I am a Gypsy at heart. There is nothing like adventures on the road. There is nothing like meeting new people, exploring new places and new experiences! I love driving through new places, stopping and checking out local restaurants (never chains!), shops and chatting up the locals. I've met the coolest people and found the greatest stuff! This is the first part in a series of blogs about my recent buying/scavenging/vacation trip from Michigan to Florida and back again.
When I know I will be traveling through an area, I also have a huge list of thrift and antique stores, upcoming Estate Sales, Auctions and whatever else I think looks interesting in the area in case I have time to check any of them out. I know I can't hit everything on my list, but I like having options. I am always ready to change course if something better comes along, because flexibility is key.This is extremely important for me especially because my GPS has a personality disorder and doesn't work very well. This can be tremendously frustrating at times, as you can imagine, but I've learned to adapt, when I'm not on a tight schedule. I try to look places up beforehand if I'm expected at a particular time, just in case it's an off day for my GPS.
Recently I drove down to Florida for my daughter's Spring Break. I went early so I could stop in Seneca, SC and spend a few days with my sister. Then I drove down to Savannah, GA and spent a few days there, just because I have always wanted to go. I also figured I could find a few places to pick up stuff to sell along the way. Way more than I expected in that department, for sure. Plus, I. Love. Savannah. Seriously, it's my current favorite city (my favorite does tend to change frequently, I'll admit, based on wherever I've traveled last.). My daughter flew down and joined me in Florida about a week later.
Driving from Seneca, SC to Savannah, GA really only takes a little over four hours if you take the freeways. I had no intention of taking freeways and didn't. It took me twelve hours and I loved every minute of it. My first stop was Anderson, SC, not far from Seneca and which I hit about 8:20am. This was my planned stop for breakfast. I had researched breakfast places in Anderson and had a spot picked out to try, I don't remember what it was. On that particular morning, the letter P and numbers 1 and 0 weren't working on my GPS and I couldn't type in the address of the place I wanted to go. Plan B is it. I just decided to take small streets skirting outside the downtown area instead of driving straight through, keeping an eye out for local diners.
When I travel I always have a long list of local places to eat at for every town and city I will be passing through. I am a total foodie, I admit it. Food is very important to me and if I'm going somewhere and need to eat, I want it to
be somewhere good. Here's how I see it. Food is necessary for life.
Life is short, it just doesn't last that long. There is only so much you
can do while you are here on earth. I have to eat, so, I want
the food I eat to be an experience as well (preferably a good one!), since it is something I HAVE to spend
time doing. I want it to count. I also think trying local places when you travel is part of experiencing a new place. I will never understand how someone can go to Japan, or England for that matter, and eat at McDonalds. Seriously, why go anywhere?
Yes, that's how I am. Which means, if I'm not cooking it myself (which I do quite well, thank you), it needs to be something special for me to spend money and time on it. Otherwise, I might as well just keep peanut butter and crackers in my car. Except that I am extremely allergic to peanuts, so maybe I should switch that to Almond Butter and crackers.
Driving from Seneca, SC to Savannah, GA really only takes a little over four hours if you take the freeways. I had no intention of taking freeways and didn't. It took me twelve hours and I loved every minute of it. My first stop was Anderson, SC, not far from Seneca and which I hit about 8:20am. This was my planned stop for breakfast. I had researched breakfast places in Anderson and had a spot picked out to try, I don't remember what it was. On that particular morning, the letter P and numbers 1 and 0 weren't working on my GPS and I couldn't type in the address of the place I wanted to go. Plan B is it. I just decided to take small streets skirting outside the downtown area instead of driving straight through, keeping an eye out for local diners.
When I travel I always have a long list of local places to eat at for every town and city I will be passing through. I am a total foodie, I admit it. Food is very important to me and if I'm going somewhere and need to eat, I want it to
be somewhere good. Here's how I see it. Food is necessary for life.
