charleston, sc - feb 19-21, 2006
That St. Valentine guy has been making things difficult for many years . . . at least if you're a dude. Expectations are high and it's fairly easy to disappoint . . . I should know! But this year, at least, I think I passed the test because on the weekend after Valentine's Day, McLean and I spent a couple of days in the romantic city of Charleston, SC.
Charleston is a place I had only read about in high school history books. You know - the place where some dude somehow blew a cannonball towards a fort and declined the country into four years of civil war. (I bet he felt pretty dumb, eh?) Regardless, I had driven within an hour of Charleston on trips to Florida in the past but never had good reason to jog east. But alas, Valentine's Day seemed like a good occassion to visit a city that's going on 400 years old.
We took the short three hour drive from Charlotte to Charleston on Sunday the 19th, taking advantage of the Prez Day holiday to extend our weekend. Our first stop in Charleston wasn't really in Charleston, but across the Cooper River at the Patriot Point Naval and Maritime Museum. Permanently anchored at Patriot Point are three ships (aircraft carrier Yorktown, destroyer Laffey, Coast Guard cutter Ingham) and a cold war submarine, the Clamagore. We spent a good two hours aboard the Yorktown exploring every nook and cranny they'd let us in. It was my first time on a carrier and it wasn't disappointing. The sub was cool too, albeit very small. At that point, McLean had about enough of Navy life so we only took a cursory glance at the other two ships.
After the shipyard, we headed back across the river to historic Charleston and our hotel, the French Quarter Inn. At check-in they offered complementary champagne, and from 5-6 each evening, they roll out a spread of wine, cheese and crackers. (Is there any question why this place is named after the French?) After sampling some frommage, we cleaned up and headed to a nearby Irish restaurant where McLean went for the low country staple of shrimp and cheese grits. Tasty! Dinner was followed by the entertainment of an Irish duo spinning out Irish jigs between gulps of Guiness and an occasional "Brilliant!" from the audience. Witty lyrics and a perpetual string of toe-tapping Celtic beats had everyone in the restaurant hoisting their frosty mugs well past our midnight departure. Upon arrival back at the hotel room, we found our sheets turned back, soft cotton robes on the bed and a praline cookie for each on the pillows. Brilliant!
We awoke Monday morning to a rap on the door and a high-pitched voice announcing "Housekeeping. Housekeeping?" (Okay, maybe not the latter). She wasn't actually housekeeping, but room service delivering our morning tray of juice, fruits and pastries. Morning room service is included at the French Quarter Inn and it's a wonderful thing.
Following breakfast, we headed out to explore the city. In the process we took a million pictures of historic houses, chuches, signs, foliage . . . you name it. The weather was overcast so the photos aren't of gallery quality, but Charleston does its best to make anyone a professional. There are thousands of inspiring scenes just waiting to be captured. In addition to the historic sites, there are a bazillion boutique shops, plus other well known chain stores to browse. I'd normally say that shopping was McLean's favorite part of any trip, but I think the food may have won out this time. Still, shopping made a strong showing.
Speaking of food, for lunch we each had a bowl of shecrab soup. I'd never heard of it before arriving in Charleston, and even now I'm not exactly sure what's in it, but wow, that's some good stuff. If you ever find yourself in Charleston or even Savannah, GA, seek some of this stuff out and give it a try. It's like the southeast's version of a clam chowder bowl. Yummy.
Monday evening we elected to take a tour of the supposedly haunted Old City Jail, a place where inmates were once housed (and sometimes died) for various transgressions. From the outside this was a castle looking place with bars on the windows. The inside was dark and humid and sounds echoed throughout the three story building. Our guide relayed tales of slamming doors, screams and unexplained lights. All the while, McLean snapped off photos of the darkness hoping to capture "orbs" - proof of spirits within the building. The tour was interesting, but nothing exciting happened and though McLean would like to tell you that she did in fact capture some orbs, it seems to be only the stray reflection of an outside street light. I suppose in the end it's just as well nothing happened since I can't even sit through "Scream" without finding an excuse to leave the room.
We checked out of the hotel Tuesday morning and headed back across the Cooper River to Sullivan's Island, the site of Ft. Multrie, a sister site to Ft. Sumter. Ft. Sumter is accessible only by boat, and though historically significant, isn't much of a site anymore. Given that, Ft. Multrie seemed like a better stop. The fort was used from Revolutionary times through World War II, so there was a lot to check out. Everything from Civil War gunpowder storage rooms to German U-boat surveillance equipment can be found on the site. Under the fort are tunnels connecting various bunkers and rooms. Thick steel doors and ventilation equipment haunt back to a time when fears of an east coast ambush by German subs prevailed.
Following our fort tour it was time to head back to Charlotte. One quick stop to mail a postcard and three hours later we were back at home sweet home. Charleston lived up to the hype I had heard from friends and coworkers and I'm sure we'll return before too long. In the meantime, here's hoping McLean can whip up a batch of shecrab soup! Thanks, St. Valentine!
