I am sitting in one of the parlors of the "Savannah Pensione" after an afternoon of purusing shops and cobblestoned streets. Its spring break season so there are a lot college students around the city for the annual ultimate frisbee tournaments. That is what brought me to Georgia for the first time several years ago. This year our location was chosen by driving distance. Anything under twenty hours is feasible in the Cooper family. Just pop in a book on tape (this year it is "Johnny Tremain") and let the hum of the highway miles lull you to sleep on your shift off from being the driver.
Now I must interject some news on the weather, as is customary in all travel entries. It is sunny here but cool and crisp overall. Spring is just nudging the winter out of its way. There is a cool breeze that lifts your skirt, which leggings keep from being a disasterous occurence. The sun squares along would be enough to keep me in this city. They peek through the tree branches dripping with moss.
Today we visited the Savannah College of Art and Design, where our cousin Anna works. I have a nerdy love of college campuses so was eager to see the layout of the art school. But there is no true campus. Instead a series of buildings scattered througout the city. The buidlings are all individually lovely, but I still love having acres of building surrounding private green lawns and squares. The "shopSCAD" was inspiring. Apparently students and alumni from the school create works to sell at this little shop. It's not high-brow art, but instead hand crafted works like fabric picture frames, purses, shirts, and all kinds of ingenious small pieces. I was encouraged to find that some of the things I make (and have shown on my blog) would fit in well there.
The Savannah Pensione is the only hostel in Savannah. It's a beautiful old house built in 1884. You can see the picture I included. We are staying in the carriage house in the back. All the floors are wood and there are massive windows everyone where with staircases and porches. It doesn't take much to imagine southern belles in massive dresses waltzing about. The building is in an overall state of disrepair. It has lent us to much imagining about how we would transform the building. Oh how I would love to get an old house to fix up!
The owner of the house is a mysterious man. My sister and I have decided that we would use the words demure, reticent and listless to describe him. However these words seems a bit overboard when you find his name is simply Brian. Unless it is Walther Brian Kensington III. We each made up stories about why he seems so sad. My story involved him being the lower middle child of a family of 10, forced to withdraw into himself by a verbally abusive stressed out mother. Anne-Marie's story invovled the disappointing end of a high profile career that left him in a CIA witness protection program. Either way it is quite adventurous.
Well, enough writing for now. Tonight we dine. Tomorrow we go to the beach. Sometime this week we put the cherry on the top by visiting local thrifting establishments. It shall be grand!
More to come...