I hadn't traveled in five years. Five years. Since my arthritis got bad enough that walking more than a block left me in pain for days. Since I had to stop mid-vacation in San Francisco because I couldn't handle another hill. Since I became the person everyone had to wait for, the one slowing the group down, the one suggesting we skip things because I was too tired.
I stopped traveling because travel stopped being fun.
Then someone told me about Savannah, Georgia. "It's completely flat," they said. "You can rest everywhere. There's a free trolley." I didn't believe them. But I was desperate enough to try.
That trip changed everything. For the first time in five years, I felt like a traveler instead of a burden. I'm writing this sitting on a bench in Forsyth Park, visiting Savannah for the third time. Here's why this city works when you have limited mobility, and why I think you should come here.
Savannah sits at sea level. Perfectly flat. Not "mostly flat with some gentle slopes." Not "flat except for this one neighborhood." Actually, genuinely, completely flat.
Do you understand what this means if you have arthritis? Chronic pain? A heart condition? Any situation where hills equal exhaustion?
It means you can walk for hours without that moment of dread when you see the street tilting upward. It means your knees don't scream at you by noon. It means you're using 40% less energy than in a hilly city, which translates to actually enjoying your afternoon instead of collapsing in your hotel room.
I walked more in Savannah than I had in years. Not because I pushed myself. Because I could. Because flat terrain doesn't punish your body the way hills do.
The DOT (Department of Transportation) Express trolley is free. Fully wheelchair accessible. Runs every 15-20 minutes through the entire historic district.
Here's why this matters: I could be independent again.
My first day in Savannah, I walked to the river. After an hour, I was tired. In any other city, this would mean: find a taxi (expensive), wait for a rideshare (unpredictable), or give up and go back to the hotel (disappointing).
In Savannah? I walked to the nearest trolley stop. Waited 12 minutes. Got on the free trolley. Rode back toward my hotel. Got off when I felt rested. Walked some more.
The trolley removed the anxiety of "what if I get too tired?" Because the answer is always: take the trolley. It's always coming. It's always free. It goes everywhere you want to go.
I didn't have to ration my energy. I didn't have to plan every movement like a military operation. I could just... exist. Travel. Explore. And when I needed to rest, help was 15 minutes away.
Cost: FREE (seriously, completely free)
Frequency: Every 15-20 minutes
Hours: 7 AM - 7 PM daily
Accessibility: Fully wheelchair accessible with hydraulic lifts
Coverage: All major attractions in historic district
How to use: Just wait at any trolley stop, wave it down, tell driver where you're going
Savannah has 22 public squares. Each square has multiple benches under massive oak trees. You're never more than three blocks from a place to sit.
This sounds like a small thing. It's not.
In most cities, finding a place to rest means finding a café and buying something, or sitting on a curb like a desperate person, or just powering through the pain because there's nowhere to stop.
In Savannah, resting is built into the city's design. You sit on a bench under a 300-year-old oak tree draped in Spanish moss, and it looks like you're enjoying the view, not collapsing from exhaustion. You fit in with the tourists taking photos and the locals reading books.
Nobody knows you're in pain. Nobody knows you desperately needed to sit. You're just another person enjoying Savannah's beautiful squares.
This dignity matters. This invisibility of limitation matters.
Savannah moves slowly. Not because it's boring. Because it's Southern.
Restaurants don't rush you. Shopkeepers chat. Tour guides adjust their pace. There's a cultural acceptance of taking your time that makes your physical limitations feel less limiting.
I spent two hours having lunch at The Olde Pink House one day. Just lunch. The server never once gave me a "are you going to order more or leave?" look. In fact, she brought me sweet tea refills and asked about where I was from and told me stories about Savannah hauntings.
This is a city where sitting on a porch with tea for an hour is an activity, not laziness. Where taking your time is expected, not indulged. Where your pace doesn't feel wrong.
For someone whose body forces them to move slowly, this culture is healing.
I made the mistake of staying outside the historic district my first trip. I spent half my energy just getting to places. Don't do this.
Stay in the historic district. Specifically, stay near one of the squares. My favorite hotel is The DeSoto Savannah on Madison Square.
Here's why location is everything in Savannah:
From the DeSoto, you can walk (or take the trolley) to:
- 8 different squares within 10 minutes
- River Street in 15 minutes
- Forsyth Park in 20 minutes
- City Market in 10 minutes
- Dozens of restaurants, all close
When everything is close, you conserve energy. When you conserve energy, you can actually enjoy your vacation.
The DeSoto isn't the cheapest option (around $200-250/night), but it's central, accessible, and worth every dollar. If that's too much, look at the Hampton Inn on Bay Street or the Homewood Suites. Both are accessible and well-located.
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Here's what I actually did, not what a guidebook says you should do:
Check in. Rest. Walk around Madison Square for 20 minutes. Dinner at hotel restaurant. Sleep early. This is permission to not pack Day 1.
Take trolley to Forsyth Park (the big one with the famous fountain). Walk around the park's paved paths. Sit on benches. People-watch. This is Savannah's Central Park. Lunch at The Collins Quarter (accessible, excellent brunch). Afternoon rest at hotel. Evening walk through nearby squares.
