Spring Break: Charleston & Savannah with Kim & Janet
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Spring Break! You’d think we were college students, but no, Janet is a teacher so this is when we can get away. And get away we did, to one of our favorite places—Charleston, SC—this time with a side trip to Savannah, GA.
A few weeks before, we decided to eschew the possibility of a cruise, and looked into booking at one of the lah-de-dah establishments in the heart of old Charleston. But we were drawn back to the Holiday Inn on Calhoun Street partly by the lower prices, but mostly by the opportunity to be guided by our favorite person in town, the famous Kevin McQuade, concierge extraordinaire. You will find an account of our first meeting with Kevin in January 2008 in my post here, and my review on Trip Advisor (a great travel resource).
Kevin has become an institution. He must be made of steel, or brick, or something very substantial, because otherwise he would be dead from overwork. He clearly loves his job. He is regularly doing 12-14 hour days and he is always “on.” This time, I sent him an email telling him we had booked, and he was soon on the phone with me to set up a conference with us both.
The conference call lasted about an hour, and in that time we arranged—for four days in Charleston and Savannah—four tours, a cooking class, and three dinner reservations. He took care of it all. And in the middle of it our daughter came home, was introduced on the phone, and received 15 minutes of free expert advice for her upcoming trip to Barcelona and Lisbon. Can’t beat that with a stick.
So on Sunday, March 28 we set off at about 7 AM (needed to reach Charleston by 5 PM to catch Kevin, as he was taking a couple of days off, leaving the concierge duties in the hands of the capable Natalie). The notation in my calendar says, “Leisurely 9 hour drive with My Honey 
.” FYI, the return trip on Friday shows, “Long miserable slog home with the ol’ Ball & Chain:-(“ but let’s not get into that any further . . .
Rolled into Chucktown (Charleston’s nickname) about 4:30, checked into our very nice room (half the price of the other establishments) and went down to the lobby. Helped ourselves to free lemonade and cookies while waiting for Kevin—we were third in line at that time—and spent 45 minutes or so talking to the others while he worked with some new clients. We smiled to hear the wonder in their voices as once again, he hit the sweet spot. Like the Pinball Wizard, we’ve never seen him fall. Meanwhile, the line built up behind us. You see, on every floor and in every room there is a sign saying something like, “10 Reasons To See The Concierge” or “What Is The Most Important Thing You Should See In Charleston That 95% of Visitors Miss? Ask the Concierge.” And his services are free. No wonder he has a line.
We thought he’d be handing us a few tickets from our already-booked tours and things, but au contraire, he sat us down and got on the phone to reconfirm all the reservations (making sure we had just the right table), while going over our “non-Kevin” list of things we wanted to do to see where he might be able to offer suggestions. And he did. He handed us half a dozen printed cards with directions and suggestions for each restaurant’s best dishes; maps for each day; and other ideas as varied as what to wear where, to make sure we went to the bathroom before the house tours (hand notation on my calendar, “pee first”), to bring ziplocks for shells on the lighthouse tour, and so on. Made a lunch reservation at another nice restaurant while doing that. Saved us the price of the Middleton Place tour by having us show up for our 7 PM dinner reservation at 5:30, so we got to tour for free—with a drink from the bar in hand.
When we left for dinner (Hank’s Seafood) at 7:15 he was still there with a line. When we returned at 9 PM or so, he was just finishing up. Kevin is a treasure. He should have his own private listing on Trip Advisor. Good people of Charleston, take care of him.
On Monday we were up to visit the home of Nathan & Kara Delpino in Daniel Island, an attractive suburb of Charleston between the Cooper and Wando Rivers. The homes are really nice and the Delpino’s is quite attractive. Apparently Kara is a designer of some talent! Nathan is the elder son of Joe and Pam Delpino—Janet’s coworker—who were there babysitting with their granddaughter Ava. Ava went out to lunch with us, bringing along her shovel to which she is very attached. She left her lamb at home, but the shovel come along.
We had a 2:00 demonstration class at Charleston Cooks, so we had to hustle back downtown. Charleston Cooks is a kitchen store owned by Maverick Southern Kitchens, who are also the owners of several terrific restaurants in the area (more about them later). We also had to pick up tickets for our Home Tour and Garden Tour. Not sure about seating for the kitchen demo, we split up at the store with Kim fast-walking four blocks to pick up the tickets, which turned out to be $180 worth of wristbands. Wristbands safely ensconced in his papers (it’s coming . . .), Kim hurried back, and arrived (with shin splints) just in time for the last seat.
