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Charleston is a city
steeped in its own civil war culture. They downplay the parts of their
history that derive from slave ownership, such as the incredible wealth
the plantations brought in, but it is evident -- you couldn't completely
ignore the facts of their history and still have the soul of Charleston
as it is today.
My sister is a manager at a little restaurant called 82 Queen, which specializes in Low County food. We ate some of the best food I've had in years, and not in the miniscule portions you'll find in NYC restaurants, either. The portions were real and the taste was unreal! I am astounded that my own sister works at such a fine establishment. I know they have stiff competition, but I hope they continue to do well and prosper.
Since my sister does work there and was off that night, one of the owners was filling in as the front of house manager. He seemed like a very pleasant guy and comped us the meal, which I really appreciate very much, as money is certainly tight right now.
There's
so much to see and do in Charleston, I'd like to spend a month just
roaming and sampling.
After dining at 82 Queen, Becca took Kristen and I over to a wine bar she frequents. I'm not a wine-lover myself, but can appreciate the variety and distinctiveness of what was offered. And, hell, they had Guinness (black can) and it was properly served; so I was happy. Becca commented I wasn't drinking very much; but the meal had more than filled me up. There was some weird guy there who seemed real interested in my trip; but when I started asking questions of him, he took off fast. Huh.
After spending the night
on Becca's couch, during which I shooed her cat Fonzie off me a dozen
times, we went to get breakfast at another local place with an extensive
wine list. The breakfast was very nice, but as we chose to sit outdoors,
the flies eventually found us. After we were done, we sat at the bar enjoying
an impromptu wine-tasting. Turns out a representative of a certain French
wine was there and Becca knew him, of course, from his visits to her restaurant.
I had already noted how similar to New Orleans most of Charleston seemed, including its French Quarter. Somehow, though, I think I like Charleston's better. We took a carriage ride through a route that goes through the old battery and past some of the most well-known old houses.
Now, Charleston has some laws pertaining to permissible architecture and what can and can't be changed. Mostly, if something's over 75 years old, you MUST keep it in original condition, like it or not. New buildings must conform to the area's architecture on the outside, though the inside can be nearly anything. And no building can be higher than the tallest church steeple.
So in general Charleston is a city built close to the ground. I saw mostly three-story places and a few four-story. And there aren't many basements because the whole city is built on sand and the water would come right in. One wonders, given the challenges of originally settling the area, how it worked at all. But where the army goes, so will civilization I suppose. Charleston is very proud of Ft. Sumter out in the bay as well as the other historical military installations.
If you're ever in the area, I encourage you to visit. I didn't want to spend too long there, however, as I felt the need to get back home. My journey had been long and I was already almost a week late. So, after the breakfast and carriage ride, I packed up and headed for New York at last.
