Today felt a bit strange. My stomach decided to quietly protest for most of the day, maybe in solidarity with the New York Times staff, so I moved delicately as I tried to figure out what it wanted. This is a tricky proposition at the best of times, but I must have done something right, because I feel just fine as I write this. 

I bolted out of Jacksonville and drove the half hour to Georgia. The tropical foliage became much less prominent, and by the time I crossed the border I was wholly back in the South. The cast of the trees, the fading strength of the heat, and the return of farmland all showed the change. I turned the air conditioning off for the first time since Alabama and let the open windows cool the car. 

The Florida-Georgia border

I progressed slowly, paying close attention to my stomach and attending to it with fluids and bananas. After a long stretch behind the wheel, I pulled into Savannah, which is everything that Jackson, Mississippi was not. The streets were full of people and vibrant energy. I walked through the districts, impressed by the variety of plant life that grew within the city limits. Trees were constant, and ivy occasional. Some buildings still displayed Southern Gothic flair. I was quite disappointed that I had to spend an hour at the laundromat.

Savannah, GA

Not much else to report—just plugging along to North Carolina. See you tomorrow.