Tastes of Charleston

Final impressions of Charleston wouldn't be complete without, well, impressions themselves.  In a

final thought of the city, Charleston is a sort of throwback to the dying values of charm and authenticity, something many American travelers complain about when they visit any number of other urban hub alternatives including Chicago, Minneapolis, Seattle, or even NYC itself.  In an attempt to clean-up pockets of modern cities, travel centers have become somewhat homogenous (I would take plain over crime anyday though), and it's hard to pick-up on what exactly

is the American personality these days except to know that it often shows up in corporate logos like Starbucks and Subway.  Charleston turns all of this upside down – tenants of historic Charleston have to work with what they've got, and so Husk is in an old three-story residence

with a little city yard and veranda; the Inn at Middleton is an old facilities building; the Grill 225 is a part and parcel of the City Market. There are new buildings – especially in the wake of earth shaking

hurricanes – but that architecture, for the most part, stays within that standard of southern charm and preservation.  "New" is everywhere, but it comes in the form of remod, not always tear down.  Rainbow Row, known as the oldest string of Georgian architecture in America, looks fresh

and lively up against a sheet of sunshine in a way that modern dullness has a hard time competing with.  Cobblestones roads, once a concoction of quarried rock and oyster shells, still stand as main

line roads. Small gardens, not ostentatiously set out in front of small homes, but hidden like tropical mysteries barely seen from

tilted wrought iron gates, provide the passer-by with the beginnings of stories but not ends.  Pineapple fence posts indicate old city symbols for visitors welcome, and later show as fountains

down by a waterfront which does merge the old and new wisely without the common rush of neon signs.  What is created, on purpose or by accident, is not an American city at all, but old-world

Europe.  Only in the mazes of Nice, Venice, Aix en Provence, Paris and who knows how many others can you find the magical authenticity of the travelers dream: "what might lie around the next corner?"

To double this with extremely low crime rates is likely an enormous reason why Charleston has topped out many lists as the number one travel destination in America for several years in a row now.  One night, as Jan and I found an hour or two to get out of the room on our own, we thought and thought about where we could walk to that was within a block or two for a drink and a bite.  I mentioned I saw a miniature sign that said Jazz on it half a block away, didn't even remember the name.  We scooted quickly across the street and could hear the faint toot of a horn warming up inside.  The hostess was kind but said the Mezzanine was right now full as far as she could tell and the band was starting in a couple of minutes.  She smiled and ducked quickly upstairs to take a final look – this was to be a recorded session of the house band and tickets had been reserved in advance.  She said if you come up, maybe we could work something out, so we did and stood up near the bar for a few minutes until the band members themselves

cleared from their bar seats, which we took and listened at what I came to realize later was the number one jazz venue in the city.  When a city itself is art, anything is possible.