Charleston isn’t real. It’s too pretty. Too clean. Too polite. I pinched myself but it was still there. I pinched myself again but people started to stare and lead their children across the street.
Walking through Charleston is like stepping into a book or a movie. It seems completely unnatural to see regular people out and about on the streets. Where are the lace gloves and parasols? The women belong in corsets and the men in pressed suits with bow ties and perfectly coiffed hair. I looked down at my black tee shirt and jeans and couldn’t help but feel a little impolite. Especially when a girl walked by and nearly stepped in a puddle. I didn’t have a jacket to drape over it. Fortunately, I improvised and took off my pants.
Here are pictures: (of Charleston. Not of me without pants.)
In the center of town is a series of open-air market buildings. During Antebellum, slave ships would dock nearby. The shackled African people were led into the market buildings and sold off into slavery.
Today, the market is filled with vendors hawking everything from fake Oakleys to crystal paperweights engraved with unicorns, butterflies and Confederate flags.
Only in America.
Here are a few shots from Charleston market:
In the evening, Natty did her best Baywatch impression, posing for some glamour shots on the beach.
FOOD UPDATE: Lunch was at Aw Shucks, chosen entirely because the name is Aw Shucks.
We split fried green tomatoes, steamed clams and steamed oysers.
Then I had the Charleston specialty – shrimp and grits.
Dinner was at a greek place called Zeus Grill and Seafood.
Lemon Chicken soup
Hummus
And a mixed kabob thing with chicken, beef and shrimp.
Walk a mile in my underpants 