This city, at least where I am and in my opinion, is broken up into a few different parts.
There's the predominantly restaurant part, along the same street follows the shopping district, and that intersects with what begins my favorite part of the city- Market Street.
King Street is nice, of course. Ya know, full of really expensive restaurants that serve a lot of food that you can't pronounce and overpriced shrimp and grits. After you spend on arm and a leg on lunch, you can walk down a few blocks to fight your way through the overly crowded, claustrophobic streets filled with tourists where you can finally get into a store where you can then sell your soul and your first born child for a plain white tshirt. After you leave there you realize that the five glasses of sweet tea have finally hit you, but you now have a problem- no public restrooms. So you scurry along and hop into a place where you can buy an over priced water or another sweet tea just so you can use their bathroom. And then you return to fighting the crowd or the ridiculously slow walking people who spread out across the entire sidewalk blocking you from getting where you need to go.
Oh, and did I mention that towards the evening these same streets are filled with drunk college students raising all sorts of hell before going into their dorm and pulling the fire alarm multiple times in the middle of the night just for kicks, or setting off the fire alarm because they're too drunk to remember it requires water before before it goes in the microwave?
Lovely, isn't it?
Well when I finally can get by all the slow sidewalk-hogs and tourists, I hit Market Street. From there, I hop on over and walk by the old city market and remember going through there to working on a project where I got to interview the sweetgrass weavers who grew up there, and I think about all the history the Market holds. To the left and the right, I can walk by ice cream shops and get hit with the enchantingly sweet smell of homemade ice cream. I tend to stick to South Market Street for no real reason. Walking down there I pass Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. and think of southern classic that is Forest Gump. And about how much I love fried shrimp, but that's another story. Walking down Market Street, I find myself a lot less annoyed with the tourists because now these are families. I'm weaving in and out of little girls skipping around in sundresses, little boys on top of the world on their dad's shoulders, and retirees enjoying their 80th year.
After Market Street, we are intersected with East Bay Street. Another street with overpriced restaurants, yes, but this one has a different charm to it. And a Subway with a public bathroom. East Bay is home to some of that classic Charleston architecture that I'm so deeply in love with. East Bay also has that city liveliness that I love. Along this street you can walk by some restaurants with outdoor seating, and old southern men sitting outside of Charlestowne Tobacco & Wine smoking cigars and waving as you walk by.
When I walk down East Bay, I think of my senior year in high school when my class came down to Charleston for the day to take a tour of the Old Exchange. When I walk down East Bay, I think about that trip and my class- the people I grew up with in my little tiny school from my hometown. I think about the bond we all had, and I think about one teacher in particular who went on the trip with us. I think about her not just because she was my senior English teacher, but because she poured her heart and soul into teaching us more than just sonnets and literary interpretation. She poured her heart and soul into teaching us about duty, responsibility, and wisdom. During the years I got to know her, I grew to admire, respect, and love her for her strength, tenacity, wisdom, and the love she had for us.
Down East Bay, across from South End Brewery I take a left turn and am at the Waterfront Park. Here, I walk by the kids running through the fountain and remember when my sister and I did the same thing both as little kids, and later as high schoolers. I walk down a little further to the dock, where I went many a time last semester just to get away from campus and the city noise, look out over the water, and clear my head. I remember my first time there. I got the dock, sat down, and took the first deep breath I had taken in a while. Recently I started eno-ing a little further down in a shady spot when the weathers nice. Just a few days ago, in fact, I decided to take my exploration a little further.
I had been to the Battery before, but this time was different. I sat down on a towel, underneath one of the many trees at White Point Garden and just looked around. There weren't any drunk teenagers, no expensive stores or restaurants, no commercialism, none of it. There were people eno-ing, family picnics, dogs playing fetch, kids chasing bubbles, a wedding that had just finished, and people taking leisurely strolls near the water. In the midst of a hustle and bustle city, here was a place that was calm and relaxed and everywhere I looked there was a happy family. Just a few yards away from me was a little family picnic with a few young kids and two little dogs. The adults just sat on the blankets and ate sandwiches while the kids ran around the spot playing with the dogs. Something about that picture just made me really happy as cliche as it might sound.
I continued my exploration along South Battery Street, crossed over to Murray Street and just walked until the road curved near Tradd Street before turning around. When I walk down there I think of my mom. I think of how much I miss her and how much I know she misses me. One of my mom's biggest dreams is to move down here to Charleston near her sister and near my sister and me. She always talks about taking walks down at the Battery and jokes about me buying her one of those South of Broad homes overlooking the water if she doesn't win the lottery first.
I kept exploring and just fell in love with Charleston all over again. Walking through their is like walking through an old southern fairytale.
I fell in love with South of Broad. Anything that has ever described it as anything short of perfect was an absolute lie. I love everything about it. It's like somewhere between King Street and White Point Garden took you into a different time. There is just something about walking through there and weaving in and out of traveling families and locals fishing and walking by old, southern Charlestonians sipping sweet tea from their porch and waving to me as I walk by.
It's like everything about the south wrapped up in just a couple of streets.