Our instructor, Emily Kimbrough, showed us how to make sauteed shrimp & grits—but the grits were cut in squares enfolding cheese. They were accompanied by sweet potato shortbread with blueberry/strawberry compote, and served with a nice wine. I drank Janet’s too, which further encouraged me to learn Emily’s favorite phrase, “awwwwwright!,” which she repeated often in an endearing drawl that I could only get close to right after many attempts. Janet told me to cut it out, and she paid me back by purchasing a number of things at the store.
Later that day, we were preparing for the home tour—8 of Charleston’s oldest and fanciest—when I discovered that (here it comes . . .) the all-important wristbands were GONE! The papers in which they were carried hurriedly to the store were there, but the wristbands had fallen out. Shin splints for naught. However, Charleston is a civilized place, and a return visit to the Historic Charleston office pleading complete and utter stupidity on my part secured us replacements.
So off we went to the tour, which is self-guided and start-anywhere. There are docents at each home, and guides in the streets. South of Broad Street there is little if any commercial activity, so walking around is absolutely easy and safe. The homes on the tour were built between 1770 and 1900 and restored (with the exception of modern kitchens!). Charleston is unique among southern cities in that it’s historical preservation began earlier and so it has a lot of homes from the Georgian and Federal periods still in use.
We finished the tour about 8:30 and called our rickshaw guys to come pick us up. Oh, did we tell you about rickshaws? They are three-wheeled contraptions like a bike with a loveseat attached, used like taxis. There are several licensed rickshaw/pedicab services in Charleston, usually operated by College of Charleston students. It’s a good city for them because it’s so flat. We have grown to love them because it can be tiring walking everywhere (especially with Janet’s perpetual plantar fasciitis and my shin splints), so we used them for some of the longer trips. We finished off the evening with a pizza at Mellow Mushroom.
Next day, we hit Virginia’s on King for breakfast (meh), then headed off to James Island for our boat trip out to Morris Island, where there the sixth oldest lighthouse in the US is still standing. It’s not in service—it can’t even be reached by land because of erosion—but the beach is well stocked with shells. It’s also the site of Fort Wagner from the Civil War movie Glory. Our guide was the intrepid Captain Gresh Meggett.
That evening we headed for Middleton Place, a ruined mansion but absolutely spectacular gardens, and a wonderful restaurant. Check out the pics. Too bad the azaleas were a week late because of the cold winter! On our arrival, we were cordially greeted at the car door by a small calico cat, who guided us to the restaurant entrance. After our tour and meal, the same kitty met us as we left, and escorted us safely back to our car. Good thing because just as we got there, we heard a bobcat howl.
Wednesday was set aside for Savannah—but on the way, Kevin suggested we stop at some church ruins near Beaufort, SC. Right, like we’ve never seen ruins . . . Janet was dragged all over England several times looking at ruins in her youth. But it was Kevin, so we stopped, and of course we are glad we did. Pretty spectacular. The old Sheldon Church was built around 1750, burnt down by the Brits in 1779, rebuilt in 1826, and re-burnt by Sherman’s troops in 1865. There is one service a year on the grounds, on the second Sunday after Easter. Kevin’s story—he once took a date there, but when after 10 minutes she started asking what was for dinner, he knew she was not “the one.”
On to Savannah, with free parking at the Mulberry Inn courtesy of Kevin. This is a bigger deal than one might think because parking in historic Savannah is not for the faint of heart. Or the short of wallet.
Kevin recommended the Savannah Dan Walking Tour. Dan is a former Savannah police officer and radio personality who has found his niche (and better hours, no doubt) as a tour guide. Dan told us the story of meeting Kevin, first on the phone where he was grilled for an hour, then in person when Kevin took his tour—with a clipboard and some oddball questions.
But Dan’s was the best Savannah tour Kevin enjoyed, so now he sends Dan several clients each week. We learned a great deal about the founding of Savannah and the people who made it, and even were graced with a visit from Forrest Gump along the way. After the tour we were thinking fried chicken at Mrs. Wilkes Boarding House, but after seeing the looong line of other tourists, we took Dan’s suggestion and stopped in at Leopold’s for a great sandwich and a milkshake!
We toured several of the great streets and squares of Savannah, which unlike Charleston was purposefully laid out as a city (rather like Washington without the diagonals). Oddly enough, though, Janet and I, who both tend to prefer organization over chaos, think that the more higgledy-piggledy Charleston is more to our liking.
On the way back to Charleston, Janet satisfied her Dillard’s craving with a stop at Citadel Mall (yes, Kevin had whipped out an index card with directions) while Kim napped in the car. This was an omen of things to come—evidently the warmest day for us in six months, combined with an early rising and a lot of driving and walking, had created a somnolent effect on us. Kim was the first to nod off (after passing the wheel to Janet an hour out of Savannah), but when we got back to the hotel we lay down for a “nap” but conked out for the night.
