Honestly, the most inescapable thought I have in my head about Charleston is that College of Charleston girls are wicked hot. Like, blonde and tan and thin with legs up to their ears showcased by the teenciest shorts you've ever seen and Steve and I are currently nursing concurrent cases of whiplash hot.



But Charleston is more than the sum of its coeds. The downtown residential areas are lovely, though as you move farther away the possibly-being-gentrified and not-even-close-to-gentrification areas eclipse the loveliness fairly quickly. Most people we spoke to were quick to praise Charleston as a great place to live except for how expensive the housing is, and from our craigslist exploits it's easy to concur; to put it bluntly, to live downtown respectably would require a San Franciscan salary.

Other things we saw: scores of clean-cut college kids on cruisers; a gorgeous and well-maintained waterfront park; the east coast equivalent of Bay Street (in Emeryville), right down to the second story condos; and the ubiquitous side porch - one for each floor of the house, the better to cool oneself before the days of air conditioning - which makes every building seem half-plantation, half-boarding house.