Life is short, it just doesn't last that long. There is only so much you
can do while you are here on earth. I have to eat, so, I want
the food I eat to be an experience as well (preferably a good one!), since it is something I HAVE to spend
time doing. I want it to count. I also think trying local places when you travel is part of experiencing a new place. I will never understand how someone can go to Japan, or England for that matter, and eat at McDonalds. Seriously, why go anywhere?Yes, that's how I am. Which means, if I'm not cooking it myself (which I do quite well, thank you), it needs to be something special for me to spend money and time on it. Otherwise, I might as well just keep peanut butter and crackers in my car. Except that I am extremely allergic to peanuts, so maybe I should switch that to Almond Butter and crackers.
I found a place, but almost missed the one I stopped at. It was tucked away up a side street from the side street I was driving on. I saw a sign with a coffee cup out of the corner of my eye, made a u-turn and turned up the street. It was a little, unprepossessing place called "Grace's Coffee House and Restaurant." I almost kept going because there weren't many cars in the parking lot and I figured by 8:30 the place should be busier if it was any good. Fortunately, I was starving and really needed coffee at that point so I decided to go for it.
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| Here's the sign, with the coffee cup! |
Really, really good decision. Good coffee, which is always a plus and literally the best omelet I have ever had in my life (and I have had a lot, I am a breakfast and especially omelet aficionado, seriously.)! I ordered it with grits instead of potatoes, of course. I mean I was in South Carolina. Anyone who has spent time down south and tried to go with local cuisine even a little knows that there is a huge variation in the quality of grits. The grits at Grace's were very good. Creamy but not thin and not too chunky, with a lot of flavor. The best Grits I've ever had was at a small place on St. Johns Island in SC, recommended by my sort of mother-in-law (my brother-in-law's mom), and that's the standard I use when talking about Grits. Here is my scale of Grits: A place up North (of which I've tried many - ranking 1 and the ones at the little Cafe on St. Johns Island ranking 10, these grits were between an 8.5 and 9. They were pretty darn good.
Normally when I order an omelet I eat about half of it.This time I finished every last bite of my veggie omelet (spinach, onions, tomatoes, mushrooms and cheddar), even though my stomach was complaining because it was so damn good I just couldn't stop. I did not manage to finish off the grits though and took only a few bites of toast, even though it was what looked like home-made cinnamon raisin toast. It was good, really good, but I'm just not that much of a bread person. I'd rather fill up on the omelet and grits.
Apparently the place was mostly empty only because I arrived slightly before the regulars. As soon as I was seated, people started showing up. There were a lot of Senior Citizens, not surprising on a Monday morning, and many of them had grandchildren in tow. There were also a few businessmen mixing working and eating. When I left, the parking lot was jammed full and people were very happy to see me go, because that meant another table would be up momentarily. I left a hefty tip and I smiled at them all as I waddled my way back to my car.
Normally when I order an omelet I eat about half of it.This time I finished every last bite of my veggie omelet (spinach, onions, tomatoes, mushrooms and cheddar), even though my stomach was complaining because it was so damn good I just couldn't stop. I did not manage to finish off the grits though and took only a few bites of toast, even though it was what looked like home-made cinnamon raisin toast. It was good, really good, but I'm just not that much of a bread person. I'd rather fill up on the omelet and grits.
Apparently the place was mostly empty only because I arrived slightly before the regulars. As soon as I was seated, people started showing up. There were a lot of Senior Citizens, not surprising on a Monday morning, and many of them had grandchildren in tow. There were also a few businessmen mixing working and eating. When I left, the parking lot was jammed full and people were very happy to see me go, because that meant another table would be up momentarily. I left a hefty tip and I smiled at them all as I waddled my way back to my car.
