It's day two and the grinding Siege of Charleston shows no signs of breaking. Say what? It's already over? Ah, that explains why the Stars and Stripes is flying instead of the Union Jack. Should have known those Pommies would roll over, just like their rugby team.
Jolly good old sport, the Redcoats beat such a hasty retreat they left behind their morning tea.
Angel Oak is a living legend in these parts, and he doesn't even play in the SEC. Reputed to be over 1,500 years old, the giant tree is so big it's slowly imploding under it's own weight into a spiderweb of branches that mostly slither along the ground.
It's just like Avatar, except without the annoying Aussie and the sappy let's-all-hug-a-tree-and-then-go-for-botox Hollywood sermon. Oh, and the chick doesn't have blue skin either, what a turn-off.
Next stop, uhm, Rue de Peach? Savannah, Georgia is about as far from the snarky Northeastern stereotype of alligator-wrestling rednecks as you can get. Even the haughty New York Times deigned to publish a 36 Hours in Savannah. And now Savannah's rebirth is complete with a coveted J00ster write up. Welcome to the big leagues!
Savannah's trademark squares, scattered every few blocks throughout the city, are an oasis from the sticky humidity. The Spanish moss draped over almost every tree literally sucks the moisture right out of the air. Just like this blog sucks the life right out of the internet.
Go anywhere in hipster America these days and you'll find the bloody Aussies got there first. The Collins Quarter is a classic Melbourne cafe that could have been teleported right off of Little Collins Street. In fact it was.
It takes a brave Australian to take on America at their own game. But hey, if Jarryd Hayne can do it, why not? With a dazzling avocado smash and silky flat white handling skills you'll make the roster in no time.
If you ignore the cars, and the non-corseted lady, you wouldn't be able to place what century you're in.
Unlike most of America, Savannah is the kind of town you can actually walk around. Nothing like being 300 years ahead of the curve.
When they said southern belle, they may not have been talking about Guangzhou.
For the price of a Manhattan shoe box you can get a palace down here. Kind of makes you wonder if New Yorkers are really such savvy arbitrageurs after all.
Georgians love their peaches, especially when sipped as an iced tea on a breezy porch.
Just in case anyone thinks that too-big-to-fail is a recent invention, here's the Cotton Exchange. This street was once called the Wall Street of the South. You can probably guess how that ended.
Looks like someone is trying to ensnare one of those dapper cotton futures traders.
The Savannah waterfront was once the busiest Atlantic ports in the country. But then the boll weevil came along and ate all the cotton. Now the strip is dominated by tourists from the cruise ships eating all the burgers.
In most of middle America the Greyhound bus terminal on the outskirts of town is the place you end up at when you're (a) running from something, usually the law; (b) stoned; or (c) both of the above. Not in Savannah. The Grey, a new-Southern restaurant in a reclaimed Greyhound bus terminal is the hottest ticket in town.
Now boarding from gate 2, the overnight express to irony, skinny jeans, and hand-crafted bitters.
There's more to Southern fusion than dipping your biscuit in gravy.
Because this is the south, life is divided into eating and getting ready to eat. Wiley's Championship BBQ is, like The Grey, hidden away in the most unexpected of places, in this case a nondescript strip mall.
One quickly learns not to judge a pitmaster by his shopfront.
When preparing for a siege it's always wise to stop by Wiley's on the way to pick up the cannonballs.
Fort Pulaski was the site of a 112 day siege during the Civil War, which only ended after an epic 30 hour bombardment by Union troops from the surrounding marshes. These days they could just cut the broadband cable and have an unconditional surrender within the hour.
The Avenue of Oaks at Boone Hall plantation is perhaps most famous for featuring in Gone with the Wind.
And here comes Clark Gable.
Boone Hall Plantation offers a glimpse of what life was like in a different world, where a fragile veneer of civilization for the lucky few was built on the the misery of many. The contrast between the spartan slaves' quarters and the glorious antebellum mansion is a stark reminder of troubled times, the echos of which still linger over 150 years later.
Frankly my dear, I could go for some fired chicken.
This was before they told us the swamp is absolutely teeming with alligators.
Back in Charleston, the uber-hip Zero George hotel offers guests the chance to see what life was like in one of the city's fabulous town houses.
Peach tea anyone?
Butler, I'll take my fried chicken on the porch, thanks.
So this is what life was like for the Masters of the cotton trading Universe? Then, just like today, a little bug is all it takes to bring down the market. But who cares, down here a knock on the door from the SEC means Saban wants your kid's signature.
