort, they used to disguise it as a sand dune. Yup, bye bye fort, just a huge lump of sand that seems a little out of place.
So of course being on an island and being a homesick island girl, I needed to see the beach. I needed sand between my toes and Atlantic licking at my ankles and wind to make my hair a crow’s nest. And a pocket stuffed to the brim with shells.
And I got it all, and then some. We now have shells rattling around in most pockets of the doors, and it makes me ridiculously happy. I will retire here one day, fifty years give or take.
The only other thing we did in Georgia was get the hell out of Dodge, leaving at 9:00 PM and getting into New Orleans at 6:30 AM. I don’t recommend this drive to anyone. Night driving is already not fun, but when you have hundreds of miles of unlit roads and no rest stops, and the one rest stop you finally find in Mississippi is surrounded by “palmetto bugs” (C’mon, southerners… They are cockroaches) it just adds to your misery. The sunrise over New Orleans was lovely, though, and the promise of a new adventure for my travel partner and I.
But that adventure is for another day, and another blog post. Keep reading!