South of the Border: Day

Road trips are good metaphors for how I view life in general—it's less about the big picture and more about the little moments along the way—but finally making it to South of the Border was the highlight in a year filled with novelty architecture, muffler men and silly roadside attractions. I talked a little about how the trip came together in this post, but I'm still pleased that after talking about it and saying "I need to get there!" for so long, that I finally made it happen.

It turns out that all of the little things I thought were standing in my way—money, time, someone to come with me—weren't so hard to work out once I decided to really make a plan. I get asked sometimes how I do "so much," which is relative of course —and probably skewed by my online presence, trust me there are days when I do absolutely nothing—but I get derailed by my own silly misconceptions and anxieties just like anyone. I had been planning an epic South of the Border road trip for years, but once I decided that I had to get there in 2017, everything fell into place.

It might seem ridiculous to consider seeing South of the Border as my greatest accomplishment of 2017—a year in which I also hiked the Inca Trail, deliriously sick for half of it, nonetheless. But it's less about the destination and more about having the conviction, about having a plan and following through, about recognizing what is right for your own specific life, about finding things that make you happy and about really doing them, about taking control and not being sidetracked by outside input.

There was a large portion of my life where I didn't feel in control of much. I wasn't happy with where I lived and much of my day-to-day life revolved around others peoples' schedules and feelings. It's an easy trap to fall into—gradually, and then all at once—but it can seem impossible to take the reigns again once you feel you've lost them. Of course life is full of moments and circumstances that are out of our control, but having a firm idea of what you want out of the controllable variables can make those unavoidable bumps much less scary.

We stayed overnight in the motel and our room was clean and much bigger than I expected. In the morning, it was foggy and deserted which gave the entire place a sort of post-apocalyptic feel (that I loved). We had breakfast in the Sombrero Room (again, not to be confused with the steakhouse housed in an actual sombrero-shaped building) and wandered around trying to soak in all of its brightly-colored kitsch. South of the Border has definitely seen better days (to be fair, we were also there in October) but everything looked freshly painted and well-loved.

We were just about to leave when my mom suggested that we wait a few minutes until 10 am, when the (also sombrero-shaped) observation tower opened. I was concerned about our time frame for the day, and cautious about running out of daylight but in the end she was totally right. We'd driven too far to leave without seeing everything that South of the Border had to offer. Also, admission was only $2/person and we ended up having the observation deck all to ourselves, so always listen to your mom!

South of the Border might be a silly, outdated, culturally insensitive roadside attraction—useful to most people only for the bathrooms—but it will always mean more to me than anyone could know. This trip marked a sneaky turning point in my life—it wasn't the first road trip I planned, and it won't be the last, but it was the one that made me realize that my life truly is mine.

South of the Border: Night

Back in June, when I was laying on the ground in a tent, dying of an undetermined illness two days into a four-day hike of the Inca Trail, all I could think of was South of the Border. Not actual Mexico, but the Mexican-themed roadside attraction just south of the North Carolina/South Carolina border in Dillon, South Carolina. That might seem like an odd thing to be thinking about after I just emptied my stomach and my bowels into a hole in the ground most generously referred to as a "toilet." But! I had been wanting to go to South of the Border for a while and despite the fact that I hadn't been able to find anyone willing to go with me, I vowed that I would make it there somehow before the end of 2017.

Our Peru/Colombia trip was 14 days, and was wonderful for a lot of reasons—and kind of awful for a few other reasons—but after I got back I knew that I was going to put a pause on international travel for a while and concentrate on the US destinations that I had been longing to see. South of the Border had ascended to the top of that list after I knocked off a few others—a Wigwam Motel, Lucy the Elephant, The Big Duck—and when my friend Jim went in May I was literally seething with jealousy (in a nice way, especially after he sent me the kindest souvenir package to hold me over until I could visit on my own).

Soon after returning to the states, I was having breakfast with my mom when I mentioned that wherever the rest of the year took me, I was going to make sure to get to South of the Border—even if I had to go alone. She immediately said, "I'll go with you!" followed by "What's that?" Once I explained, she was thankfully still on board and we decided to go in the beginning of October. Our road trip spanned four days—with us arriving and staying at South of the Border on the second night—and took us through nine states. We made around 30 stops and I hate to pick favorites but of course South of the Border was the standout.

