Mike and I are having a wonderful sunny vacation but I was disappointed to not see any flowers in Charleston. Of course the weather took the blame. Locals said the hot, cold, hot, cold changes in the spring weather killed the blooms. Now we are in Savannah and the only flowers are on postcards and calendars..... or on the streets and gardens in Portland.
Today is Sunday and tourist attractions in Savannah are not open in the morning. Visiting a cemetery might not be the first thing that leaps into people's minds whilst on vacation, but that didn't stop us. We ordered a taxi and rode out to Bonaventure Cemetery; a truly lovely, peaceful, tranquil place covering something like 600 acres. The combination of elaborate statues, vast monuments, ancient live oaks, Spanish moss, sunlight streaming through the treescape, birds twittering overhead, and the Wilmington River bordering part of the perimeter create a unique environment. The only thing to spoil the tranquility the people who chose to drive from grave to grave; predominantly huge people in huge cars, who even when they emerged from their vehicles could not summon up the energy to turn engines off. For nearly two hours we wandered reading headstones, and photographing a place that could only exist here in the South; statues silhouetted by Spanish moss, obelisks rising into the branches of huge oak trees.
Ready to return to the city, we called a taxi, waited, and then called again. A cab arrived and a smiling driver welcomed us as we climbed in, only to realize we were not the customers he had come for. Out we climbed, and got back on the phone again. After thirty minutes of standing on a curb at the entrance, a couple stopped to let us cross the road and I informed them that we were waiting for a taxi. We quickly accepted their offer of a ride into the city. Chatting as we drove, they told us they were on a trip celebrating their first wedding anniversary. During the "where are you from?" introductions, the wife revealed she had just moved from Portland, was a native of Forest Grove, and that both of them were familiar with various areas of the city. Back in the center of Savannah, we went our separate ways for lunch.
For all ice cream lovers forget Molly Moon and Salt and Straw. It is a long trip, but Leopolds in Savannah is the place. The soup and the sandwich were very good, but the long line for ice cream stretches out the door all day and into the night. After our first taste it is obvious why.
Now fortified with a generous dose of sugar and cream we walked a short distance to the Isaiah Davenport for our first house tour of the day. Mr. Davenport was a master builder and intended to use his house to showcase his skills. Build in 1820 it was occupied by him, his wife, and five children until his early death from yellow fever in 1827. Seven Savannah women saved it from conversion into a parking lot in 1955 and a decade later it was refurbished and opened to the public. Much of the furniture and art work are listed in an 1820's inventory of Mr Davenport's possessions. In all of the houses we have visited nothing is done that cannot be scientifically supported as historically accurate. When we looked at the selection of wallpapers it was hard to believe. The entry and hallways were a brick pattern that would not look real even in the dimmest candlelight. The parlor was garish yellow and orange, intended to replicate French wall draperies. The other hard to believe fact involved the dining room furniture. After every meal the table and all of the chairs were moved against the wall. Only a family with slaves would move the furniture out and back three times a day every day!
A short stroll around the corner and down a block we entered the Owens-Thomas House. This was a large step up the social ladder. No expense was spared, beginning with the hire by Mr. Richardson of William Jay of Bath as the architect. Mr. Richardson's name does not grace the house because he monetarily overextended, a recession hit, and the bank foreclosed before he family moved in. Echoes of a recent modern housing crisis.
This English Regency house, built between 1816 and 1819, had flush toilets, running water, and a shower. As an additional way to impress visiting society, the house featured fireplaces throughout. Nothing so special in that, except for the fact that these fireplaces were fueled by coal, which everyone in society would be well aware had to be shipped across the Atlantic from good old England. Symmetry was one of the most important elements of the design so there are false doors and windows to maintain balance. The most unique feature is the second floor bridge built to give access to the back half of the second floor without creating two parallel hallways.
By now we were sated with historical houses and walked back to our hotel before dinner on the wharf.
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