New Bikes & Hot Sauce

My transition into Charleston has been full of highs and lows, but I am quickly realizing how opportunistic a local must be. I remember in March when I first came to Chucktown for my first interview, I rounded the corner of the Vendue and Church and saw a graveyard. Passing a few authors I looked up and saw the grave site of John C Calhoun. There I felt the culture of the city, the past, present, and my future.

After spending the past two weeks in my new home, I quickly figured out downtown life in Charleston is both closely knit, but  compartmentalized. My first week was nothing but chaos, trying to get geographically settled and more importantly trying to find a job. While driving in my car I took wrong turns down One Ways, ran through stop lights, and even stopped in parking lots just to figure out where I was coming from and headed to.

I quickly realized a bike was necessary. My bike provided a more comfortable feel  that conformed me to the city. I rode to the barbershop, down to Rainbow Row, and around the harbor to find a couple fishing spots. Some of the people I met were awesome. Jacqueline, an eccentric local who enjoys crabbing filled me in about her new entrepreneurial opportunity. Ghetto Country Hot Sauce. Bottled up in mason jars is a sweet, but spicy hot sauce that kicks the back of your throat when on shellfish, seafood, chicken, and more. That day I had the opportunity to help Jacqueline out. She needed labels and I knew how to make them. Now she is distributing her hot sauce at every Caribbean market on the Peninsula!

Things mostly slowed down after that, I got hired for a company that does Door to Door for AT&T. I said no thanks after a week. Something about spending 70 hours a week on walking the streets, bothering neighbors, and sweating my ass off just did not seem as good as the pay check had to offer. Back to my life of running in the morning and writing throughout the day. The coolest part about Chucktown has got to be the history. Every day I pass that graveyard on my bike toward the library and Waterfront Dog Park. I know the only history I will make here will be the history I write for myself.


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