Take trolley to River Street. Browse shops (mostly accessible, a few have steps). Watch ships on the Savannah River. Lunch overlooking water. Take trolley back when tired. Afternoon rest. Sunset on hotel rooftop or Forsyth Park.
Morning tour of Mercer Williams House (Ghost Story house) or Owens-Thomas House. These are partially accessible—main floors usually are, upper floors aren't. Lunch at Mrs. Wilkes' Dining Room (family-style Southern food, accessible). Afternoon explore City Market area. Early dinner.
Bonaventure Cemetery (accessible, hauntingly beautiful). OR Tybee Island beach (20 minutes away, accessible beach access). OR just wander squares you haven't seen. This is your "no agenda" day.
Notice what's missing? No 8 AM starts. No 10-attraction days. No guilt about resting. Two activities per day maximum. This is the pace that works.
Almost every restaurant in Savannah's historic district has a level entrance. This is unusual and wonderful.
My tested accessible favorites:
Historic mansion, incredible Southern cuisine, completely accessible first floor. The she-crab soup is mandatory. Make reservations. Splurge-worthy.
Australian-influenced brunch spot. Level entrance, accessible restroom, excellent coffee. The ricotta hotcakes changed my life.
Since 1933. Burgers and beer. Accessible. Locals' favorite. The fried pickles are the correct choice.
Family-style Southern lunch. You sit at big tables with strangers and pass dishes around. Accessible entrance. Cash only. Worth the wait in line (bring a folding seat if you can't stand long).
Level entrance. The best ice cream in the South. The line moves fast. This is non-negotiable.
Don't be afraid to call ahead and mention you need accessibility features. Savannah restaurants are gracious about this. They'll hold a specific table, tell you the best entrance, make sure you're comfortable. Southern hospitality isn't a myth here.
The humidity is real. Spring and fall are perfect. Summer is brutal. If you have chronic pain that worsens with humidity, avoid June-August. Come in March-May or September-November instead.
The city is walkable but you don't have to walk. The trolley goes everywhere. Even on my best days, I used it liberally. Don't feel like you're "cheating" by using the trolley.
Squares are not all equal. Some have more benches, better shade, cleaner restrooms nearby. Madison and Chippewa are my favorites. Whitefield is small but lovely. Troup is in a quieter part of town.
Ghost tours are surprisingly accessible. Many walking tours will accommodate slower paces. Tell them upfront about your limitations. Or do a trolley ghost tour instead.
The city is genuinely friendly to dogs and mobility aids. I saw more folding canes, walkers, and wheelchairs in Savannah than in any city I've visited. It feels normal here.
The real accessibility feature of Savannah isn't the flat terrain or the trolley or the benches. It's the psychological safety.
In most cities, I'm constantly calculating: Can I make it to that restaurant? How far is the bathroom? What if I get too tired? Is there anywhere to sit? The mental load of access planning is exhausting.
In Savannah, that anxiety disappeared. I knew I could sit whenever I needed. I knew the trolley was coming. I knew nothing was uphill. I knew restaurants would have level entrances.
For the first time in years, I stopped thinking about my body's limitations every single moment. I just... traveled.
This is what accessible travel should feel like.
If you're reading this because you've stopped traveling, or you're scared to try, or you had a bad travel experience that made you feel like you can't do this anymore—I get it. I was there.
I was the person who cried in my San Francisco hotel room because I couldn't keep up with my friends. Who canceled a Paris trip because the thought of Metro stairs was overwhelming. Who stopped even looking at travel websites because it hurt too much.
Savannah brought me back. Not because it's perfect or because my body magically healed. Because it's a city designed in a way that accidentally accommodates limited mobility beautifully.
You can do this. You can travel. It doesn't have to look like other people's trips. It doesn't have to be Instagram-perfect. It can be slow and restful and full of trolley rides and bench-sitting. And it can still be magical.
"I felt like a traveler again, not a patient. I felt like I belonged in the city, not like I was struggling through it despite my body."
That's what Savannah gave me. I think it could give that to you too.
Book a hotel in the historic district. Download the DOT trolley schedule. Make a list of which squares you want to visit. Find a bench to sit on for absolutely no reason.
And remember: this city is designed for taking your time. You're not behind schedule if you're sitting on a bench watching the fountain. You're not being lazy if you take the trolley instead of walking. You're not missing out if you skip an attraction because you're too tired.
You're traveling at your pace. And in Savannah, your pace is perfect.
DOT trolley route: www.catchacat.org (free trolley info)
Accessible tours: Book through Viator with accessibility notes
Best visiting months: March-May, September-November
Wheelchair/walker rental: Scootaround Savannah (if needed)
Accessible taxi: Yellow Cab Savannah (912-236-1133) - call ahead
Comfortable walking shoes with good support. Folding cane with seat (game-changer for spontaneous rest). Lightweight fan for humid days. Water bottle. Sunscreen. Comfortable clothes that breathe. Lower expectations about covering everything. Permission to rest.
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