Bonnie & Clyve: We Love Savannah, But She Doesn't Love Us Back

I’ve come to realize that this blog is a lot like the Coke down here. Up until a few weeks ago, all my Coke Zero cans said “Share a Coke Zero with a Reindeer”. Which makes me laugh every time because I try to imagine a reindeer holding a can. I’ve been hanging out with too many 4-year olds. And now all the cans have football helmets, in preparation for the Super Bowl that was 3 weeks ago. In March, we’ll finally see the Valentine’s Day promotions. I secretly love it—like we’re not ever being subject to Coke’s marketing schemes. So take that, evil corporation! Although, I think they have the last laugh since I’m addicted to their product. Anyway, I’m always blogging about our trips and adventures a month or two or more after it actually happened, so hopefully you can still enjoy the Coke even though it’s a little too late.

For our 5^th anniversary, we decided to hop on a plane down to Savannah, GA and spend a few days there. It was great to be on our own and to be able to just play for 4 days straight. We somehow managed to have the worst luck imaginable while still not ruining the whole trip. First of all, we slept through our alarm, so we woke up to my Dad knocking on our door saying “Time to go!” And I never snooze my alarm. I wasn’t even conscious of doing it. I honestly think my Fitbit was screwing with us. I usually can’t sleep very well the night before a flight because I have nightmares about missing the flight or forgetting my toothbrush. Yes, I am psychotic, but I’ve never missed a flight except when it was the airline’s fault. We raced to the airport and even had a few minutes to spare to go in the family bathroom and brush our teeth and wash our faces.

Then, when we go to get our rental car in Savannah, they give us a truck. Actually, not just a truck. A decked-out four-door Dodge Ram. Billy was giddy, until the first time he tried to find parking for that bad boy. So, that was an adventure. Then, we take our pimped-out ride to check into our hotel, but we weren’t allowed to check in until 11. Luckily, we had the massive truck, so carrying our one suitcase around was no big deal. Shout out to the light packers over here—us—we fit all our stuff into one carry-on and we each had a small backpack. I’m raising the roof as I type this. I did really need a shower after being on a plane, but Billy already knows what my stench smells like, so that was manageable. After going to McDonald’s to get some Diet Coke and some WiFi to tell my family we made it, we headed into historic Savannah. We strolled through Forsyth Park (how do you not stroll through a park?) and explored some of the squares and tried to map out our game plan for tackling Savannah. It was a beautiful 80-degree day, and the charm of the South was already rubbing off on me. Everyone just seems so happy and friendly.

After a while, we get back in the Ram to head towards the waterfront to find some food. We find a free parking space (hallelujah!) and I go to grab my phone. Not in my purse, or my back pocket. We do a strip search of the entire truck—which took quite a while because our suitcase was still in there and I had changed in the back, so our crap was everywhere. At this point I’m starting to panic, because my life is in that shitty iPhone 5. It may not have an American phone number or data plan, but that gem keeps me on Instagram when living in a foreign country. And I hadn’t backed it up in forever, so all my pictures on there would be lost forever. Such a tragedy. Then, I start thinking about how I would need to get a new one—which I’ve obviously been whining for a 6, so that was kind of fun to think about. But then I remembered that we have to go back to Grenada and they’ll probably charge me duties on a new phone, plus the electricity has fried all of our electronics, and none of them can hold a charge anymore, so it’s probably not worth it to bring down a new one. So, all these thoughts in a matter of 30 seconds led me to believe that I would be phoneless for our last term and I was doomed. I’m telling you guys, my anxiety/inclination to exaggerate is real.

Billy had the bright idea to retrace our steps. Which, me being the optimistic person that I am, I scoffed at. I knew I had it on the way to the park, because we used my GPS. (Side note: for any international travelers that don’t have international service—we use the maps.me app where you can download a whole country or state before your trip and then you can navigate without having service. It’s been a lifesaver for us in Grenada, Virginia, and Georgia since we don’t have data. Although, using it in DC is a nightmare. The roads are all so close together that it gives you a headache). ANYWAY, I was guessing that my phone had probably fallen out of my pocket at the park, and we walked all over the place, so there’s no way to tell where exactly it happened. Plus, after the day that Billy left my Hydroflask water bottle in class, and someone stole it, I lost all my faith in humanity. I still keep my eye out for the person on campus sipping out of a 40 oz black bottle. Watch your back, thief.

