Our just-renovated, historic-meets-modern Savannah vacation rentals are the result of having stayed in Airbnbs for nine months!
—pandemic inspired—
We are one of those crazy families who, when told we had to stay put in our homes because of a global pandemic, sold the house, bought a ginormous car, and toured the U.S. with our two youngest kids and dogs. From Virginia, to Wyoming, to California, to Florida, and so on, we “road-schooled” and explored as much as possible (all while masked up and at a hefty distance from other people).
And so, for nine months, we called Airbnbs all over the country “home.” Without realizing it, we became experts at the pros and cons of staying in a short-term rental.
—savannah, georgia—
At the end of this gallivanting, we were faced with the question, “Well, where should we live?” I mean the whole country was an option! As a native New Orleanian myself and as parents of one former and one current SCAD student, we’ve always been drawn to Savannah. It exudes the N’awlins vibe and is captivating in its architecture and personality. Most importantly, it’s extremely walkable! And so it went. We moved to “The Hostess City” to start this new chapter of our lives.
—two rentals of our own—
As luck would have it, and I say that in all seriousness, a house went up for sale on what we consider to be the most beautiful street in the world - Gaston (Sorry, Jones!) - and with it came two rentals: one in the carriage house and another in the garden apartment. It’s as if our nine-month journey around the U.S. had been preparing us to live in this house, to share its beauty and charm with others, and to put our newfound rental expertise to work.
—’twas meant to be—
After owning the house for only a few weeks, our then 11-year-old daughter came running inside, shouting, “Mom, you HAVE to see this. You HAVE to see this! Now!” And so I follow her into our very, very old courtyard, which is enclosed in old Savannah gray brick. She points to an obscure area in the back, near where the horses used to be brought in. “Do you see it?” she asks. And I didn’t. I had no idea what she was talking about, but then, plain as day, I did see it. Inscribed into a brick was the following: K P. All of the bricks are plain except this one.
My husband and I always ask for signs that we’re walking the right path, making the best life choices, etc. When we saw this inscription from 1868, we knew that buying this house was positively the right home for us. Why? Because we are Kelly and Patrick!
