Georgia's Peach

Cumberland Island was naturally stunning and unexpectedly... magical . An Island off the coast of Southern Georgia, where millionaires had once played and now horseshoe crabs, armadillos and horses ran wild. Andrew Carnegie had built the mansion here in the late 19^th century and this was a home where he loved to entertain the super elite and influential.




Now, the island is mostly owned by the state and visitors are permitted to camp, and roam the island as they please. We did so with much gusto, happy to be let into yet another very foreign world, but this time the price was much lower... a ferry ride to the island and a small camp site fee.





We saw massive horseshoe crabs, the wild horses and the real star of the island, the armadillos. Their full body amour allows them the freedom to roam wherever they which, as loudly as they please. They were never hard to find as they make such a noise foraging through the undergrowth, we watched them for hours. Cumberland Island was the best natural gem since Nova Scotia.

The Charming South

After spending a few days in the strip-mall beach towns of North Carolina, the now healthy Julian, and myself were heading into The South. We entered South Carolina with the distant hope of staying at an old plantation, taking in the turbulent history of the south and eating some of their famous BBQ, and gumbo. What we found far exceeded either of our expectations.




We stayed at Mansfield Plantation Inn, a rice plantation dating back to 1718. Paying $200.00 for our luxurious lodging had given us the keys to this once prosperous plantation, it's thousands of acres were ours to explore for the day. The next morning we had our first 'grits' breakfast (a southern breakfast too heavy for me to eat at dinner) in the formal dining room, once again the hefty price of the room had afforded us access into this elite world. This turned out to be the plantation where many scenes of 'The Patriot' had been filmed.

We spent the next day visiting Middleton Place, a rice plantation that was for the most part burnt to the ground during the civil war. The grounds here, had been meticulously maintained; they had originally been a 30-year slave labored project of the Plantation's matriarch. We caught our first glimpse of an alligator here, sunning itself on the edge of the perfectly trimmed grass, two worlds somehow managing to coexist.

We spent some time in Charleston and Savannah simply... charmed. We took ourselves on historical walking tours and managed to see an open home, taking in the opulence their histories had afforded them. The streets were full of wealth; breathtaking homes, luxury cars, tea and coffee shops, and boutiques galore. Leaving town, I was surprised to see the the wealth ended abruptly, and The South's history of segregation still existed with clear physical boundaries.

D.C.

Kim left early for her flight back to Portland, Ami and I left sluggishly but were relived to see the car in one piece back in Brooklyn.

I had been feeling a bit sick and now had a full on fly; being sick on a road trip is ten times worse because the car window is your bathroom sink, and the world is is your toilet.

Ami speed us out of New Jersey into Pennsylvania, famous for its Hershey's chocolate and vampires. Factories and smoke stacks gave way to fields of pumpkins and corn tended to by the local Amish community, dressed in the latest farming fashion from 1886.

I was truly sick by this point, and the East coast was experiencing record low temperatures; at night it froze and my flu was thriving in the cold air.

We gave in and spent two night recovering in a “sleep inn” after drinking many a motherly concoction of garlic,ginger,lemon and eye of newt, we reluctantly went to a doctor for some antibiotics, $300 bucks later.

Feeling slightly better, we dipped south in to the capital on a crisp sunny Sunday, against Ami's better judgment.

Sunday was a good day for the Smithsonian Museums and the solar powered house competition that was happening in the middle of the mall, also we had arrived during a gay marriage/rights march.

Posing in front of the Lincoln Statue and the White house wasn't as interesting as the protesters marching down the main street, much to the horror of many a local resident.

Loudspeakers chanting as thousands of 'GLBT' people and their supporters marched by Obama's empty house, guarded by black suit snipers on the roof and in the bushes, watching in silence.

It was fun to witness a rally that felt straight out of the 60's; America still drags its heals when it comes to changing laws concerning religious and social morals.

The Smithsonian seemed small and childish compared to the other museums we had seen, although it does have most of Americas most famous national treasures; I posed next to some typically blank faced tourists, mindlessly cataloging every item with their flashing digital cameras.

Driving South East to the cost an amazing transformation happened, in a matter of hours we left the cold urban sprawl that began in Maine, and popped out into the humid South.

Signs for boiled peanuts and BBQ where everywhere, Spanish moss hung from the trees and the small rolling hills flattened off into sandy swampy forests.

The weather had found us again as we raced ahead of a cold front and my flu oozed back into action; we had found a hostel in Kitty hawk, North Carolina and spent another couple of days in warm air and indoor plumbing.

Strangely enough we had sheltered just a mile from the location of the Wright brothers first manned flight, a tiny bump in the flat landscape being the highest point on the coast, all the way to Florida.

The hill should have had a sign welcoming us to the precarious, just above sea level, landscape called the South; I made a quick mental note, if tsunamis are coming, this is the last hill till we hit Texas.

Welcome to the South!