We arrived after dark, and I had booked a room so that we could see it both at night, and during the day. Although both views have their charms, South of the Border really shines at night (literally) and I brought my tripod along in hopes that I would be able to capture at least a tiny bit of its neon magic. We were there in the off-season, so it was nearly deserted—just as I'd hoped. We ate dinner at the Sombrero Restaurant (confusingly not housed in the building shaped like a sombrero, which is a steakhouse) and our waitress was straight out of Central Casting (Hi Betsey!). The salad bar, however, is shaped like a sombrero, and we shared a BLT (meh) and jalapeño poppers (always a good decision).

After dinner, we went into one of the several gift shops where I very quickly spent nearly $100 on entirely essential souvenirs—floaty pens, flip flops, a t-shirt, an ashtray, a notebook, magnets, coasters, a mug, a cup and a Christmas ornament—and then ventured out with my camera. Because it was late and nearly empty, I was able to really take my time and try my best to capture the bright neons that have been beckoning motorists to pull over since 1950. 

Charleston: Cemeteries

In addition to several church graveyards located in the historic district of Charleston, there is a large group of cemeteries just to the northeast of downtown. Magnolia Cemetery was dedicated in 1850; St. Lawrence Cemetery was the third Catholic cemetery in Charleston, and was established in 1851; and Bethany Cemetery was established in 1856 by St. Matthew's Evangelical Lutheran Church when its first cemetery reached capacity during a yellow fever outbreak. There may be other smaller cemeteries as part of this group (sort of like the "cemetery belt" in Queens), but these are the three main ones I remember visiting.

We took Uber to the cemeteries because they were a bit far from our hotel, but they were very close to Martha Lou's Kitchen where we (over) ate our weight in fried chicken, collard greens, mac n' cheese and several other sides before our flight back to New York. It was the warmest day of our trip—in the 70s—and the perfect end to a flawless trip.

We came across a section of St. Lawrence Cemetery (I think) devoted to the those killed in the Civil War. I noticed immediately that they were Confederate soldiers and civilians, which of course makes sense in South Carolina (the first state to succeed), but it's not something I'm used to seeing in my New York / New England cemeteries explorations. Anything referencing the Confederacy is always jarring—especially the flag—but stones like the "unknown child of the Confederacy" are universally sad.

Speaking of children, it seemed like a lot of the stones that caught my eye were memorials that featured a child in some way. Two stones made note that they were the "only child," which makes the loss seem even more devastating, and several featured nearly life-sized babies peacefully asleep. The cradle-shaped stone was especially unique and had several toys—including a rubber duck—that looked as if they'd been left fairly recently, despite the grave dating to the 1880s.

While nothing could top the Unitarian Church graveyard, I'm glad we got to experience a different kind of Charleston cemetery. These large, sprawling cemeteries reminded me of Green-Wood or Bonaventure, though maybe not quite as picturesque. Francesca spotted the guy above from afar and she pointed out how much the lights and darks made him look like a skeleton, making him one of our favorite—and spookiest—finds to date.

Charleston: Signage

I noticed as I was going through my photos from our recent trip to Charleston that I had so many photos of beautiful signage. I'm a graphic designer by day, so I'm programmed to notice nice lettering, and no matter where I go you can bet on me being drawn to good signage. Charleston was full of wonderful hand-painted signs, beautiful scripts and even a few neon goodies.

On our mini-road trip, we passed a roadside shop, which we stopped at following our exploration of the Old Sheldon Church ruins. Although we were lured in by the promise of pie, they didn't have many—but they did have a wide variety of ciders and other tasty treats. We sampled everything we could, and I left with an armload of souvenirs (which I mostly ended up eating myself).

Many stores (especially on King Street) had beautiful, tiled entryways spelling out the name of the store. Most of the time the names no longer matched the store occupying the space, but it's such a wonderful touch—and show of faith in a retailer's longevity—that's really missing from modern-day storefronts.

Of course I took special note of the funeral homes, of which we saw several. The wording "home for funerals" is phrasing I don't ever remember seeing before Charleston (maybe it's a Southern thing?). Don't iron curlicues instantly make a sign look important and a bit old-timey?

We didn't see as much neon in Charleston as you see in New York or other cities, but that script on the American theater marquee is just about as perfect as you can get. I know we're not supposed to judge books by their covers, but I'm not embarrassed to admit that a lot of my decisions in life are based on how something looks—I'll frequently purchase something based on superior packaging (all of other things equal) and I've eaten at countless diners based solely on signage. This isn't a foolproof method, of course, but I figure there are worse ways to go through life than being guided by beautiful design.

