Eight years. Eight years since I experienced face-slapping culture shock. A defining moment in my life when I moved from Duluth, Minnesota about to start middle school to Savannah, Georgia then, later, to Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. I realize some of you may not have ever heard of these places, either did I when I moved. My older sister and I always joked looking back at the move, that the move was ridiculously insane, due to the fact that no one in our family understood where we were moving – and we probably – no, definitely should have. First things first, it’s not exactly proper to call the coast of Georgia and South Carolina the “south”, it is referred to as the Lowcountry – a strip of coastline encompassed by flat, marsh topography (which smells like a boys’ middle school locker room and rotten oysters).
The Lowcountry is a significant strip of coastline that produced goods such as indigo, cotton and rice by the hands of slaves on plantations in a sub-tropical climate in the 1800s and thrives on old money from such efforts. The Lowcountry today is known for its tourist appeal, sweltering climate, and seafood. But more than anything – it’s known for its history.
So, if any of you are planning a trip or thinking about moving to any of South Carolina’s sea islands or to a city living side-by-side with it’s defining history such as Savannah or Charleston, here are some things my mother never told me about the Lowcountry that I experienced first hand.
I’m sure some of you have heard of or have known of this little thing called southern hospitality – sort of like “Minnesota nice” that everyone at the University of Minnesota knows about. It’s just a chill attitude and acceptance upon a simple hello. It is this aspect of the south where the hosts and hostesses of a party or a gathering greet you, offer you drinks and tell you to “please, be comfortable” and they flash a smile and leave you to your own means. It’s less about chatting and more about being this butler-figure, almost.
Coming from the cold corner of Minnesota, it was extremely strange. Everything is so practiced – the smile, the elegant gesture towards their couch, the cheerful tray of small snacks and drinks served to you on a plate even to the way they dress. Everything is polished, nearly like a puzzle that fits perfectly in the palm of your hand. But, tread carefully, their hospitality isn’t a freebie. Southern hospitality is warm but also demands a certain amount of respect.
One immense mistake I had made when I went over to a friend’s house in middle school was, believe it or not, not addressing her mother as “ma’am” or her father as “sir”. I even got in trouble for it in middle school when my math teacher asked if I understood the topic and I answered with, “Yeah, thank you.” Then she chastised me and replied with, “It’s yes, ma’am to you”. Shunned from my classmates henceforth.
Anyways, back to being at my friend’s house, I said thank you but didn’t look in their eyes or smile at them as I said it. I didn’t shake their hands as I entered the room or take my shoes off right away. It’s not that they frown down at this, but it’s a way of showing respect and indirectly thanking them before and during my time allotted at their house for their hospitality and for allowing them in their home. You see, houses are a family’s castle – it’s their haven, so to be accepted into their house is a big deal.
So, if ever invited into a home, or even at a restaurant, always make eye-contact, smile, say thank you often. If you are not fully acquainted with those who are older than you, address and answer them with “ma’am” and “sir”, and go with the small talk. They’ll make small talk, so be invested in it and show that you’re grateful for their hospitality and their attention. You’re on their territory.
Don’t mess with their history. Ever. Don’t make fun of it, don’t argue with what they say, show respect and if it’s hard to, shut it. History is a living being here, education, events and lifestyles are run by history. It’s talked about frequently in school and signs with historical signs are everywhere.
The local Civil War history is a point of pride – so much so, that on Hilton Head Island, you’ll see huge signs with gates that say “Indigo Run”, “Hilton Head Plantation” and “Sea Pines” which are, yes, gated communities known (Not kidding) as plantations. When asked where people live they’ll say, “Oh, Sea Pines Plantation”. These are essentially, the only living spaces on the island and you’ll still see some along the Lowcountry. With thick slave-based agricultural wealth, it still makes me a little uneasy when I see the word plantation or people say they live in “Indigo Run Plantation” but that’s just me.
I had this argument with my history teacher in seventh grade when my teacher told me the Civil War was simply a “land-dispute” and slaves were only a minor part of it. Also stating, I know it to this day, that the “Confederates actually won, the Union simply stagnated the issue until Lincoln could address it”.
Not. Kidding.
So, just be wary of their history and their perspectives, they are passionate about it – complete with Civil War reenactments in Savannah, Georgia waving Confederate flags around like $100 bills.
Amazing. Period. Fresh, fantastic and utterly tasty, you will never taste such amazing seafood since it’s right on the coast. Also, don’t forget to order “Sweet Tea”. It goes perfectly with seafood. And yes, it is very, very different than ordering sweetened iced tea up north. If I’m being honest, it sort of tastes like downing a bottle of maple syrup.
…unless you want tiny bugs crawling up your arms or in your hair. It’s okay to touch and feel it, just don’t throw it at people or put it on your head or you’ll get attacked by an army of gnats. They’re beautiful in photos, though – and surprisingly enough, the moss isn’t a part of any tree. They’re actually a free-floating flowering plant that grows on trees but aren’t a part of any tree.
