This is a truly historic city. It was taken by the British in the Revolutionary War. In the Civil War, Union forces repeatedly bombarded the city, causing vast damage.
In 1865, Union troops moved into the city, and took control of many sites, including the United States Arsenal, which the Confederate Army had seized at the outbreak of the war. The War Department also confiscated the grounds and buildings of the Citadel Military Academy, and used this as a federal garrison for more than 17 years. But that wasn’t enough.
On August 31, 1886, Charleston was again nearly destroyed by an earthquake measuring 7.5 on the Richter scale. It was felt as far away as Boston to the north, Chicago and Milwaukee to the northwest, as far west as New Orleans, as far south as Cuba, and as far east as Bermuda. It severely damaged 2,000 buildings.
Today all is well. Historic buildings have been restored,
the economy is good, and tourists love the old section of town. One of the best ways to see it is on a wagon with guide.
Actually I think driving, at least for me, would be a problem . . . I’d be sitting at this cross street for a long time figuring out which green was mine.
Owen and I walked and were amazed as we saw the different burial sites; history below ground as well as above.
We checked out restaurant row as I had an appetite for Southern food. My days at Duke University in North Carolina came sneaking back. Oh, for some liver pudding.
OK, so we passed some upscale restaurants
which brought to mind this question. Why did we eat here?
The outside was not inviting and the inside was not much better, but whee hah, the food was great. I had “She Crab Blue Crab Roe with Sherry” soup followed with a stack of Fried Green Tomatoes.
After lunch, I learned a lesson. Always carry an extra charged battery for your camera. Mine went dead and for me the rest of Charleston will be in my memory, not that that’s fully charged these days.
We sailed for New York.
We’ll both miss Serenity. I’ll miss the lights in our cabin dimming as they are turned off. I’ll miss the crew, the production shows, and of course the best cruise director in the business, Gary Hunter.
Owen will miss, well
Disembarking was beautifully handled. Each guest received colored luggage tags to match airline departure. Mine was Pink 2. (Not there is anything wrong with that.) It was called and off the ship I went. I walked the pier passageway to an elevator where a man said, “Pink 2?” At my nod he said “Follow me.” He took me to the bus, got on and traveled with our Pink 2 group. At the airport he got attendants to help those who had trouble managing their luggage. This was still Crystal!!
The only problem I had was going through security at JFK. Since luggage is taken from the rooms in the evening, one must lay out the next day’s wardrobe. On travel day, I realized that the top button on my pants was missing. Not to worry, my belt would be tight enough to hold the pants up. At security, the TSA woman told me to take off my belt. I explained it is a frequent flyer belt with no metal.
“This system needs all belts off!” she said, pointing to one of those full body scanners.
Off came the belt. I got in the cubicle and she told me to raise my hands high in the air. No belt . . . no button . . . If I had been an underwear bomber, it would have been quite obvious. Not Crystal anymore