Charleston

The main reason we went to Charleston in the beginning of February was because of a JetBlue deal that got us from JFK > Charleston for $96 roundtrip. My friend Francesca and I had been to Savannah in 2015, New Orleans in 2016 and we were eager to round out the Holy Trinity of Southern cities with Charleston. I had been told countless times that Charleston was "prettier than Savannah," by several different people, and I love Savannah so I had high hopes for its sister city.

We had a nearly-flawless four-day trip, but both of us agreed that Charleston was our least favorite of the three Southern cities we've visited together. That's not to say Charleston didn't have its charms, but it just felt a bit more polished and less unique than Savannah or New Orleans. Savannah has a Spanish moss-covered, slightly crumbling and overgrown quality to it, while New Orleans has a lock on culture—music, drinks, style—that we just didn't feel in Charleston.

I don't mean to go full Debbie Downer on Charleston, and it's sort of silly to compare it so harshly with other cities—the only reason I mention the comparison is that Charleston had always been brought up to me in such a way (especially whenever I'd mention Savannah). The main thing Charleston seems to get very right is their food. Thanks to Francesca's excellent planning, we basically never stopped eating—from thick-cut bacon and grits at Hominy Grill, to dinner at Husk (widely regarded as one of the best restaurants in the country) with multiple plates of fried green tomatoes in between.

We took two ghost tours, saw Rainbow Row, strolled through church graveyards, lusted after adorable row houses, met a super chill dog, browsed markets, bought Moon Pies for our co-workers, ate donuts, explored some more cemeteries, marveled at the amazing collection housed in the Calhoun Mansion, took a mini road trip (to a plantation, the Angel Oak and church ruins) and stuffed ourselves silly with fried chicken at Martha Lou's Kitchen (made by Martha Lou herself).

And then, right before we took a car to the airport, I finally fulfilled my life-long dream of eating a Charleston Chew in Charleston while (poorly) doing the Charleston.

Where we stayed:

Days Inn | Francis Marion Hotel - both excellent locations, but the Francis Marion was definitely worth the extra $$.

We rented a car from:

Enterprise (cheap, within walking distance of our hotel and they have after-hour returns).

Where we ate:

Hominy Grill for brunch | Early Bird Diner(I had the "FLT" with the "F" standing for fried green tomatoes) | Glazed donuts | Martha Lou's Kitchen | McCrady's Tavern | Husk

What we did:

Unitarian Church graveyard | Ghost tour | Haunted Jail tour | Calhoun Mansion tour

Old Sheldon Church Ruins

One of the main reasons I had for renting a car for a day on our recent trip to Charleston was to visit the Old Sheldon Church ruins in Beaufort County. After we visited Magnolia Plantation and the Angel Oak, we drove about an hour west to check out the ruins. I became aware of the ruins thanks to Kaylah of The Dainty Squid, who shares my love of all things creepy, and I couldn't pass up the chance to see Spanish moss-covered ruins surrounded by a graveyard.

Built in the 1750s and originally known as Prince William's Parish Church, the church was burned by the British during the Revolutionary War. It was rebuilt, only to be burned again (or more likely just torn apart) during the Civil War as General Sherman cut a path of destruction from Savannah to South Carolina. There's enough left to get a general feel for the layout and size of the church—I can see why this is such a popular spot for weddings that they had to erect a sign stating that unauthorized events were prohibited on the property.

The churchyard also contains a handful of graves and tombstones, including that of Colonel William Bull, a prominent figure in the development and design of Savannah—he also funded the construction of the church and it was called "Sheldon," after his plantation. The tombstones vary widely in design and age and they're scattered kind of haphazardly around the property. There were several groups of people that visited the ruins while we were there so it doesn't exactly feel abandoned—but I'm glad that despite the many attempts at destruction, the Old Sheldon Church is still accepting visitors.  

Charleston: Unitarian Church Cemetery

We went on a ghost tour on our first night in Charleston, which is one of my favorite ways to be introduced to a city. I've been on enough ghost tours now to realize that they're definitely lying to you, but the places they show you and most of the history is very real. I had the Unitarian Church Cemetery on my list already, but it was a stop on the tour as well—or rather the gate was, since the cemetery is closed and locked at night. Our guide told us that several people had inexplicably passed out while standing outside the gates—which can't possibly be true, right?—but his spooky stories made me even more eager to actually see the inside of the cemetery. We went back the next day, and were thrilled with what we found.

