There’s apparently an adage that goes “In Atlanta, they ask where you work – in Savannah, they ask what you’re drinking”. As a city full of tourists, I’d expected some half decent nightlife, but I was pleasantly surprised by the choice. As the holiday weekend got into full swing, the bars and restaurants were opening for as late as people wanted to eat and drink for. Not least at one of the city’s most famous – and infamous dive bars.
The owners of the Rail Pub won’t mind me saying that. This is as trashy – and as fun – as they come. It’s barely 7pm, but already there’s a collection of hen parties, drunken biker types and people like my, who looks as if they’re a bit lost. The clientele and the music is loud, bit it’s a great atmosphere.
The one things that strikes you about Savannah is just how green the city is. Tree lined streets take you along a 2 square mile area containing no fewer that 22 square. Each is dedicated to a person or a moment in history – and each provides a useful shade from what can but sultry hot weather.
Across at the City Market district, pedestrianised squares become live performance areas. Most of the performers here are doing rock or jazz cover versions, and the drinker they customers get, the fuller the tip jars.
As a fairly flat city, Savannah is easy to get around by bike. There are the “beer bikes” powered by boozed up tourists – and, in the historic district, a series of bike carts carrying a full wedding party passes by. I didn’t quite manage to get a picture of them – but just down the street, one of the squares by one of the many churches was laid out for the ceremony. And, being the South, they build their churches big and pretty.
There’s just time for a little last minute shopping before I leave. And having previously mentioned bars like Wet Willie’s, it’s hardly a surprise that even the sweet shops are big on innuendo.
And , if you like, you can try and emulate Bryan Adams and buy a six string…
Before coming here, I think I expected Savannah to be quieter, more genteel an – potentially – just a bit boring after New Orleans. But I’m always happy to be proved wrong. Two days is probably enough to see the main highlights – but I suspect I may be back – if only for the surroundings of the Macmillan Inn.
It’s Easter Sunday and thankful Savannah Aiport is both small and quiet. A swift check in and a short line at security – before one of those awkward pat downs. Apparently, something strange has show up on my hands It’s probably just the remnants of the peanut shells from the Rail Pub. There were plenty of them.
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