Swabby, the Greek, and River Street

 

Dear John, dear sweet uplifting John, he's always hungry.  He loves a three course meal.  And he loves eating out.  So first thing, as we tumbled out of bed, bleary eyed, and coffee groping, he says, "Let's eat at the Breakfast Club.  Ian and I ate there yesterday and it's the best coffee."

Notice I didn't eat there yesterday.  I was "sick" of eating out and "sick" of eating.  I stayed in our room puttering, munching on snacks we'd packed for the trip and on any leftovers in the motel room's fridge.  The time alone was okay, too.  After Ian's graduation and subsequent moving out 3 years ago, I find I'm getting a bit used to time alone.

"Okay, I'll go with you, but I'm not standing in that long line, I'll wait in the golf cart 'til you get close."  And it was a long line.  To me, you just eat, and go on your day, to John a long line of anticipation is rail track to gold.

Well, the blacked out windowed building with it's suede looking black banner sign, opened its doors and ate people 2 to 6 at a time, until it gobbled us.  We sat in a very back corner and watched our cook chop, flip, and serve up pancakes, sausages, and more.  The young skinny guy, had a beard and mustache, and wore a red bandana tied in back.  I told John, "He looks like a swabby off the deck of a pirate ship."   John smiled, he was sipping this great coffee, you know, "Arrgh, Black Beard would've hired him."  

The rest of the day was spent in Savannah to the west of Tybee connected by Highway 80.  We went to River Street.   River Street lies along the Savannah River coming from the Atlantic Ocean and going west to Augusta, Georgia.  This port was where goods were brought in, even slaves, and where cotton was exported.  One business took over The King Cotton's Palace to become The Cotton Exchange Tavern.

Another business, the Olympic Cafe, got its name from the nearby Olympic Cauldron, that carries a flame from the 1996 yachting event.  That's where we ate; a nod to Nikki who is half Greek where the cuisine is Greek...and delicious!  Nikki introduced us to Greek dipping oil -- olive oil, salt, and parmesan.  

Then it was off to the Five and Dime where nothing is a nickel!  But the souviners are unusual and it's my favorite shop.  We bought Jayden, our grandson, a small soft shark that when squeezed, a foot and leg comes out...JAWS!  Lilly loves my seashells, she listens for the sound of the ocean, so we purchased a tiny one with brown spikes and another one about the size of your palm, so she can exclaim, "Mommy and baby."

And then there was a requested stop from sis and Spencer, to buy cans of peanuts.  Spencer wanted a years supply of bacon and cheddar peanuts, and Mary wanted Georgia roasted.  We ended up purchasing 7 cans of expensive peanuts, all to warm the cocles of the hearts at home, LOL.

Leaving the cobblestones of River Street, we drove through Savannah to visit Olgethorpe Park, his statue stands in the center.  My father, David L. Leeman, (he always included the L for Leo his middle name) did extensive research on our history long before the internet and Ancestry.com and said a Leeman was a friend and assistant to Oglethorpe, so when in Tybee we go to Savannah to read about Oglethorpe and enjoy the Spanish moss hanging from the trees, the calmness of the atmosphere, the look of the wrought iron filigree of the haunted house nearby, and put a period to it all with a visit to the Espresso Gallery coffee shop.

No tea for we, Americans drink coffee!

It's a cozy little shop, jammed packed this day with drinkers.  Every table is different, every upholstered arm chair is cozy but none alike, some red velour, some naughehyde.  There's a conversation setting around a fireplace probably built in the 1750's.  Men with crossed legs reading a paper.  Married couple looking expectantly towards the coffee bar.  Woman sipping Chai tea and restraining her white haired terrier.  Tourists, with energy of excitement, barely sitting still in their seats browsing pamphlets and maps. College student studiously reading her book and ignoring me sitting nearby.  All are particularly quenching their thirst and enjoying the hominess of Savannah.

Home is where the heart is, right?  Though this is temporary, something in the soul says this was home.  

I do love this place, love to visit, relax, and absorb the atmosphere and its history.  But the call of home is starting to tingle -- tingle for my own conversation pit and my own coffee.  Maybe I can buy a coffee mug from Tybee and call it enough.  Enough for one more year, at least, smile and wink.