Thursday morning we indulged ourselves with a light room service breakfast, knowing we would be lunching at SNOB (Slightly North Of Broad—a reference to the fact that Broad Street is the dividing line between the commercial/civic part of Charleston and the exclusive residential/historic area south of Broad) and having dinner at High Cotton. These restaurants, across the street from each other and next to Charleston Cooks, are both part of the Maverick Southern Kitchens group I mentioned earlier. In the northern Virginia area, they might be compared with the Great American group (Mike’s, Carlyle, Sweetwater Tavern, Coastal Flats, etc.). Charleston was home to a campus of Johnson & Wales University, acclaimed for culinary arts (e.g., graduates Emeril Lagasse, Tyler Florence) until 2004 when they consolidated two campuses in Charlotte NC; now it is home to the Culinary Institute of Charleston. Thus, food is a Big Deal in town, and lunch was delightful.
In between, we were set up for another walking tour sponsored by the Historic Charleston folks (yes, the other wristbands, which Janet had safely stowed in a zippered pocket of her wallet)—this time it was 10 of Charleston’s glorious gardens.
As noted earlier, the azaleas were a little late, but the camellia were still in bloom instead—not that it made much difference, because the both the gardens and the weather were indeed glorious. Here are a few pics, but they are not all mine because on-property photos are verboten on the tour. We hooked up with a woman from Minneapolis who was having some trouble with her directions, and later we treated her to her first rickshaw ride (Janet sat on my lap, and even with three of us the driver managed to pass most of the traffic).
High Cotton for dinner was an adventure. Kevin landed us a table on the back platform overlooking the floor. Janet was in heaven with her rack of lamb and braised brussel sprouts, and while she was busy with that I managed to drink two glasses of wine and most of hers as well. We noticed the sommelier with another couple across the room who we suspected we had spoken with at lunch, and when he stopped by our table we ascertained that it was indeed the same folks. Later, when our check arrived, we found they had bought our wine. A nice end to our last day.
As we were leaving the hotel the next morning, Kevin was arriving, and he started his day’s work with us. He pumped us for our views on the things we had seen and done to add to his considerable store of knowledge about what to suggest to others. We hope to see him again soon. We knew that the “long, miserable slog home” lay ahead, so we made the best of it by hitting up Hominy Grill for breakfast on the way out of town. Just had to have one last sausage biscuit.
Yes, it’s true, we went to the b-i-i-i-g city. We have the photos to prove it. And you are going to see some of them.
I was going to book a hotel in Midtown near the theater, but one of Janet’s friends suggested a small chain called Affinia. I found the 
We had a junior suite on the 28th floor with a full kitchen and an executive desk setup, not to mention a corner view with the Chrysler Building out one window and the East River out the other. I felt like a big shot sitting there in my corner office. We admired a building across the street with nice gardens on some of the upper floors. At first we thought it was an exclusive condo, but it turned out to be the US headquarters and conference facility for Opus Dei (remember 
The 
On Monday, Janet went to the ten-floors-of-shopping Macy’s at Herald Square, while I got in some exercise at the hotel gym (very nice, by the way). Janet had the forethought to be carrying the camera and took some pictures of Macy’s annual Flower Show, in between marveling at a whole floor dedicated to Petites and buying at least two pairs of shoes.
Monday evening we took Brendan’s advice and checked out 
After dinner, we went to find the 
Tuesday we decided to check out some of the NY cultural scene and visited the 
It was so cold, though, we wound up heading back to the hotel for a nap – but not before we stopped by 
Finally, we saw the show that was the purpose of our visit – 
Last but not least, on Wednesday we braved the snow, wind and cold in New York Harbor to pay our respects to 
Ellis Island was the point through which about 12 million immigrants, chiefly European, passed between 1892 and 1924, probably the greatest period for immigration in US history. (Restrictive quotas limited immigration after that time, and the processing moved to embassies and consulates overseas.) These were the third-class and steerage passengers on the steamships – the “rich” first- and second-class passengers were cleared to enter by the time the ships docked in New York, while the hordes of poorer folk were ferried to Ellis Island to undergo a number of screening tests to ensure they would not be “likely to become a public charge.” I know my grandparents were admitted from Denmark in 1909, but I could not find them in the Ellis Island records – it’s possible they had money enough to avoid it, but I wouldn’t have guessed that. About 100 million Americans can now trace their ancestry to Ellis Island. In the current immigration-unfriendly atmosphere, that’s amazing.
Themocracy