Fiona Siobhan Powell
Folklorist ~ Storyteller
Folklorist ~ Storyteller
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SAVANNAH
There are some cities that no matter their reputation for loveliness, I have found that I
cannot wait to leave.
Some cities that, although they deserve their reputation, my heart cannot embrace.
And a few, rare places, that even after seeing their grimmer side, I wish I could stay
forever. Savannah is one of the latter.
In my few days in this jewel of Georgia, I saw poverty wander aimlessly next to wealth.
It is ever thus. Wherever there is wealth and beauty, there are those whose lives are spent
maintaining and cleaning up after it. But Savannah is one of those cities long used to the
contrast and thus appears to be kinder.
For my visit to Savannah, I chose not to hire a car. Allowing me to experience an
expensive taxi service, heavily populated by women. And a very inexpensive bus service,
that was efficient as well as friendly. And of course my usual joy, that of meandering about
the streets. There is so much that one can see in Savannah; including fine art museums,
and scenes from movies, such as Forrest Gump's bench, and the bird girl from “Midnight
In The Garden of Good and Evil”
But even on a “cold” December day (we were cautioned to wear our sweaters) the chief
delight was to wander into the squares and the little cafes; joining others who were sitting
reading, chatting, or simply absorbing the past. Savannah is a city with an interesting past.
There are some cities that no matter their reputation for loveliness, I have found that I
cannot wait to leave.
Some cities that, although they deserve their reputation, my heart cannot embrace.
And a few, rare places, that even after seeing their grimmer side, I wish I could stay
forever. Savannah is one of the latter.
In my few days in this jewel of Georgia, I saw poverty wander aimlessly next to wealth.
It is ever thus. Wherever there is wealth and beauty, there are those whose lives are spent
maintaining and cleaning up after it. But Savannah is one of those cities long used to the
contrast and thus appears to be kinder.
For my visit to Savannah, I chose not to hire a car. Allowing me to experience an
expensive taxi service, heavily populated by women. And a very inexpensive bus service,
that was efficient as well as friendly. And of course my usual joy, that of meandering about
the streets. There is so much that one can see in Savannah; including fine art museums,
and scenes from movies, such as Forrest Gump's bench, and the bird girl from “Midnight
In The Garden of Good and Evil”
But even on a “cold” December day (we were cautioned to wear our sweaters) the chief
delight was to wander into the squares and the little cafes; joining others who were sitting
reading, chatting, or simply absorbing the past. Savannah is a city with an interesting past.
The architecture both deliberate; as in the fine Colonial and Victorian houses and accidental; such as the cotton
warehouses; vibrates with that past.
I had the most amazing breakfast in a circa 1950’s diner outside the historic district. A small place with a mixed
clientele. I do mean mixed! Whilst we waited for available tables I chatted with a young white couple wearing a
matching costume of low slung jeans with baggy t shirts and a very sharply dressed middle aged African
American couple. The food was worth the wait! The grits; complimentary, the hash browns mixed with anything
you want; legendary, the waitress; charming to her toes.
I took a trolley ride around the historic district. It’s hard to know which trolley offers the best tour.
I chose on the criteria of the friendliness of the woman selling the tickets, in a city that is already full of friendly
folk. The trolley tour I took also offered a get-on / get-off and pick up service, which is useful when there is so
much to see. My driver was called Chuck and he loved his city. He based his guide around our interests, knew
all about the movies filmed in Savannah, and even though some of his folklore knowledge was shaky, his city
knowledge was fine.
During the tour, Chuck boasted of how “Irish” Savannah is; with one of the best St Patrick’s Day celebrations
in the country. The fact that he made that statement in the most celebrated street in Savannah; Jones Street (A
Welsh name) wasn’t lost on me!
Savannah may be an Irish city but it is also a Jewish city.
With the only purely Gothic style temple in the country, it has the country’s third oldest Jewish congregation.
The Temple has a Torah that dates back to 1733, and is one of the oldest ritual objects in Georgia.
And it’s a very African American city
The first African Baptist church is the oldest black church in the country, founded in 1733, and an integral part
of the Underground Railroad. One cannot help but wonder, as one sits in the pretty little cafes formed out of the
cotton warehouses of the dramas and sorrows those walls have seen.
It is a very Methodist city.
John Wesley spent two important years there, and it can be said that Methodism found it’s fertilizer in his
experiences with the Moravians …
Oh yes, it’s a very Moravian city.
In fact it is a city of religious tolerance, far more obviously, but with less hullabaloo than the city of “brotherly
love.”
It’s a very Welsh city.
With names such as Price, Jones, Owens, Thomas and Williams, and a number of red dragons gracing walls and
pub doors. But more than this,
Savannah is a cosmopolitan city.
Where one is in the easy south, but aware, as one steps onto River Street, that one is stepping on stones that
were used as ballast in ships. One is in fact treading on European stone set in American soil.
So European, Savannah is still, that the pavements rolled up at 6 pm on a winter’s Sunday night, and there was
nowhere local to sit and have coffee!
Forcing me to commit the tourist sin, of having to have coffee at ~ yes I’m sorry to say it: Starbucks.
My feelings about Starbucks are pretty well known to most of my friends. ~I avoid it.
But I was cold, I had my daughter and baby grandson with me, and the next bus wasn’t for an hour, so we
ventured in. As soon as I walked through the door, I completely lost where I was.
