Marco had an appointment in Charleston to renew a passport, so I went along for the ride. Charleston has become one of my favorites, ever since an epic trip there last July when I visited the Gibbes museum, took a Gullah tour, and hung out with Marco’s Arab and Iranian graduate students. Hot damn! I understand why it’s such a huge tourist destination.
EXITING THE HOTEL, WE WERE WAYLAID BY A BUNCH OF SPANISH-SPEAKING ITALIANS. “DOV’E’ L’UFFICIO POSTALE?”
I wondered how dangerous it would be in the midst of the pandemic.
Not too much.
WE WALKED FOR AN HOUR.
The only time I was afraid was while walking on King Street: a touristy street filled with plenty of Covid Mikes and Marys. We veered from there and headed across town to Saffron restaurant, taking some back streets and side streets and stopping at the Charleston Museum on the way.
The weather was very fine, and we could walk alone along Mary Street and the like, checking out all the old side porch houses, many of which were getting repairs done. The paint colors seemed brighter than usual.
The Charleston Museum was interesting with its archaeological view of history, old pottery, Native American stories, boots for mules, and skeleton of a 2-million-year-old crocodile whose remains were found underneath a trailer park.
We were able to socially distance at the museum, and everyone there wore a mask.
The idea of eating at Saffron was more intimidating. Marco and I haven’t eaten inside a restaurant since the pandemic began. We knew Saffron had outdoor dining, but when I saw how many people were eating on the back porch (around 10), I chose a table inside. We were two tables away from the next couple. There were never more than four people eating inside, the ceilings were high, and the air conditioning was cool and blast-y. We had a nice Russian woman as our waitress.
It was an ace day, because at home I watched The Forty-Year-Old Version by Radha Blank. Hilarious, and believable. Now I want to rap.