So, we head back to the park, and I see how many people are out and about and I’m convinced all is lost. My only hope is if we can find it on the ground in the parking lot—preferably not run over. We get to the parking lot and I’m crawling all over the asphalt—in white jeans, I might add. That’s how desperate I was. But I didn’t see it anywhere. Then I decide I’m going to go ask the cafe next to the parking lot if anyone turned in a phone. In retaliation for my previous scoffing, Billy scoffed at that idea. But I figured that’s what I would do if I found a phone at the park—unless it was a 6, then I’d keep it. Since I’m already planning out my next step if this café idea fails, I’m contemplating waiting all day for all the cars there to leave so I can see if it was under their tires. I go into the café and wait in line to ask the lady. I ask her, “Did someone turn in a pho…?” She doesn’t even let me finish my sentence, she just smiles and hands my phone to me. That glorious, malfunctioning, half-day battery phone! Someone had found it in the parking lot and came to turn it in. I could have kissed her on the mouth, I was so happy! I considered asking if there was an iPhone 6 there too, just in case, but thought I’d better not. So, that was our first experience of strangers in the South, and it left quite an impression. Or maybe they just didn’t want it since it’s only a 5 and it doesn’t have any service. Either way, I was so relieved!

Our next day in Savannah, we woke up early to go golfing. We got a killer deal at this nice course, so we were pretty excited. I mean, it wasn’t Augusta National or anything, but we pretended. We rented clubs even though I hate not using my own. Tommy Armour’s for life, baby! And they gave us 6 balls each to play with. More than enough, right? Except that for some reason, we kept losing our balls. We ran out of all the balls they gave us (12) on the 12^th hole. It’s not even that we were playing badly and hitting them into the water or woods (although there’s always some of that going on)—it’s that we literally could not find our balls in the grass. And we’re pretty good at finding balls since we’re so cheap and like to pocket them. So, we ran out of balls completely in the middle of the 12^th hole, and are kind of at a loss of what to do—this had never happened before! We’re on the hole the farthest away from the shop, so we make the long trek back to the clubhouse and Billy forces me to go in to buy some more balls. In our relationship, I always have to do the awkward human interactions or else Billy will just freeze up or forget what he’s there for. When I get in there, the worker who rented us our clubs asks, “So, how’d you like the course?”, assuming we had already finished our round. I turned bright red and had to admit that we lost all our balls and needed to buy some more. He felt really awkward and didn’t make eye contact with me after that.

I almost forgot to mention that there’s a reason our early tee time was so cheap. Dew! There was slurpy, wet, morning dew all over the course. Which didn’t mix well with the gooey Georgia dirt. I would go to hit a ball and mud would spray all over my face. I’ve never been so filthy after a round of golf. But the worst stroke of bad luck (see what I did there?) we had all day was when we saw the Trump campaign plane land. Just seeing that plane ruined my whole golf game. Billy thinks it’s funny to act like he supports Trump and chants “Trump, Trump, Trump!” just to bother me. At least, for the sake of our marriage, I hope he does it to bother me. I can barely even handle being married to a republican, but if he liked the Donald, I think it might push me over the edge.

Ever since we got back, we were asked if we ate at the Paula Deen restaurant. No, we did not. I thought everyone was boycotting her cause she was racist? Or was that just in 2013? But, we DID eat at The Olde Pink House at Planter’s Inn, which was divine. Our entrees were delicious, but my favorite dish was the BLT salad that was recommended by our waiter. This celebrity salad was featured on the show on Food Network called, “The Best Thing I Ever Ate”. It had fried green tomatoes, with brown sugar baked bacon, and a buttermilk thyme dressing. I don’t know if you can even call it a salad. It’s 9AM and I’m salivating over a salad.

