Starting a new day in the breakfast room of a chain hotel, with a choice of processed and sweetened selections spread out ready to be carried away on plastic plates with plastic cutlery and coffee in cardboard cups. We spoke to nobody else, and talked about the huge contrast with breakfast routines at good B&Bs like the one we had stayed at in Charleston; how we missed not only the freshly cooked, good quality, hot food served on china plates, but even more so missed the mix of conversation around the communal table or across the room with fellow travellers from other parts of the country or other parts of the world.
Post breakfast, we set off to the rendezvous point for yet another walking tour; this one called the Savannah Stroll. Our guide was Jasmine, a short black girl with a very un-svelte figure, highlighted dreadlocks, a huge smile, and a wonderfully expressive voice. Surprisingly, as other guides and groups set off from the same point, our 'group' comprised of only Jasmine and us.
It seems impossible to turn any corner in Savannah without seeing the word SCAD on signs, posters, buildings or vehicles. We realized soon after arrival yesterday that this stood for Savannah College of Art & Design, a major big-deal entity in the city in terms of not just arts education, but also purchase and restoration off historic buildings. Jasmine took us into a theatre that SCAD had elaborately refurbished and which is now used as a general performance & presentation space for musicals, live theatre and film. As we left the building, Jasmine's phone rang and she was informed that two latecomers were on their way to join us. Two actually meant three, as the mother had a four-month baby swaddled to her and the father was pushing an enormous empty stroller. They dawdled behind our original trio, lagged even further behind because of trying to negotiate narrow openings, steps and buildings with the stroller, added to which the father was concentrating on the screen of his phone the majority of the time. Part way through the walk the mother abandoned us because the baby needed feeding, and eventually the father plus stroller combo also dropped out.
We found it interesting listening to Jasmine's various descriptions of Savannah history, Revolutionary and Civil War happenings, and religious turmoils, to realize her obvious fascination with the spirit world; not just the spooky possibilities of ghosts of historical figures to amuse or entertain visiting tourists, but it seemed her beliefs in spirits and their spiritual actions were more real.
Following another large lunch, we wandered southwards to Forsyth Park for an arts festival put on by, you'll never guess...... SCAD of course! The main component comprised an art competition of pastel work on the hundreds of large (perhaps 2'x3' or 3'x4') flagstones forming the park's pathways. Rows of adjacent pastel works in vivid colors on both sides of every walkway by SCAD students, with a large throng of people slowly oozing through the middle. A big turnout for an annual event, but rather disappointing from our viewpoint. So we headed off to make the final tour of the Mercer House.
The focus of the Mercer House tour is to highlight the amazing accomplishments of his life as an art collector and historian and a restorer of the old homes of Savannah, not to discuss murder, trials, and juicy gossip. His resume of owning an antique shop at fifteen, buying his first Savannah home to restore at twenty-one and being instrumental in the restoring of seventy homes is quite impressive. The tour is restricted to the first floor because the rest of the house is still occupied by his sister.
Dinner at the Sapphire Grill rivals any of the meals we ate in Charleston. I must quit eating like this soon before I explode.
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