This is one of the reasons I dislike Starbucks! Not only do they all look much of a muchness, but the staff all
seemed to have been trained in the same school of pursed lip superiority. The friendliness of Savannah was left
outside, and we were in a world of confusion. And I resent the silly names that have replaced the perfectly
practical sizes. Instead of the practical small, medium, large, we have to face something like
“Pretendo; Fancythyself, and Grotesque-o”
The far too pretty boy behind the counter actually sneered at me when I was unsure of what exactly a “machi –
what- what” was (A type of car?). I just wanted the one thing that America is supposed to be famous at
providing. A decent cup of coffee for heaven’s sake! I didn’t get one! What I got was a mediocre tasting.
fashion statement. I sat and sadly assumed that my Savannah experience had passed.
I’m happy to say that the bus saved me!
We were joined at the bus stop by a wreck of a woman, who not only was blissfully unaware that mini skirts just
don’t look good when you are 60 and overweight ; but had also failed to notice that the back of her hair was
unbrushed. She was charming and regaled us in her cigarette fogged voice with stories from her ill-fated life.
The bus driver had a devil of a time getting around one of the squares, because somebody had parked their
SUV in a "no parking" zone. The bus stopped, and we all encouraged, guided and egged on the driver, until
she bravely tried to get past the SUV with a sigh and a promise from all of us, that if she DID hit the car, we
would all go into court to support her. When she finally squeaked by with only inches to spare, we all cheered,
and chattered. I was once again back in the warm embrace of the delightful city of Savannah.
The following day, as my plane took off. I actually wept.
Savannah is something to see!
warehouses; vibrates with that past.
I had the most amazing breakfast in a circa 1950’s diner outside the historic district. A small place with a mixed
clientele. I do mean mixed! Whilst we waited for available tables I chatted with a young white couple wearing a
matching costume of low slung jeans with baggy t shirts and a very sharply dressed middle aged African
American couple. The food was worth the wait! The grits; complimentary, the hash browns mixed with anything
you want; legendary, the waitress; charming to her toes.
I took a trolley ride around the historic district. It’s hard to know which trolley offers the best tour.
I chose on the criteria of the friendliness of the woman selling the tickets, in a city that is already full of friendly
folk. The trolley tour I took also offered a get-on / get-off and pick up service, which is useful when there is so
much to see. My driver was called Chuck and he loved his city. He based his guide around our interests, knew
all about the movies filmed in Savannah, and even though some of his folklore knowledge was shaky, his city
knowledge was fine.
During the tour, Chuck boasted of how “Irish” Savannah is; with one of the best St Patrick’s Day celebrations
in the country. The fact that he made that statement in the most celebrated street in Savannah; Jones Street (A
Welsh name) wasn’t lost on me!
Savannah may be an Irish city but it is also a Jewish city.
With the only purely Gothic style temple in the country, it has the country’s third oldest Jewish congregation.
The Temple has a Torah that dates back to 1733, and is one of the oldest ritual objects in Georgia.
And it’s a very African American city
The first African Baptist church is the oldest black church in the country, founded in 1733, and an integral part
of the Underground Railroad. One cannot help but wonder, as one sits in the pretty little cafes formed out of the
cotton warehouses of the dramas and sorrows those walls have seen.
It is a very Methodist city.
John Wesley spent two important years there, and it can be said that Methodism found it’s fertilizer in his
experiences with the Moravians …
Oh yes, it’s a very Moravian city.
In fact it is a city of religious tolerance, far more obviously, but with less hullabaloo than the city of “brotherly
love.”
It’s a very Welsh city.
With names such as Price, Jones, Owens, Thomas and Williams, and a number of red dragons gracing walls and
pub doors. But more than this,
Savannah is a cosmopolitan city.
Where one is in the easy south, but aware, as one steps onto River Street, that one is stepping on stones that
were used as ballast in ships. One is in fact treading on European stone set in American soil.
So European, Savannah is still, that the pavements rolled up at 6 pm on a winter’s Sunday night, and there was
nowhere local to sit and have coffee!
Forcing me to commit the tourist sin, of having to have coffee at ~ yes I’m sorry to say it: Starbucks.
My feelings about Starbucks are pretty well known to most of my friends. ~I avoid it.
But I was cold, I had my daughter and baby grandson with me, and the next bus wasn’t for an hour, so we
ventured in. As soon as I walked through the door, I completely lost where I was.
This is one of the reasons I dislike Starbucks! Not only do they all look much of a muchness, but the staff all
seemed to have been trained in the same school of pursed lip superiority. The friendliness of Savannah was left
outside, and we were in a world of confusion. And I resent the silly names that have replaced the perfectly
practical sizes. Instead of the practical small, medium, large, we have to face something like
“Pretendo; Fancythyself, and Grotesque-o”
The far too pretty boy behind the counter actually sneered at me when I was unsure of what exactly a “machi –
what- what” was (A type of car?). I just wanted the one thing that America is supposed to be famous at
providing. A decent cup of coffee for heaven’s sake! I didn’t get one! What I got was a mediocre tasting.
fashion statement. I sat and sadly assumed that my Savannah experience had passed.
I’m happy to say that the bus saved me!
We were joined at the bus stop by a wreck of a woman, who not only was blissfully unaware that mini skirts just
don’t look good when you are 60 and overweight ; but had also failed to notice that the back of her hair was
unbrushed. She was charming and regaled us in her cigarette fogged voice with stories from her ill-fated life.
The bus driver had a devil of a time getting around one of the squares, because somebody had parked their
SUV in a "no parking" zone. The bus stopped, and we all encouraged, guided and egged on the driver, until
she bravely tried to get past the SUV with a sigh and a promise from all of us, that if she DID hit the car, we
would all go into court to support her. When she finally squeaked by with only inches to spare, we all cheered,
and chattered. I was once again back in the warm embrace of the delightful city of Savannah.
The following day, as my plane took off. I actually wept.
Savannah is something to see!