As I pull into the Charleston area I can’t help but stop at a place called ‘Isle of Palms.’ There isn’t much there. I’m have once again arrived long before anything opens, when the parking is free, and there are fewer people around. It’s just a beach, a fairly quiet one.
I stop for a coffee before crossing into the city, I ask the employees what they would recommend seeing while in town. Sometimes it’s nice to have a local’s perspective on what is pretty. I memorize all that they tell me, I try to find some of these things on my little paper map of the city. Then the dog and I head into the gauntlet. It is Sunday, the place has woken up, and there are people everywhere. Cameras are a clicking as dollars exchange hands in the multitudes of shops in the historic district. It is your standard tourist trap.
We find a parking spot at Battery Park, where the old cannon batteries were setup during the old days:
And we walk, for most of the day. I take pictures of pretty buildings:
Of course, that’s not all we take pictures of. There is graffiti, and flowers, and little details to boot. We walk around for hours until the sun sets. My feet hurt, we are both dehydrated, and Scrappy has sniffed at least half the bushes in the historic district. I find another coffee shop, this time opting for some sleepy time tea. I edit the photos, and do the facebooking thing. I drive to a walmart and we crash for the night.