Powell - For 91 Days in Savannah

For 91 Days in Savannah is an adaptation of the blog For91Days.com. The prose has been polished, cross-references added, formatting adjusted and the best photographs selected.

After hearing the request from a number of readers, we thought a portable edition of the blog would make a lot of sense. You can bring this e-book with you on a reader or laptop, and you won't need an internet connection to read about our observations and explorations of Savannah.

Like the blog, the e-book is best read as a series of anecdotes, rather than a comprehensive guidebook, or a cohesive travel memoir. Links which lead to other spots within the e-book are highlighted in blue , while those which will open a browser window are colored green .

At the end of every article, you'll find a link to the original blog post, which is useful if you want to see more images or read the comments that others have left. We've also included an index of posts by both date and category, to assist in navigation.

Thanks for purchasing this e-book. We had an incredible time in Savannah, and are sure you will too.

At 3pm on a brisk November afternoon, Jrgen and I parked a smashed-up car in front of our new Savannah home, and pulled our exhausted bodies up the front steps. We had arrived after a whirlwind trip that had brought us from Oviedo, Spain, to Madrid, Chicago, Denver, Ohio, Kentucky and finally southeastern Georgia.

And our dog, Chucky, had come with us. The flight from Madrid to Chicago had been long, and she had surely spent every minute howling in the dark solitude of the cargo bay. When her crate arrived into Chicago customs, I picked her up for enthusiastic hugs and kisses, realizing too late that she was covered in puke. Though there's no evidence for it, I've convinced myself that she must have vomited at the very end of the flight, and that she didn't spend ten terrifying, turbulent hours rolling around in her own mess.

My parents let us borrow their car for the trip from Kentucky to Savannah. I repaid that small kindness by backing into the fire hydrant across the street from their house, ripping the bumper off and putting a hideous rip into the side of the car. A great way to start off our new 91-day adventure! (Though, driving to Savannah with a duct-taped bumper and smashed-up door frame made me feel more authentically American.) Otherwise, the drive went smoothly, and we were soon installed in our new home, anxious to get out and explore the city. It had been ten years since I lived in the USA, and I had never spent much time in the South -- this was surely going to be a fascinating three months.

Our first full day in Savannah was warm and overcast. Luckily, the rain held off and we were able to spend the afternoon sniffing out the city.

We ventured into town on slow, rickety bikes which were colorful and full of character; in their way, perfectly embodying the essence of Savannah. A sleek black mountain bike would be out of place here, but ambling along the wide streets at 8mph on these quirky old things, we blended right in.

Over the course the day, I gathered the same impressions of Savannah which must strike every newcomer to the city. The haunting beauty of the . The crowded riverside promenade with its shops and tour boats. The incredible Victorian architecture. The parks and squares, with their monuments to Savannah's rich history. I've always felt that large buildings and houses evince an air of mystery; spacious mansions, with innumerable rooms and hidden spaces, simply beg an imagination to run wild. And Savannah has hundreds of such houses! Biking around them, especially on a dreary day, was enough to send shivers down my spine.

But what impressed us most of all was the people, and the relaxed way of life which seems to reign here. Nearly everyone was smiling, happy to stop and chat. Savannah boasts an eclectic populace, where proper old ladies share the squares and sidewalks with panhandlers and flannel-clad students. It's an old city, but with a vital infusion of youth to keep things fresh. Thanks to SCAD, the Savannah College of Art & Design, I think this city must have a higher percentage of hipsters than even Williamsburg, New York.

We'll be writing in detail about the specific squares, shops and restaurants we encounter, as well as aspects of the city's history. And I'll be interested to see how my perspectives on Savannah evolve over the coming months. Or perhaps: how I evolve. An afternoon spent in the rocking chair on the front porch, sipping sweet tea, is already sounding mighty good...

Occupying 30 acres between Drayton and Whitaker Street, Forsyth is Savannah's answer to NYC's Central Park. It's not as massive as its counterpart, but blends more seamlessly into the city, and has long been a part of its history.

Forsyth Park was built in the 1840s and christened in honor of John Forsyth, a former statesman and Georgian governor. The park's massive fountain, crowned with a female figure and flanked by spitting geese, was inspired by the Parisian fountain in the Plaza de la Concorde. With water shooting haphazardly in all directions, it's one of the most recognizable landmarks of Savannah, appearing in films like 1962's Cape Fear and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.

Three monuments in Forsyth Park commemorate Savannah's contribution to American wars. To the north, there's a dedication to the Vietnam War. An impressively large memorial to the Civil War's Confederate dead is in the park's center, with the moving biblical inscription: "Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live" (Moving, and distressingly pro-zombie). And at the southern end is an interesting tribute to the Spanish-American war, when the US helped liberate Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Philippines and Guam from Spanish influence.

Though the northern third of the park is shaded and tree-filled, the rest is wide open, with gorgeous lawns that host weekend picnics and pick-up sports. There's a caf, a visitors center and an open-air stage which hosts summer concerts, as well as something I'd never heard of before: a Fragrant Garden for the Blind. The gate was locked, but I stuck my nose through the bars and took a long whiff. Smelled like trash and roses.