On my first official day in Charleston, I set out with the intention of exploring each and every corner of the city. The previous day in Wilmington had been rather lax and I was looking forward to being adventurous once again. However, given my very very poor sense of direction, I reasoned that a carriage ride through the historic district might be a good way to get my bearings before setting out on my own two feet. Therefore, I purchased a ticket and very quickly found myself sitting behind a fine pair of mules named Yahoo and Sissy. The tour guide was an attractive young man (a red-head!) named Derrick. He grew up in the area and, I believe, is now studying history there. His first task was to ask each group on the carriage where they were from and gather a few other pieces of information about them. My carriage contained a family of nine from Georgia, a family of five from Tennessee, and then me - the lone Yankee. Fortunately, nothing was thrown at me, but the tour proved to be very interesting given my Northern perspective. While several comments were provoking, the one phrase that stuck with me was when the guide, alluding the to the Civil War, commented, "Well, we'll lick 'em in the second half!" Now, please indulge me, and consider that comment for a moment, as I did. My first reaction was, "Whoa whoa whoa...you actually expect there to be a second half? Then, I thought, "Really? You still haven't gotten over that?, and finally, "Excuse me buddy, but don't you know what the war was about? Why would you want to win a war over slavery?!" I was appalled and fascinated all at the same time, and couldn't help but wonder, "Do people really live with this mentality? Could I live surrounded by mentality?"
If you know me at all, you know that I am soooooo NOT a city person. While I enjoy the occasional visit to New York or foray into Boston, I have no intention of actually living in either place. I like to roll out of my front steps and see green, inhale clean air, have some room to myself. Therefore, I was surprised, when in spite of Derrick's remarks and my natural predilection for suburban life , I found myself captivated by the city of Charleston. I actually thought, "I could live here!"
Charleston happens to be the second most well-preserved historical region in the world, preceded only by Rome, Italy. There are very stringent building regulations that are enforced by the Board of Architectural Review (BAR). Some of their policies include: 1. No building over seventy-five years old can be destroyed. 2. No building can exceed, in height, that of the tallest church steeple. 3. If you want to re-paint your house, the BAR will come to your house and paint six color swatches. You may only choose from the palette provided for you. Generally speaking, the BAR is so meticulous that if you were to change a doorknob, they must approve of the replacement first. WOWzer! While this might seem anal, these rules have functioned, in my opinion, to maintain a well-groomed, cohesive, and quaint city that neither feels overwhelming (thanks to the lack of sky-high buildings) or dirty (thanks to the care and attention given to its history). So, here's my dilemma...
Physically, Charleston is beautiful. The people are polite. The food is good; the pace of life, relaxing. There are beaches and boats nearby. When it's not August, the weather is gorgeous. On the flip-side though, most of the people here have never left the state of South Carolina. Despite the large black population, Charleston's inhabitants are still segregated. The population is one of the worst educated in the United States, and every afternoon, out of the bright blue sky, a torrential downpour hits you for about 30 minutes. There's good, and there's bad, and I'm not quite sure which one will win.
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