Savannah, the place I have been desperate to go to for at least three years since I read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.  Although different to what I expected, it did not let me down.  Day 37 was spent trekking around South Carolina and going to dinner at my road tripster’s sister’s house where one of the highlights of the evening was being called ‘Miss’ .  But there was no time to be wasted on the night of day two, especially since I’d had such poor drinking performance on day one.  So I settled for Amy Schumer on the comedy network and waited in anticipation for the next day.

But who would have known that such a delight as South of the Border would suddenly appear like an Oasis in the crosslines.  A kitsch place that glows neon in the night and sells nothing but the utmost crap that you could buy anywhere in the world in a gift store.  It was amazing.  Built on the borders of North and South Carolina for no reason other than there is literally nothing else there and people needed a job, Genius.  My one regret was that I didn’t stay the night in the motel there.  We really screwed up on that one.

South of the Border

As we approached Savannah and River Street, I was a bit nervous.  It looked nothing like I had thought and there were a lot of tourists in the way.  How dare they have the same idea as us for a Memorial Day Weekend?  But the fear and concern melted away when we reached the River Street Inn.  One of the loveliest hotels I have ever had the pleasure to stay in.  It was unlike a corporate W or Hilton and had its own Southern Charm.  The place felt like a huge house with a courtyard in the middle and guest wings to the side.  It wasn’t that expensive and I felt like I was in a palatial home.  The rooms were spacious with antique furnishings, seating areas and even an honesty bar of snacks and drinks which I had never come across.  I honestly ate a Snickers for breakfast.

So my roadster friend was nearly falling out of his skin with excitement that he could drink on the street so this became the main mission for the evening.  I hadn’t even realized no one did drink on the streets anywhere, which makes me think that I must usually do it.  So off we set.  I have no sense of direction and get lost turning around, so always need someone around who does.  Even on a grid system I have a problem so my friend led the way round the similar squares of Savannah.

But there’s something about the place; something in the air.  I still can’t quite put my finger on it.  It almost looks a bit Disney in places but you can tell that chances are behind closed mansion doors there has been debauchery and deliciousness to boot.  A hidden way of  life behind a white iron fence. Doors closed to you but know that if you are in you will probably sin. I had a feeling Savannah knew how to party.

Street Busker Echo

We ended up where most travellers do at the start, in an Irish pub.  When the local busker came along and sat down with his steel stringed guitar I was pleasantly surprised until he said his name was Echo and then all hearts sank including his.  We did make him repeat it a few times – but the joke failed.  After my Margarita of nuclear strength we marched on to find we had spent too long dilly dallying and food was needed.  In a drunk state I am highly impressed I ended up with an amazing three course meal but I’m afraid I can’t tell you where as I was in a drunk state until five am.  On the street mostly and a whiskey bar. A messy day one in Savannah.