When we travel, I have a rule that we can’t eat at any chain restaurants (except for getting my morning Diet Coke from Mickey D’s of course). I want to experience the local cuisine and enjoy places that I couldn’t enjoy at home. I’ll admit we did get Chipotle once in Savannah because we can’t get it in Grenada and because it’s Chipotle, duh. Yelp is our best friend. Every time we stray from Yelp, we are disappointed in our meal. One does not simply see a conveniently located restaurant and decide whether you want to eat there. Ambiance does not equal good food. And we travel so much, you would think we would learn by now. But our stomachs always win over and force us to stop at the next restaurant we see.

We also got suckered into waiting in line at Leopold’s Ice Cream. No matter what time you go—when they open at 11 or close at 10, there is a line wrapped around the block. We were intrigued by it—it’s got to be worth it, right? So, we waited in line for 45 minutes to eat some really good ice cream. I wouldn’t say that it’s something you HAVE to eat in Savannah (the BLT salad, you HAVE to eat), but you kind of need to wait in the line just to experience the anticipation and excitement of wondering, “Is this ice cream going to make me a better person?”, or “Has my whole life been preparing me for this very moment?” I’m of the political belief that you can never go wrong with ice cream (except the ice cream they make in Grenada). So, I won’t say that I was disappointed. But for the $8 ice cream cone I had, I was a little let down that I couldn’t see through walls or increase my vertical jump larger than my measly 6 inches. But, I’ll also add that we waited in line again the next day. And kindly note that we are accustomed to service in Grenada, so a 45-minute wait for ice cream is nothing to us.

Savannah really is so romantic. Or maybe I should say dreamy. I’ve heard people describe places as “romantic” before, and I’ve never really understood it. Like, does everyone just walk around constantly wanting to tear each other’s clothes off? That sounds kind of dangerous. Or does it mean that everyone is so in love, they break into song and dance like in the musicals? Cause, I would really like to avoid those types of situations. But after visiting Savannah, I get the use of the wordage and have stopped wondering whether they spike the drinking water with Viagra. The Spanish moss and ivy and old homes and trees and parks made me want to just hold Billy’s hand and laugh about all the crazy unlucky stuff that was happening to us. Nothing could go terribly wrong in a place like Savannah.

Savannah is one of the only cities that doesn’t have an open container law. Restaurants would try and sell us a bottle of wine and add that we could take an already opened bottle to go. So, apparently it’s one of the best cities for New Year’s Eve! Which was just what we wanted on our quiet anniversary trip. We are big downers on New Year’s because 1) we don’t drink; 2) we can’t physically stay up that late; 3) our anniversary is on the 30^th so by going on an anniversary trip, all the flight and hotel rates are skyrocketed because of New Year’s. Although, recently I have come to see how unknowingly genius we were with picking the date of our anniversary. Our wedding was freezing cold, but I love that we can go on a trip somewhere warm in the middle of the winter. Our anniversary is after Christmas, so it doesn’t get overshadowed the holidays—we can decompress from the chaos of planning Christmas. Plus, we’ll typically get time off of work because of the holiday, so we can go on an anniversary trip. And here I thought we got married December 30 because of the tax break, and because I didn't want any Christmas decor at the reception. Call me Scrooge.

On the night of our anniversary, we went on an adults-only ghost walk of Savannah. It was adults only because it was so late, and too scary for children. Not perverted or anything. It was kind of fun to hear the stories and see the actual houses where people live and just put up with the “hauntings”. The whole tour, I wanted my mom with us though. Not because I was scared, but because she has had a lot of ghost experiences. We would for sure see a ghost if she were there! In doing all of her genealogy, she’s had some crazy dreams and stories and the veil is very thin for her. She loves graveyards because she can sense the good spirits there. My favorite story about this topic is from when my parents and Billy and I we were in Skagway, AK on our cruise. We walked over to the cemetery and spent time looking at the headstones and dates. As we walked through it, my Mom kept saying, “This graveyard doesn’t feel right, I don’t sense anything”. I inwardly rolled my eyes, because I do NOT have that sensitivity. Then we run into a tour guide who is saying to the group that there are not actually any bodies at this graveyard. One year the river flooded and so all the bodies washed away. So, my mom can actually tell whether it’s a real graveyard by the spirits she can sense. I know you’re picturing a woman who wears scarves and long flowy skirts and lots of rings, but I promise my mother is really educated and sensible. She just is also very knowledgeable about the other side. Anyway, I would love to get her sense on some of the houses we saw to try and find out what is true and what is fabricated.

