36 Hours In Savannah
I have so many things to say about Savannah, that I’m all bottled up about where to begin. To make things easy for myself, I’m going to copy the fucking New York Times, and do a “36-Hours in Savannah.” You should trust me, not them. Given that Caleb is from the city, as is his entire family, and 66% of my friends went to SCAD (at least 1/2 of them live in another dimension), I have the inside scoop.
Most people know that Savannah has one of the most beautiful downtown areas of any city in the United States. Founded in 1733 by James Oglethorpe, blah blah blah, the town has preserved most of its original layout. It is arranged around 22 squares, each with their own flavor—some of them have gazebos, some have little parks, but all are filled with lush old oak trees draped with Spanish moss.
The squares are lined by grand mansions, as well as the row houses where the servants and dirty Irish lived, which range in style from colonial to Victorian to Belle Epoque. There are only two modern homes in the entire downtown, and they are both as ugly as shit.
The houses are, for the most part, well preserved, decked out with sweeping staircases and wraparound porches.
