Nashville or Savannah?

Savannah has a real beach day within reach. Tybee Island is about half an hour's drive away, with broad flat sand, gentle water for paddling children and a summer sea warm enough for long swims. The water is marsh-tinted rather than clear, and the town is low-key, but it is still the Atlantic.

Nashville is landlocked. Its nearest water is Percy Priest and Old Hickory lakes, where swimming areas are small and the local habit is a day on a pontoon boat. That makes a pleasant summer afternoon, but nothing to plan a trip around.

The two eat about equally well, but from different Southern traditions. Nashville's is inland and fried: hot chicken by the heat level, meat-and-three cafeterias, barbecue and Tennessee whiskey. Its chef-led kitchens in East Nashville and the Gulch, and the immigrant cooking along Nolensville Pike, give it slightly more range.

Savannah cooks from the coast: shrimp and grits, she-crab soup, Lowcountry boil and oyster roasts in the cooler months, often served family-style at long tables. Its finer restaurants sit in restored townhouses in the historic district, which makes a dinner out feel more like an occasion.

Savannah is the richer place for sightseeing, because the whole historic district is the sight. Oglethorpe's grid of moss-hung squares, the ironwork, Factors Walk, the Telfair Museums and Bonaventure Cemetery make walking itself the main activity, and the Owens-Thomas House deals honestly with slavery.

Nashville's sights centre on one subject. The Country Music Hall of Fame and the Ryman tour are excellent if you love the genre, and the Parthenon replica and the Frist add variety. Beyond Second Avenue, though, the city is mostly modern, with little of Savannah's sense of place.

Nashville goes out harder and later. Lower Broadway's multi-storey honky-tonks have a band on every floor and crowds into the small hours, and East Nashville's dive bars and cocktail lounges give a quieter alternative. Both cities draw bachelorette groups, but Nashville is built around them.

Savannah's evenings are looser and shorter. To-go cups let you drift between River Street, City Market and townhouse cocktail bars, but most of the city winds down well before Broadway does. St Patrick's Day is the great exception.

The two are about level, but the landscapes could hardly differ more. Nashville sits in wooded hills with limestone creeks, so outdoors means forest walks at Radnor Lake and the Warner Parks, an easy paddle on the Harpeth or a drive down the Natchez Trace.

Savannah is flat salt marsh and barrier islands, best seen from a kayak at high tide or on a dolphin-spotting boat trip, with herons and wood storks for birders. Both are hard work in the summer heat, and both are at their best in spring and autumn.

Savannah has the stronger day trips. Charleston is about two hours away, and Beaufort, Hilton Head, Fort Pulaski and the Golden Isles of Jekyll and St Simons give a run of coastal and historic outings, all by car.

Nashville's list is pleasant but smaller in scale. Franklin's Main Street and battlefields are the highlight, Leiper's Fork and Murfreesboro are nearby, and the whiskey distilleries around Lynchburg make a distinctive day out. Chattanooga is the only larger destination, and it sits at the far edge of a day's drive.

Both work with children, and Nashville has a slight edge in attractions built for them. The zoo at Grassmere, the Adventure Science Center's planetarium, the Lane Motor Museum and a lakeside water park fill rainy or hot days. Lower Broadway is no place for children at night, though, and you will spend long stretches in the car.

Savannah has no zoo, aquarium or theme park. Instead it offers shaded squares, trolley tours, the free river ferry, forts and ghost walks for older children, and a gentle beach and sea-turtle centre on Tybee. Families who like walking will find it easier going.

Savannah is much easier on foot. The historic district is flat and compact, and most hotels, restaurants and sights are a short walk apart through shaded squares, with a free shuttle and ferry to fill the gaps. Only Tybee, Wormsloe and Bonaventure need wheels.

Nashville's walkable core is small, covering Broadway, the Ryman and the Gulch. The Opry, the Hermitage and neighbourhoods such as East Nashville and 12 South are all drives apart. With buses only and heavy rush-hour traffic, most visitors end up relying on ride-hailing or a hire car.

Neither is a shopping destination, and what you will find differs. Nashville has a clear theme: boots, hats and rhinestone shirts on Broadway, serious guitar shops and Hatch Show Print's letterpress posters, with boutiques and record shops in 12 South.

Savannah's browse is gentler. Broughton Street's boutiques, art-school work, antique dealers and bookshops around the squares make it the better place for a small gift than for a statement purchase.

Both are pricey by Southern standards, with Savannah slightly easier on the budget. Its main pleasures, walking the squares, Forsyth Park and the cemeteries, cost nothing, but highway motels mean adding a car.

Nashville's downtown hotels jump at weekends when groups arrive, and ride-hailing across a spread-out city adds up. Its saving is that the honky-tonk music on Broadway has no cover charge.

Here Nashville is far ahead. The Grand Ole Opry plays several nights a week, the Ryman hosts touring acts in its famous pews, Broadway has bands from late morning, and songwriter nights let you hear hits from the people who wrote them. The Schermerhorn and the Tennessee Performing Arts Center cover symphony, ballet and opera.

Savannah's moment is the spring music festival in its historic theatres and churches, plus an autumn jazz weekend in Forsyth Park. Arrive at other times and you may find only a few bar bands and buskers.

Savannah is the better place to slow down, though neither has a spa culture beyond hotel and day spas. Its calm comes from the pace: benches under the oaks, inn porches and garden courtyards, best midweek in spring or autumn.

Nashville's downtown is built for noise. Rest there means retreating to leafy Belmont or Hillsboro, which feels like an escape from the city rather than part of it.