The most haunted house in Savannah also happens to be right next door to my dream house in Savannah. The haunted house has been abandoned for years, but there are a lot of sightings and weird stories that have come from the house. We even have a couple stories of our own. When we were there at night, nothing crazy happened. People were taking pictures of the houses the whole tour, and I hate when tourists take pictures of everything like signs and trees—like what are you going to do with that picture? So, I didn’t take any pictures, but then on the last and most haunted house, I took a few on my phone just cause everyone else was doing it. Then, the next night, I was looking through my pictures and I totally see like 7 different faces in the windows of the pictures I took. I know all of them are probably just from the tree that was in front of the house, but when I was in the dark in my bed and Billy was asleep, I got sufficiently spooked. Now when I look at the picture, I only see 3 distinct ones. I have the picture down below if you want to look at it. We went back to the house during the day to try and spot something in different lighting. Nothing, of course. But Billy turns on my camera to take a picture of me, and the camera is shooting in black and white and the only color is the red lettering in the "Private Property" sign. I’ve never done that on my camera before, I didn’t even know my camera could do that. And then when I go to fix the settings, it’s kind of complicated to change—it’s no like Billy just pushed a couple buttons to make it that way. So, we’re probably haunted now, thus keeping our unlucky streak going.

OK, so try and zoom into this picture and make sure your brightness is all the way up. Totally creepy faces, right? The top left looks like a man glaring at me.Top right looks like a woman looking to her left. And the bottom looks like a creepy child.

The ghosts took over my camera

We tried 3 different times to get into the Mercer-Williams house which was the only haunted house you can actually go into. It’s the house from the book, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt. On one of our attempts, we were 2 hours too late—they close at 4. On our second attempt, our trolley took too long, so we missed the closing time again. The last attempt was on New Year’s Day, and we were early enough but they were closed for the holiday. We also tried meeting up with my friend from college at the house, but since I only have Wi-Fi in certain spots, we kind of just said meet us here at this time, if you can. And I wasn’t sure if she had seen it. Turns out, she did see it and showed up but just missed us! Oh, how happy I will be to have a data plan again.

We also had plans to meet up with Billy’s cousin who lives in Savannah, but our plans got foiled by my nasty cough. She has a baby and she’s pregnant and I didn’t want to risk giving them my croup. Plus, that last day I had completely run out of all my energy. It’s just a good excuse to go back to visit though!

I can’t forget to mention the unluckiest of all the un-lucks(?) besides forgetting our selfie stick--I was on my period. Great timing for an anniversary trip. And I was sick with whooping cough the whole time. I was fine as long as I kept and IV drip of DayQuil all day long. But my coughing fits were long and disgusting—people nearby would flinch and walk away from me. One time, I was coughing and at the end of the fit, I had mucus all over my hand. I know you all wanted to know that. All the adventuring caught up to me on New Year’s Eve and we fell asleep at 10:30.

We had the most ill-fated trip we’ve ever taken, but we still managed to have a blast and fall in love with a new city. It’s the crappy moments where you feel like you’re being Punk’d that make the best memories. Put that in a cross-stitch, someone.

My dream house, except it would be covered in ivy. That sun room is everything.

Oh, Savannah.

Tybee Island Pier

Travel partners forevaaaa

Tybee Lighthouse

Nice try, Billy. You sort of missed the lighthouse.

He was pretty pumped about the double decker bus INSIDE a cafe

Walking around Forsyth Park

Fresh off the plane

I'll take whatever smiles I can get

About to eat at Vinnie Van Go Go's Pizza

I love my husband, but sometimes he deserves to be flipped off.

See all the dewy footprints?

Golfing through swampy Georgia

Bonaventure Cemetery

One of the bridges on Factors Walk. Billy made me pose, I promise.

On the Savannah River. Not the prettiest river, but cool vibes.

The legendary Dodge Ram

In front of Planter's Inn on our 5th anniversary. Best dinner of the trip.

I may or may not have ordered the coffee ice cream at Leopold's without tasting it first and it was not very good. So I quickly ordered a Mint Chocolate Chip cone so I wouldn't have to be disappointed in my order after a 45 minute wait. I ate both.