Text 23795, 106 rader
Skriven 2015-02-07 20:14:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: overnite Charleston 190
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Three mansions, three completely different tours.

Lilli needed the miles, and as Charleston is but an
hour flight from National, 3 hours with a stop in
Charlotte for more miles (and as little as a hundred
round trip). I agreed to meet her there for a short
outing. Met her at the airport, where she got a really
cheap car, thank you Autoslash, and we were on our way.

We had reservations at the brand new Hilton Garden Inn
right by the Ashey River opposite Albemarle Point: a
pretty nice property, and we got, owing to our lofty
status, a room with an excellent romantic sunset view
across the water.

Got our traps settled and then walked around downtown,
which is as quaint as New Orleans but with more attitude,
I think you'd call it. We had the good sense to take the
car to White Point just in case it rained. Found a free
parking place right by one of the cannons - they are
still, by the looks of things, fighting the Civil War here.

We walked in the afternoon light around the waterfront to the
famous pineapple fountain, spectacular in its silly way, and
to Waterfront park, which truth be told is pretty nice,
though the wind was picking up, and any thought of a ferry to
Fort Sumter, say, was nixed. We strolled around Queen St. and
King St., listening to the chatter of the tour guides, as a
drizzle turned into a steadier rain. Got to the car just as
the heavens opened up, and we got a torrential, driving
downpour right at rush hour: the last half mile to the hotel
took almost half an hour. Though we'd thought of finding
some nice comforting Southern food, this was deemed to be a
poor idea, so we just camped out at the bar at the hotel and
had snacks and beer (in her case, an Australian Shiraz for
no more than twice what it should have cost).

At around 6 in the morning, chaos - lights flashing, a klaxon
blaring great guns. Fire alarm - we all piled out of there in
various degrees of disarray, clutching blankets or passports
or children, whatever was most precious. Pretty soon we were
all out of there. I took a tour of the outside and soon figured
out what the problem was. The fire department was more
circumspect, and it was an hour before we were allowed back in.
In the meantime Lilli and I visited the Marriott next door (its
breakfast wasn't out yet) and amused ourselves for a while.

Eventually they found the problem - a valve had busted and
drained the water out of the sprinkler system, and it was
gushing out a pipe into the street.

Well, by this time we were well and truly awake, and it was
decided that we would go out early and do the stately houses
thing.

Our first stop was the Nathaniel Russell House on Meeting St.,
known as one of the great Federal houses (down here they're
called "Neoclassical), and one of the grandest residences in
the city. It's been lovingly and expensively restored by the
Historic Charleston foundation and is definitely worth a visit
both for the architecture and the docent lecture that touches
on everything from 19th century international trade to the
European textile industry to the composition of local plaster.
The tour takes half an hour, and, sadly, the only unguided
wandering is through the garden and the slave quarters.

The Calhoun Mansion is completely different. It's an occupied
house (a Washington lawyer, apparently, in the house proper
and tenants downstairs). Built in the 1870s as the most
elaborate and largest single-family residence in the city,
it's as nouveau as the other is patrician. Even the name is
not properly come by - the house, built for a wealthy local
businessman, was inherited by a Calhoun who was only distantly
related to any Calhoun of any historical interest. Anyhow, it's
a packrat house of a very high order, all the rooms jammed with
stuff, some apparently worth looking at. Sadly, the fairly well
informed guide had only time to point out some of highlight
knickknacks, for example a cradle that had been occupied by
some tsar or another in his infancy, a large quantity of
Tiffany lamps and chandeliers, an assortment of big game hunt
trophies, porcelain, glassware, furniture, bric-a-brac of a
better than average order. We were allowed limited opportunity
to poke around (ropes and barriers were in place), which, for
someone like me with limited eyesight, was unsatisfactory. I
did note what almost definitely was a Cassatt, unmentioned in
the guide's spiel or in the literature, and what looked to be
a Klimt and a Beckmann. Strange house, strange tour, rather
expensive for what you actually saw.

The Aiken-Rhett House is the only standing but completely
unrestored mansion in the city. I am guessing that lack of funding
informed this condition, but the foundation has used this to its
advantage, presenting life pretty much as it originally was. The
tour was by audioguide, which meant that one could revisit spots
of particular interest. Also, though, no questions. This was the
home of at least one of the governors of the state and several
other eminent citizens and as such saw a great deal of activity
in its day. How it got to its current sort of sad condition is
not quite clear, but suffice it to say that the Carolinas have
had their ups and downs. As unrestored, there is but a minimum
of furnishing, which means that the place is a little empty and
spooky. The slave quarters and stables (converted over for
horseless carriages later on) were particularly so.
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