Palmetto palms line the streets. Rows of Charleston single houses stand at attention adorned with ferns along their piazzas (side porches) behind privacy doors graced with fashionable door knockers.
Wrought-iron entry gates flanked by carved pineapples atop brick pillars along with the enchanting glow of Carolina lanterns that flicker “welcome” day and night.
Historical plaques sprinkle the neighborhoods like confetti – they’re everywhere. Charleston is a city rich in history and charm.
Residents are eager to tell you all the things you need to see or know; packed with their suggestions one is given an in-depth preview before you go. “Enticing” is the word that comes to mind when thinking of these encounters.
Everyone here is SO polite everywhere we go. “Yes ma’am” never sounded so good.
Contrary to the rough and tumble of our home, “NYC”–a town that prides itself on its toughness, grit and grime, which most New Yorker’s wear with pride. “You talkin’ to me?” is in our look. That’s if we give a look. Eye contact is sacrilegious in The City and fuhgedabout uttering a greeting or smile, HA! yeah right. Isn’t that why the song says, “If you can make it there you can make it anywhere.”
Meanwhile back in CHS (Charleston):
Daily walks around the lake outside our front door ripe with fall balmy breezes, no screeching sirens, honking horns, loud tirades in the street. Horse drawn carriage-ride tours scatter the cobblestone streets along the Battery, across Market Street, and over to the main drag King Street.
Mount Pleasant – yes that’s its name – is just over the Ravenel (state of the art suspension) Bridge. It truly lives up to its name as it is quite pleasant. Daily rituals include the locals of the historic Old Village gathering on the banks of the Copper River at Alhambra Hall overlooking Charleston Harbor to watch the sunset.
Isle of Palms and Sullivan’s Island beaches are just a few miles in one direction, while James, John’s and Kiawah Islands are a few miles in the other.
Golf carts are the second car for most in these parts; they are the norm all over town and the surrounding islands, or as I call them, “the outer boroughs.” You can take the girl out of “The City” but you can’t always take “The City” out of the girl. Not yet anyway.
Cascading flower boxes drape the windows of homes, businesses, cottages, as well as house boats and fishing shacks. This community certainly has their priorities straight.
I think I like it here, a lot.
Man, am I getting soft after just a month or so of being here?
nycitybelle.com 