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Published: August 5th 2014
Over the week I have discovered that most Cornish bays share many similarities with their neighbouring brothers and sisters .Stone and white-washed cottages lead down to a little harbour or beach. However each bay has its own unique feel, which makes visiting these picturesque seaside towns quite addictive, even for a teenager! Similar but with an enchanting distinctness, each one holds a different character- Fowey was no exception.
When we arrived in the car park at the top of the hill, a sign informed us Fowey was pronounced 'Foy' to rhyme with 'joy'- we had been saved from another humiliating pronunciation realisation! As we walked down the hill, into the town, it was obvious that the feeling of joy was embedded into this little gem! Delis selling more cheeses than I had even heard of, ice cream shops selling fresh Cornish ice cream and Bakery's displaying homemade pasties with an array of fillings! I had never had a Cornish pasty- they were definitely weren't something I going to miss. Tacky seaside shops are replaced by caves of treasures. Glorious hand crafted gifts sat alongside other intriguing items, it made looking in these shops a very different experience from the normal
horror. The Joy intertwined in these delis and shops subconsciously transfers to the tourists and locals wandering around- there was a buzz in the air. As we walked down the main street, we discovered a cafe called 'The Well'. Stone white with a low doorway, we discovered it was the oldest building in Fowey dating back to 1430. This was not our only discovery, they allowed doggies and made a selection of gluten- free products. Perfect! Whilst my mum was a awaiting some gluten free scones to be fully baked in the oven, My Dad and I went on the hunt for the best Pasties! (my sister had flown home the day before) We decided on Pasty Presto, who's pasties looked and smelled delightful. Dad chose a traditional; I went for a southern American Empanada style one, flavoured with paprika and added sultanas. We enjoyed our lunch in the very busy little harbour, whilst looking over the water to Polruan- a village which you could get the 5 minute ferry to. Nothing could sing British joy louder than our time in Fowey. It was just the climb back up to the car that awaited us, but being full
of pasties and scones, we didn't mind one bit.
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