No, that boat by that pier is not floating on grass it’s just the low-tide of a marsh. Marshes have a distinct smell, you will never miss it – if you’re cruising on the Lowcountry you’re bound to smell it. Some people find the smell comforting, some find it absolutely disgusting. At times, you’ll think it smells like a warm house with a thick salty ocean scent – other times you might think it smells like B.O and rotten eggs (usually at low tide and mostly because of the oysters). So plug your nose or waft in the scent, your choice.
P.S. Don’t go in marshes, especially at low tide – crabs are everywhere and you’ll probably get sliced by oysters. Just an FYI.
Storms in the Lowcountry are insane, I’m not entirely sure why but I think the bulk of it is simply because of the heat, especially in summer. Just a while ago there was a 112 heat index in 93 degree weather. The storms are violent, loud and can last a while so be careful and don’t try to hit the beach if your forecast shows a 50% chance of thunderstorms. The riptides are beasts and will suck you in. If it starts raining, it will not just rain but pour – for hours. HOURS, I TELL YOU.
Polo Ralph Lauren. Lily Pulitzer. Vera Bradley. Kate Spade. Coach, etc. In Duluth, brand names aren’t that important. What matters is that you’re warm! At orientation at the University of Minnesota Duluth, I didn’t see a single person with a piece of brand name clothing! Bundled in plaid shirts, jeans and converse, sure but never a Lily Pulitzer top with a string of pearls around their neck.
Nope, sorry. They’ll have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. The closest I ever get to explaining it to my southern friends is that it’s kind of like a casserole. Everything in the south is fresh, colorful and light. They’re not big on meat, beans, hot dishes anything hearty really. And the worst part, NO TATOR TOTS AND NO CHEESE CURDS.
On Hilton Head Island we call it, “their island time” in which case, everyone take their own sweet time – with everything. It’s almost as if time slows, as if the heat or the palm trees have something to do with slowing the world down just a little bit. In Duluth, everything was sharp, quick because it’s cold, for one, and we’re all bustling to go inside. In the Lowcountry, everything feels like a watercolor painting, where everyone throws their feet back, puts their hands behind their head and stay out in the sun – for hours. It’s all about leisure and enjoying the moment – more about the journey of going places than reaching a destination – something I’ve admired here since I moved.
This is probably the hardest adjustment for locals; tourists are constantly stampeding through. During spring and summer is when it’s the absolute worst. No tourist knows where they are going so they drive about 30mph in a 50mph speed limit zone and they brake in the middle of the road because they just missed the turning lane for where they wanted to go.
The tourist stereotype is real as real can be; the full getup – fanny packs, sneakers with socks, floppy hats, huge beach bags – it’s a thing, and they pop out like sour apples.
Tourists take about 50 photos of the same thing; especially the marshes (which I never understand – it looks like a field – with a sky in the background).
Locals have special times in which they go to places, knowing when tourists aren’t there. We plan where we’re going because of the tourists! They are absolute tyrants.
I had no idea the Lowcountry was popular with all the celebrities! Johnny Depp has a house on Tybee Island, the last season of The Bachelorette was filmed on Hilton Head, Shia Leboeuf was in Savannah for a movie just this last week and well, got arrested for being a drunk public nuisance (but that’s besides the point), the SpongeBob Movie, The Conspirator, The Last Song and The Midnight Garden of Good and Evil was filmed in Savannah as well. Once in a while you’ll hear about celebrities taking a break in the Lowcountry. Keep an eye out!
Meeting anyone at private events, gatherings or private parties (common here) come polished. Always look your best, smile often and have polished manners. Reputations are of the upmost importantance here, much like they have their own society – especially on Hilton Head Island – a lot of elders come from old money dating back from the Civil War. There is a prominent society here, as well as families who have this local “power” thing going on. It’s almost as if you stepped back in time.
From Duluth, there wasn’t anything like that – there was no superiority complex, no private, elite gatherings where everyone had connections around the world – we’re all on the same page, and we don’t really give a crap if you’re wearing pearls and brands.
Image is everything, sad enough as that is. How you carry yourself, how you present yourself and how you speak. Your image is your reputation.
There are so many I can’t count. Somehow if you’re a part of the “Hilton Head Boat Club” (or something like that) you’re suddenly freaking awesome. Nearly all things cool or exciting are private or for “members only”, a lot of things are private creating this “elite” class of people.
Private schools are common, also. All of the private schools are in their own mini world and compete greatly with the public schools. I attended a private school and then transferred to a public school because the private school was way too much to handle (society and all) and my reputation as a person was completely ripped apart because I was going to the one “scary” public school on the island. I regret nothing.
Every school. Public and private – students had uniforms or a dress code. Student bodies have fought against this for all the years I’ve been here and we’ve lost to the board, stating that the uniforms and dress code made everyone look (excuse the pun) uniformed, polished and got rid of any animosity towards anyone or by anyone who wore brand names as it established a superiority complex among the students. Not joking.
Minnesota, be happy this isn’t you.
Narrow roads and enormous amounts of tourists all being forced to press and shove against everyone else to get to that one ice cream place across a busy road. Everything, and I mean everything, is cramped. The Lowcountry is a water bottle overflowing with ice. All houses are pressed up against each other, each with a sliver of land for a yard. Most roads are historic – their width made specifically for carriages, not cars (you’re better off walking everywhere).
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