Savannah’s Sticky Secrets: A Sweat-Drenched Mess
okay, so i’m pretty sure i’m running on caffeine and regret. i just got back from savannah, georgia, and honestly? it was… a lot. like, a humid, moss-covered, Spanish moss-draped a lot. the air felt like a wet blanket, and the pressure was sitting at 1007 - felt like my sinuses were trying to escape. it’s 18.22 and 18.21, temp_min is 17.12 and temp_max is 19.26. i just checked and it's...there right now, hope you like that kind of thing.
seriously, i’m not even sure where to start. i was supposed to be documenting the ‘authentic’ south, but i mostly documented myself sweating profusely and trying to avoid pigeons. my gear list is a disaster - my camera lens is probably covered in something vaguely organic, my boots are soaked, and i’m pretty sure i’ve developed a permanent sheen on my forehead.
first off, the humidity. it’s not just humid, it’s aggressive. it’s like the city is actively trying to drown you in moisture. i spent most of my time seeking out air conditioning, which, let’s be real, is a valid travel strategy.
i stumbled upon this little courtyard off Forsyth Park - it was tucked away behind a wrought-iron gate, and it felt like stepping into a forgotten movie set. someone told me that the fountain there is haunted by a Confederate soldier who lost a bet. i didn’t see any ghosts, but i did see a lot of mosquitos.
i spent an afternoon wandering through the City Market, dodging tourists and trying to find some decent fried green tomatoes. i heard that the best place to get them is at Mrs. Wilkes’ Dining Room, but the line was insane. i ended up grabbing a greasy slice of pizza from a street vendor - it was surprisingly good, considering.
speaking of locals, if you get bored, Charleston is just a short drive away. i met this guy, Silas, who runs a vintage record store. he was wearing a fedora and a Hawaiian shirt, and he had this incredibly cynical smile. he told me that savannah is “a beautiful lie,” which, honestly, felt pretty accurate.
Someone overheard me complaining about the heat and said, "Honey, you’re in Georgia. It’s always like this. Just embrace the swamp."
i tried to take some photos, but everything looked washed out and sweaty. my photography skills are currently at ‘functional,’ which isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement. i did manage to capture a decent shot of a magnolia tree - it was ridiculously photogenic, despite the humidity.
i also spent an evening at a blues bar on Bull Street. the music was loud, the drinks were cheap, and the atmosphere was… intense. i heard that the owner, a woman named Delilah, used to be a backup dancer for Elvis. she didn’t confirm or deny this, but she did give me a knowing wink.
here’s the deal: savannah is a weird place. it’s charming and decaying, beautiful and gritty, slow and frantic. it’s a city that wears its history on its sleeve, and it doesn’t care if you’re judging it. i’m not sure i fully understood it, but i definitely felt it.
*Pro-Tip: Wear light-colored clothing. Seriously. And bring a hat. And a portable fan. And maybe a hazmat suit.
Another Pro-Tip: Don’t trust anyone who tells you savannah is ‘Southern.’ It’s more complicated than that.
Local Warning:* Avoid the River Street bars after midnight. They’re full of college students and questionable decisions.
i’m heading to Asheville next, and i’m already dreading the humidity. but hey, that’s the life of a travel blogger, right? check out TripAdvisor for some decent restaurants: https://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurants-g61878-Savannah_Georgia.html and Yelp for some local haunts: https://www.yelp.com/directory/Savannah-GA. And if you're looking for some local events, check out this community board: https://www.savannahboard.com/. Seriously, don't be like me and show up without a plan.
honestly, i need a shower. and maybe a therapist. and definitely more coffee.