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| This is a picture of the Angel Oak, St. Johns Island near Charleston, the oldest Live Oak in the world, where the cafe with the best grits in the world is, I am pretty sure it's called The St. John's Island Cafe. If you're ever there, you should check it out! |
When I know I will be traveling through an area, I also have a huge list of thrift and antique stores, upcoming Estate Sales, Auctions and whatever else I think looks interesting in the area in case I have time to check any of them out. I know I can't hit everything on my list, but I like having options. I am always ready to change course if something better comes along, because flexibility is key.This is extremely important for me especially because my GPS has a personality disorder and doesn't work very well. This can be tremendously frustrating at times, as you can imagine, but I've learned to adapt, when I'm not on a tight schedule. I try to look places up beforehand if I'm expected at a particular time, just in case it's an off day for my GPS.
Once back on the street, I turned around and drove back up the street a couple of miles where I had passed a tiny little thrift store called The Hospice of Upstate Thrift Store before finding Grace's (it hadn't shown up on any of my searches though!). It is tiny but I made of couple of spectacular jewelry finds for prices I was very happy with! These little, out of the way thrift stores are great, sometimes. Often, I'll leave with nothing, but when they're good, they are Good! Worth taking ten extra minutes to stop and check, more if you find good stuff.
If you're looking at taking up scavenging, here's a tip, (besides be ready for everyone in your life to think you've lost your mind), buy cheap. Free is better. Every once in a while you will find a tiny thrift shop where they get a volunteer who follows Ebay prices. Then you're screwed. Everything is ridiculously expensive. As a merchant you would never be able to come close to recouping your costs. So if you find a place like that, just forget it, cross it off your list no matter what type of stuff they have. If you're just looking for a final product, then you're ok, but honestly, how many people looking for themselves spend the time to check out every thrift shop within a 50 or more mile radius, much less when traveling? Not many and most regular thrift shoppers stick with the established ones, Goodwill, Salvation Army, Value World, etc. These companies know it's not worth their while to try to gouge people and never try to charge Ebay prices, although they are getting more expensive all the time. You do need to know what you're doing, at any thrift store, how much things are worth, how much time it's going to cost you to make it saleable, etc., that's for sure. No provenance at thrift stores!
A Vintage Dress Clip, probably 1930's
I found at this little thrift store - Score!
If you're looking at taking up scavenging, here's a tip, (besides be ready for everyone in your life to think you've lost your mind), buy cheap. Free is better. Every once in a while you will find a tiny thrift shop where they get a volunteer who follows Ebay prices. Then you're screwed. Everything is ridiculously expensive. As a merchant you would never be able to come close to recouping your costs. So if you find a place like that, just forget it, cross it off your list no matter what type of stuff they have. If you're just looking for a final product, then you're ok, but honestly, how many people looking for themselves spend the time to check out every thrift shop within a 50 or more mile radius, much less when traveling? Not many and most regular thrift shoppers stick with the established ones, Goodwill, Salvation Army, Value World, etc. These companies know it's not worth their while to try to gouge people and never try to charge Ebay prices, although they are getting more expensive all the time. You do need to know what you're doing, at any thrift store, how much things are worth, how much time it's going to cost you to make it saleable, etc., that's for sure. No provenance at thrift stores!
A Vintage Dress Clip, probably 1930's
I found at this little thrift store - Score!
My ten minutes stretched into 20+, because I did find a few things, then I was back on the road. Next stop, Abbeville, SC and another tiny little thrift store, called Faith Homethrift Store which was right off the main drag. Another one that hadn't shown up on the search engines and I only found because I stopped for gas. Tiny store, jam packed with stuff, most of it junk, as usual. I did find a couple of perfect, beautifully made 70's Bridesmaid dresses with what appeared to be home-made tags in them
though. I asked the elderly Lady behind the counter if she knew anything about the dresses and she was a gold mine.She told me all about the seamstress and designer, whom she had known growing up and who had passed away twenty years ago. She told me all sorts of stuff which is like the best thing ever when you are in the vintage world. Better than Santa Clause, seriously!