We walked by several churchyard cemeteries on our trip, but if you only go to one, Unitarian is the one to see. The Unitarian Church of Charleston was founded in 1787 and it's one of the oldest of its kind in the country. The graveyard is small, but it's packed with interesting headstones and a huge variety of plants. Upon first glance it might appear as if the cemetery is abandoned, but I overheard a woman explaining that "it actually takes a lot of maintenance to look this overgrown."

There is pretty much no better cemetery dressing than Spanish moss, and even though some of the trees had lost their leaves they were still dripping with the always-spooky moss. The graveyard has a Secret Garden-vibe that is so lovely—the entrance gate puts you in an alleyway so the cemetery is hidden from the street on three sides. I remarked immediately after entering that this was one of my favorite cemeteries, a distinction I don't make arbitrarily.

Neighboring St. John's Lutheran Church also has a graveyard, albeit not as picturesque as Unitarian's. They were once separated by a fence but now sort of bleed into one another so I'm counting them as pieces of a whole. That incredible "Memento Mori" skull stone is actually part of St. John's and is one of the best skull-and-crossbones renderings I've seen. The graveyard also had "DANGER DO NOT ENTER" tape wrapped around a few stones forming a scene straight out of my Halloween parties.

The Unitarian Church Cemetery is supposedly haunted by the ghost of Annabel Lee— subject of the famous Edgar Allan Poe poem—although we couldn't find evidence of her grave despite having a (poorly-drawn) map from our ghost tour guide. I don't need a famous ghost story to get me into a cemetery, but it doesn't hurt either.

Charleston: Magnolia Plantation + Gardens

Our first stop on our mini Charleston road trip (before we visited the Angel Oak) was to Magnolia Plantation and Gardens, which is located about 30 min north of the historic downtown. Nearby Drayton Hall was closed for maintenance, which they do only one week of the year (lucky us!), but Magnolia definitely satisfied my historic home requirement for the day.

Magnolia claims to be "Charleston's most visited plantation," and it's the oldest public tourist site in the Lowcountry, as well as the oldest public gardens in America. The grounds were open to the public in 1870, but the plantation was founded in 1676 by the Drayton family and is still owned by descendants today. Magnolia has America's oldest and largest collection of camellias and azaleas, and even in February there were already beautiful blooms.

There have been three main houses on the property throughout its history, the first two of which burned down. The house that you can currently tour was built prior to the Revolutionary War near Summerville, South Carolina and floated down the Ashley River to Magnolia. It was built onto the first floor of the second house, which was all that remained after General Sherman burned his was through the South during the Civil War.

The property borders the Ashley River, and includes a swamp, ponds, several bridges and a petting zoo. The deer were super aggressive, the ducks were jerks and apparently the peacocks startle easily, but the goats were super chill and I fell in love with the very chubby PigPig, despite having eaten many of his relatives during our trip.

Bonus! On the road to Magnolia, we passed Timbo's Hot Boiled Peanuts trailer, which unfortunately appears to have gone out of business despite having an "OPEN" sign in the window. I'm bummed that I wasn't able to try a boiled peanut, which, when it comes out of an Airstream on bricks from a man named Timbo, is surely as authentically Southern as it can get. 

Charleston: Angel Oak

When we were planning our recent trip to Charleston (my first!) I found a few things that I wanted to see outside of the walkable historic district so we rented a car for a day. One of the must-sees on our list was the Angel Oak, a 500-year old Southern live oak located on John's Island. The tree is featured so prominently on Charleston marketing materials and brochures that we were surprised to find that it was on the outskirts of town, about a 30 min drive from downtown.

The oak, now owned by the city of Charleston, is 66.5 feet tall, 28 feet in circumference, and produces shade that covers 17,200 square feet. I knew the tree was huge, but I was still surprised by its size and spread. Some of its branches could be huge trees themselves—they twist and wind up and down, duck under the ground and come back up again.

Some of the branches have been held up by posts or cables, and it's miraculous that a tree of this size has survived and continues to grow. The area around the tree was threatened with development in 2012 but it was successfully stopped due to concerns that the tree's groundwater and nutrient supply would be in danger. Although the Angel Oak isn't the oldest tree in the South, it's still spectacular and it reassures you in a way that only nature can of not only the fragility of life, but also of its enduring strength.