Savannah, Georgia

We didn't seem to know what day it was when we checked into the Thunderbird Inn in Savannah, but according to the counter agent, Bobby, it was Wednesday. Good to know, I suppose.

Two days in Savannah were definitely enough. It's a small town, not really a city, still very old in most parts, well-preserved, but difficult to penetrate, probably especially since it was over a hundred degrees out and nobody was on the streets.

We're both reading Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, set in Savannah amongst the old mansions and shaded city squares of the historic district. The book centres partly around events that took place in the Mercer-Williams House, and Thursday morning, we took a tour of it, marveling at the original oil paintings, marble busts and a real cheetah skin across the back of the sofa.

The Savannah College of Art and Design's student-run shop is nearby and we took a look, contemplating a wrought-iron lamp shaped like a bomb, hand-painted Kewpie statues, silk screened pillow cases. SCAD is everywhere in Savannah; student work is shown frequently and we saw some great pieces in the gallery across from Leopold's (a ninety-three year-old ice cream parlour that Adam obviously had to try).

The afternoon was too hot to be near cars and concrete, so we drove to Tybee Island's breezy beach and boardwalk. There's even a small science centre where we saw a little baby alligator! So tiny. Such a thrill!

Friday morning, we drove into Bonaventure Cemetery before leaving town. The grounds are nearly two hundred years old old; some of the headstones have cracked and dusty trails of Spanish moss hang parasitically from the branches of hundreds of oak trees. An eerie, forlorn good-bye to the secretive little town of Savannah.