The lady (seamstress and designer) was a Greek Immigrant with quite a few children and a husband who "drank like a fish and was good for nothin," according to local knowledge, apparently. The lady had started out making clothing for a few friends and it went from there. She totally supported her family and put seven kids through college from the mid-1950's through the early 1970's. She had a nice store-front shop for about 25 years and was well known and respected in the community. Pretty impressive for anyone, much less an immigrant with no education who was supporting an entire family and a deadbeat husband. Wow. People want to stop immigration because why, again? Do we really want to skip the inventiveness, drive and can-do spirit in the gene pool that immigrants bring? Really? People, come on! Ok, sorry, slight political and ethical sidetrack there.
All right, back to the story, and I am quoting verbatim here, to the best of my memory and the notes I made when I got back to the car. "Oh yes, anyone who was anybody had all their formal clothes, Christenings, weddings, proms, everything, made by Polly. Girls used to save up for years to have her make their wedding dress. Only people with money could have her do the Bridesmaid dresses too, especially by middle of the 60's, whew! Those did not come cheap, honey! Plus, all those Greek people came clear from Augusta and further than that to see her!"
She (the lady behind the counter, who, alas, I did not get a name from, I was so excited about the story with the dresses), also told me that the family no longer lived in the area and that she thought her daughter had moved up to Greenville, SC and she really wasn't sure where the rest of the kids were, she thought one had gone to medical school somewhere and one had gone to school in Athens "with all them hippies" but she didn't think any were still around. I tried, but this was all I have been able to find out about this seamstress, who also designed the dresses she made. If anyone has any, please share! There just isn't any information out there about her. I feel very fortunate to know this much! I did find the family name in Greenville, SC searches though, there was a lady with the same surname who served as a volunteer for the Greek Orthodox Church there and was 86 in 2003. Whether she was a relation or not, I don't know. Apparently there is quite the Greek Orthodox Community in South Carolina stretching from Greenville to Augusta, GA. Who knew? America as the Melting Pot is fascinating! I love it!
though. I asked the elderly Lady behind the counter if she knew anything about the dresses and she was a gold mine.She told me all about the seamstress and designer, whom she had known growing up and who had passed away twenty years ago. She told me all sorts of stuff which is like the best thing ever when you are in the vintage world. Better than Santa Clause, seriously!
The lady (seamstress and designer) was a Greek Immigrant with quite a few children and a husband who "drank like a fish and was good for nothin," according to local knowledge, apparently. The lady had started out making clothing for a few friends and it went from there. She totally supported her family and put seven kids through college from the mid-1950's through the early 1970's. She had a nice store-front shop for about 25 years and was well known and respected in the community. Pretty impressive for anyone, much less an immigrant with no education who was supporting an entire family and a deadbeat husband. Wow. People want to stop immigration because why, again? Do we really want to skip the inventiveness, drive and can-do spirit in the gene pool that immigrants bring? Really? People, come on! Ok, sorry, slight political and ethical sidetrack there.
All right, back to the story, and I am quoting verbatim here, to the best of my memory and the notes I made when I got back to the car. "Oh yes, anyone who was anybody had all their formal clothes, Christenings, weddings, proms, everything, made by Polly. Girls used to save up for years to have her make their wedding dress. Only people with money could have her do the Bridesmaid dresses too, especially by middle of the 60's, whew! Those did not come cheap, honey! Plus, all those Greek people came clear from Augusta and further than that to see her!"
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| A picture of the Square in Downtown Abbeville, SC |
After Abbeville my next stop was Aiken, South Carolina. I had a few shops in and around Aiken I planned to check out, but first lunch. I was getting hungry and decided I felt like trying "the best cheeseburger you'll ever eat!" After all, who knew when I'd be passing through Aiken, SC again, and how could I live if I had never tried the best cheeseburger ever? A Pool Hall in Aiken called City Billiards makes the claim to the "best cheeseburger you'll ever eat!" and this time my GPS actually let me type in the entire address I needed. Woo - hoo. That may seem excessive for those with GPS systems that actually work, but mine is very temperamental, it's a big deal when it works normally!
City Billiards has been in Aiken since 1957.
