There is so much about USA I love. These last few trips I have eschewed going to the bigger cities and have gone quirkier and deeper. Santa Fe. New Orleans. Savannah. (Tulsa, Huntsville, Portsmouth coming up!)
And it's incredible how much character keeps springing out of these cities masquerading as towns. I remember I was sitting in the main city square in Santa Fe one evening, and the local populace put together a full fair, with stalls for food and games, and the children came out in costumes and danced. I could well have been witnessing a village celebration. In Savannah, as you mull peacefully on life under a live oak in one of the 23 parks which are strewn through the historic Center of the city, you will hear the clippity-clock of a horse carriage passing by and then the whoosh of a stagecoach! In New Orleans, the steam boat on the Mississippi has all the trappings of yore - the cartwheel, the churning water and the shrill horn.
Of course, all these cities have the advantage of an unusual history which they've taken care to preserve and protect along the years, to their economic advantage, but also and a means to give a fresh perspective to life for the residents.
To be able to give a gentler version to life, maybe more meaning, without sacrificing livelihood, is not a small thing. I reflect on how Kolkata, my city, invariably encourages the gentler pace, the lingering, the conversation, the friendship, the mull, the arts. In spite of its rabid politics, it has still not sacrificed its poetry and its arts. The clubs have given a place to indulge in one's hobbies and to just sit by and drink and reflect. And these provincial cities in the States have mastered it, with the additional advantage of the pristine preservation of the past.
Is there much to see in Savannah? Maybe, maybe not.
If you are able to tease yourself away from that silly smile on your face and the sleepiness which comes from sitting and reading too long in a gorgeous park, there is history replete with cemeteries, churches, monuments, a river and ghosts. There is a nifty street full of charming local products and a slew of wonderful eateries. It has the premier school of USA for arts and design and is the place where the entire momentous movement of Girl Scouts started off from. And because it is a Southern state, with a history of slaves and rich plantation owners and trading moguls, there are some wonderful houses to explore, full of beautiful rooms and gorgeous architecture.
I loved the fact as to how happy people were here. Whoever I spoke to - and lots of them are young people who have come to study here - didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave. One boy, with two degrees in dramatic writing, here from a small town in Alabama, was happy to work here and not go back home to a bigger city. Sustenance and expense was of course a reason, but so was the all-embracing nature of the place.
Savannah was lucky, that it grew with the prosperity of its residents - cotton for the nation, a river to transport it and cheap slaves to work it all on. And then when Sherman was leading the Union army, burning everything to scorch on his way through the States, Savannah wisely surrendered - and was saved both the fire and the plunder.
The city's beauty is a direct descendant of the wise decisions of the past.
Of course, it's hilarious to read how the city itself was set up because a large-hearted Britisher couldn't bear to see educated friends being thrown into jails because of debts and wanted to help them find a place to own and work in. And found Savannah the perfect place. Cheap land, river, fertile soil. Why cheap? Aha, Indian land! It's hilarious how the indignities of the past is couched in carefully-crafted language - 'pacts with the local people' and monuments to honour the 'Indian leaders'.
On my last evening I sat in a park with the 'world famous in America' Byrd's oat cookie and two scoops of Leopold's 'utterly loved' mint ice cream. Sun and shade were twinkling in the gentle breeze. The coruscating cold weather of the last two days had suddenly converted into 25 degrees. And I sat in my T-shirt and read.
I realized how, however much imperfect the past, or worrisome the present, any given moment can bring it all together in seamless ways. Life can be full if we, in that moment, decide to make it so. We can let both history and geography, the borders and the skin colours, our accents and our food preferences, all assimilate in one big acceptance. And simply give into the only feeling which matters in any moment - be at peace with oneself.
I did not doze but it felt I was freshly alive.
*All photographs by me
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