Day 7, Jan. 27, Pt. 3, p.m.

 

This morning as I was doing my writing, I realized that I could catch the sunrise from the restaurant on the 15^th floor. I threw on my clothes without showering because I knew once dawn began, the sun would rise quickly. Ah, just in time to catch some nice photos. Then I settled in to have a real breakfast of buttermilk pancakes. Mmm, good and fat, great tasting, and I took my time over coffee and juice jotting down notes in my journal.

When more people began coming in, I headed back to my room. I wanted to write the second installment to the day and import, edit, and upload to Facebook some photos. I couldn’t find my water bottle so drank more coffee. The computer was slow. I couldn’t get the update to Flash player to install so the photo uploads to fb had to be done one at a time. While waiting for each upload, I straightened out the clothes in my suitcases and organized by state all the brochures I’d been picking up. (It feels like the pile weighs about 20 pounds.)

By noon, my hands were shaking from too much coffee. I’d been planning to take the 1:30 p.m. shuttle to the historic district and go for a carriage ride, but figured I’d better have lunch first. Maybe more food would stop the jitters. Look at me. I go days with eating very little, then I make up for it by chowing down.

They were serving a buffet and I had chili, pineapple and cantaloupe chunks, rice, corn, string beans and macaroni and cheese. I passed on the chicken wings, spare ribs, and beef stew. Oh, that food was so good. I’m not much of a chili eater, but this was excellent. While eating, I was jotting some notations in my journal. My hand was so shaky it doesn’t even look like my writing on the page. I went up for a second helping and as I finished filling my plate, the guy comes over and said that he’d be bringing desserts out shortly. Desserts?

By the time I finished eating, I was very full. No, I did not do dessert. I had just enough time to put my notebook back in the room, grab a sweater, and head to the lobby to get the shuttle. The driver was talkative and because I was the only passenger, he brought me right to the carriage area instead of dropping me off at the designated stop where I would have had to walk a couple blocks.

I paid my fee and was disappointed in seeing how full the carriages were with four abreast on a seat. The thought of being squished in with strangers was not appealing. Having a twenty minute wait, I chatted with the woman signing people in as at that point, she wasn’t busy. We talked about the business, the horses and being from the north (she was originally from northern Minnesota.) When it came time to board, she put me right up front in the corner with only two other people on the bench. That pleased me.

Around the corner on the next street, we had to make a stop. There are so many carriage tours that the city set up a system to keep some kind of order and so they are not all in the same areas. Another reason is so there is no favoritism as to what company gets what route. There’s a bingo like machine with the different routes and whatever ball pops up is the route that carriage takes. You would have to take numerous rides to see all the sights and there’s no guarantee that the next ride would be a different route. The drivers have no say in the routes they are given. It’s all by chance.

Charleston has interesting history. A lot of the houses are very narrow and tall. The guide explained the architectural style of the Charleston Single House. These are a single room across with a piazza on the south or west side. The main door is in the middle of the piazza. The door on the street is called a privacy door and when it’s closed, it means they are not entertaining. In times past, when men often wore wool and women wore petticoats and other layers, it would be so hot that they’d strip down when they got home and would sit out on the piazzas in their underclothes. The closed privacy doors kept neighbors and others from wandering hence why it was called a privacy door. When the occupants were ready to have company, they’d open the door.

This city has had hurricanes, tornadoes, and earthquakes sitting on the second largest fault in the country.

The tour guide also pointed out the crepe myrtle trees. The one I photographed yesterday is not barkless, but it called blonde bark and that usually has pink, yellow, or lavender flowers. The darker barked trees have white flowers.

The tour was over at 3:30. I was freezing by the last of it. There was a blanket on the seat, but the other two were using it. I needed to be at the shuttle stop at 3:30. The next one wouldn’t be until 5:30. I was cold. I walked to the corner of the stop not quite sure where I needed to be. I thought I was late and started to look in one of the open air shops. Not seeing anything at the first few stalls that caught my eye, I went back outside. Coming down the street was the Holiday Inn shuttle. I quickly crossed over and flagged him down.

This guy wasn’t talkative like the first, but again, I was the only passenger and asked periodic question. He was friendly enough and answered, but didn’t offer anything on his own. The stop where he picked me up was the first so I got to see more of the city as he went to the others. The second stop was at the Fort Sumter Visitor Education Center. To actually get to the fort, you have to take a boat as Fort Sumter is an island. I’d like to do that tomorrow. They say this is where the Civil War started.