The price you pay for traveling with your mother – or the adventures you experience, depending on perspective – is guaranteed to include visits to art museums, cemeteries, botanic gardens, explorations of graffiti and the beach. And the occasional detour, if your mother is Frau Heuer.
The beaches around Charleston are diverse, and pretty empty during the winter. I presume during the summer they are a zoo.
Beach towns vary. There are upscale neighborhoods (Isle of Palm), where the degree of wealth can be inferred from the car models rather than expressions of taste.
There are rather seedy neighborhoods (Folly Beach), which reminded me of spring break scenarios, minus the drunken crowds, given that it was December.
And then there are nature trails leading to somewhat hidden beaches, good for long walks and conversations;
the topic this time centering around race, as you’d predict. We would laugh around tidbits like this one:
and think through issues of reconciliation (a topic I plan to explore in more depth at some future point here – I think it would be interesting to look at the various ways across time and places that people tried to come to terms with prior injustice.) For now, let this link with a conversation between the descendants of Dredd Scott and those of the other side be food for thought:
And speaking of food: the nice thing about traveling with your mother is that there is always a good meal guarantied.
With the appropriate drinks
mystery deserts, refusal of pumpkin spice
and strangely named waiters…