City Billiards in Aiken, SC is open from 10AM to Midnight and I was there a little late for lunch, about 1:45PM and I almost had the place to myself. This again made me question my choice, but hey, I was there and it had certainly turned out well in the morning. I ordered a burger, medium, with Swiss cheese, spicy mustard, grilled onions and mushrooms. The burger was good, really good actually but I'm probably not the best judge for best burger, ever. I can tell you when it's a really good burger. I know when it's better than Fast Food, but if they hit the Good Plus point, they pretty much are the same to me. For me, the best part turned out to be the somewhat inebriated lady with extremely highlighted 80's hair sitting at the bar and flirting with the bartender who was at least 25 years her junior. She was definitely a regular, friendly, inquisitive and turned out to be the highlight of my drive.
Southern Speak is all about connections, real, implied or perceived. They are sometimes temporary, but they are still real. These connections can even be connections of the spirit, sometimes those are the best ones, but those always start with something else. You have to get in there first. It doesn't matter if you don't have any real connections with the person you're talking with. Seriously, if you have a cousin, great grandfather, grand-uncle, great, great grand-uncle or friend of a friend who worked/lived/experienced/did something or whatever somewhere nearby, you can pull it into the conversation, make it personal and it somehow validates you as a Southerner. You do need to be telling the truth though. As long as you're being upfront about the connection, however vague, if you provide the needed details,you're ok. I don't know how else to explain it, but when I'm talking with someone (generally someone over 50, but not always, I've had it happen with 20 somethings as well) who has spent their entire life in the Deep South, it just kind of happens. It has to be real though. You can't just make it up. It doesn't matter how tenuous the connection is, it has to be real.
My adopted in-laws - my sister's real
in-laws and why I spend so much time
in South Carolina!
I have had this happen more times than I can say. This connection, forged through "Southern Speak," somehow changes my status from a Yankee (the "Damn" before Yankee is always implied, though rarely spoken). I did actually have a great, great Grandmother who grew up on a Southern Plantation, and there have been times those genuine Southern Roots, on one side of my family at least, have helped with the transition from Yankee to an honorary southerner, but I rarely mention it. At various times made new friendly acquaintances who have offered to let me stay with them anytime (and even live with them indefinitely, seriously!) while involved in one of those conversations. It's a world of its own, the South, that's for sure, and I love that side of it.The people are like nowhere else I've ever been and if there's one thing Southern People do better than us Westerners and Yankees, it's make connections with other human beings. I've learned a lot from them, actually.
City Billiards has been in Aiken since 1957.
City Billiards in Aiken, SC is open from 10AM to Midnight and I was there a little late for lunch, about 1:45PM and I almost had the place to myself. This again made me question my choice, but hey, I was there and it had certainly turned out well in the morning. I ordered a burger, medium, with Swiss cheese, spicy mustard, grilled onions and mushrooms. The burger was good, really good actually but I'm probably not the best judge for best burger, ever. I can tell you when it's a really good burger. I know when it's better than Fast Food, but if they hit the Good Plus point, they pretty much are the same to me. For me, the best part turned out to be the somewhat inebriated lady with extremely highlighted 80's hair sitting at the bar and flirting with the bartender who was at least 25 years her junior. She was definitely a regular, friendly, inquisitive and turned out to be the highlight of my drive.
It
was probably ten minutes after I sat down before she started talking to me. I got up and gave the order
for my lunch to the bartender, because there wasn't anyone else around. It
was about another five to eight minutes after that before she turned and
yelled/slurred in my direction (bear with me as this story progresses,
please. I'm trying to recreate the accent by weird spelling), "Heay
there, y'all 'er a yaynkee, ain 'cha?" I answered in the affirmative and
told her where I was from. "So what'r y'all doin' awaay down heere
then?" was the next question. The bartender caught my eye at this point
and made the universal bartender gesture for "do you want me to get rid
of her?" I shook my head and after chatting briefly, Charlene** joined me for lunch. Well, I had lunch. She had several more bears and a
few french fries. I am pledged to buy her
beer and french fries any time I'm in town, which probably won't be
often but I swear will happen again.
I
should probably explain here that I've spent enough time in the South
that I'm pretty fluent in Southern Speak. Not the accent, I can do that
too but don't choose to use it consciously unless I'm on stage, although
if I've been down there very long it always creeps into my voice on its
own. What I call Southern Speak (because this is my own personal
definition, not something widely known or accredited) is a way of talking that
somehow pulls everyone in the room and pretty much your entire
acquaintance into your conversational circle. It's kind of like the gravitational pull of the Sun. It involves your
mental attitude and your karma, although I've rarely heard that word
used down south in small towns.
 |
| This is the bar where I met Charlene. A lady with a colorful past which she was kind enough to share with me, both in terms of a great afternoon and actual items she was willing to part with for me! |
Southern Speak is all about connections, real, implied or perceived. They are sometimes temporary, but they are still real. These connections can even be connections of the spirit, sometimes those are the best ones, but those always start with something else. You have to get in there first. It doesn't matter if you don't have any real connections with the person you're talking with. Seriously, if you have a cousin, great grandfather, grand-uncle, great, great grand-uncle or friend of a friend who worked/lived/experienced/did something or whatever somewhere nearby, you can pull it into the conversation, make it personal and it somehow validates you as a Southerner. You do need to be telling the truth though. As long as you're being upfront about the connection, however vague, if you provide the needed details,you're ok. I don't know how else to explain it, but when I'm talking with someone (generally someone over 50, but not always, I've had it happen with 20 somethings as well) who has spent their entire life in the Deep South, it just kind of happens. It has to be real though. You can't just make it up. It doesn't matter how tenuous the connection is, it has to be real.
My adopted in-laws - my sister's real
in-laws and why I spend so much time
in South Carolina!
I have had this happen more times than I can say. This connection, forged through "Southern Speak," somehow changes my status from a Yankee (the "Damn" before Yankee is always implied, though rarely spoken). I did actually have a great, great Grandmother who grew up on a Southern Plantation, and there have been times those genuine Southern Roots, on one side of my family at least, have helped with the transition from Yankee to an honorary southerner, but I rarely mention it. At various times made new friendly acquaintances who have offered to let me stay with them anytime (and even live with them indefinitely, seriously!) while involved in one of those conversations. It's a world of its own, the South, that's for sure, and I love that side of it.The people are like nowhere else I've ever been and if there's one thing Southern People do better than us Westerners and Yankees, it's make connections with other human beings. I've learned a lot from them, actually.
Once
we made it past the preliminaries and when I had explained what I was doing
there to her satisfaction (with plenty of interjections, questions and
suggestions from Charlene), my interest in vintage started her reminiscing about her past, and
it was quite a colorful past from the sound of it. I had told her about
the Bridesmaid Dresses I found in Abbeville. She knew the seamstress,
not personally, but was well aware of the the name. "Oh yeah, them
dresses weren't from no factory workers' weddin' that's fer damn sure!
You didn't get those made 'less you could pay!"
I ended up spending the entire afternoon with Charlene. She is a story unto itself and so if you want to hear about it, you will have to check out the next blog. That's the first installment of my trip from Seneca, SC to Florida. I could keep going but it is quite a bit to read at one sitting, not to mention, Charlene really deserves an entire Blog to herself. Yes, she's that extraordinary. Until next time. . . Cheers!
**Charlene is a common southern names used as a pseudonym for the woman I actually spoke with, who prefers to remain anonymous.
I ended up spending the entire afternoon with Charlene. She is a story unto itself and so if you want to hear about it, you will have to check out the next blog. That's the first installment of my trip from Seneca, SC to Florida. I could keep going but it is quite a bit to read at one sitting, not to mention, Charlene really deserves an entire Blog to herself. Yes, she's that extraordinary. Until next time. . . Cheers!
**Charlene is a common southern names used as a pseudonym for the woman I actually spoke with, who prefers to remain anonymous.
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