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Visited April 28 - 29th.Written May 11, 2014
It was a "bags out at 7 a.m." day. Time to leave the lovely Cheltenham Park Hotel, an oasis set in the green rolling hills of the Cotswolds. The view from my window was mainly of deep green grass, a winding brook, a bucolic hillside scattered with dozens of sheep and their new born lambs. Ahh.... and the hotel had other things going for it starting with startling silence, fast wifi and really good meals. Life is indeed good.
The coach headed for Wales and soon the terrain changed from rolling hills to larger peaks and then into craggy mountains. All continued to be covered with ewes and baby lambs. It was amazing to watch as the babies nursed, slept, frolicked and tagged along after their mamas. Apparently they stay out in all types of weather and only get brought in near the barn when lambing is eminent. Hardy animals.
I knew little or nothing about Wales. I did have a distant cousin from Cardiff, the capital, whose name I can't recall, as a pen pal when I was about 11 or 12 years old. I knew it bordered England but that was about the sum of my knowledge. I learned that until the 13th century it was an independent nation whose Celtic people fiercely defended their sovereignty. Today the Welsh identity remains distinct mostly exemplified in the language called
Cymraeg which is a branch of Celtic and related to Irish, Scots Gaelic, and Breton. It is still spoken by about 1/2 a million in Wales. The Welsh word for their country is
Cymru (Kumree). the land of the Comrades. After a lunch stop we would be headed to the western coast called Snowdonia which surrounds the region's highest peak, Mount Snowden, a part of the Cambrian mountains. Our hotel would be right on the coast looking across to the Island of Anglesey. We would be staying within spitting distance of the medieval castle where Prince Charles was formally inaugurated as Prince of Wales in 1969.
It was a rare sunny day so everyone was anxious to get out of the bus in the little town of Llangollen, the site of our lunch stop. We scattered like pigeons chased by small boys in St. Mark's Square- some to the clean public restrooms (20 P a person), others to do some shopping, others to take photos of the famous canal built over the River Dee in 1805. Still others went to see the rebuilt steam railway engine originally built in 1862 but closed in 1968. It has been restored and runs a 7 mile route several times a day. The railroad was famous, back in the day, for offering steam train funerals, in the form of a mobile wake. These were stopped because it was feared that rail fanatics would have their ashes thrown into the fire box and scattered all over the valley. I was in search of a lunch spot where the locals went. There seemed to be several cutesy tea shoppes and many mildly elegant places but I wanted someplace away from the crowd.
As many of you know my favorite travel activity is people watching and I didn't have to go far to find it. The sign outside said 'CAFE/BOOKSTORE'. Yummy! Food and books, two of my favorite things. Full disclosure: I am a 'bookaholic' so putting me in close proximity to a bookstore is akin to setting an alcoholic free at the Jack Daniels distillery. This place was completely tourist free and mostly filled with young moms, some grannies, and lots of kids. It was the last day of school vacation and this place also housed the only indoor kiddie playground- think mini Chuck E. Cheese. The main dining room, mostly rough hewn wooden tables and chairs on a pine floor, had about 15 people all talking back and forth. The play room was shut off with a glass partition so they could see their kids jumping in the ball pits (germ factories according to my son- in -law), bouncing in the bouncy houses, and climbing some sort of enclosed metal framework. It all looked pretty familiar.
When I entered I saw one young man behind the counter- the 'barista'. He took food orders, called them in on a phone somewhere and minutes later the food was delivered to your table. He was fascinating to watch as he was intent on two things: doing his job and trying to look as 'cool' as possible. I think he achieved his goal on both points. He was tall and stovepipe slim. His height was extended by his dyed black gel spiked hair do. He had several modest facial piercing (but probably quite daring for his little town), and he was dressed all in black. Black shirt buttoned to the neck with a tiny black tie, tight black skinny jeans, low black boots. Oh, he was trying so hard to be cool. But, he was too sweet to pull it off completely. When I asked him a question about the location of the WC, he would smile and answer politely. When I asked where the bookstore was he offered to take me up the stairs to show me the exact location. I assured him I could find it.
Oh, the bookstore! I thought of my friend, Nancy Dole, who has a sweet used books and ephemera shop in Shelburne Falls, MA and how she loves her books. The space went on and on, row after row, up some stairs, down others, around corners, it was endless. It was neat and clean and all labeled. I could have spent a week there. But, alas, I only had 15 minutes and no room in my suitcase for heavy books. I had to buy something just to help out the 'barista'. I found an English/ Welsh dictionary and bought it for our guide, Wendy. Just before we had pulled into town she announced that when she retired she wanted to learn Welsh. Perfect!
Late in the afternoon we pulled into our hotel, The Celtic Royal in Caernarfon, a hodge podge of buildings that had been patched and put together to make a huge hotel and 'spa'- where townspeople come to use the pool and exercise equipment. My room was fit for a queen. I had a canopied bed with flowing drapes on each corner, a multitude of car door size pillows and a bathtub that really needed a little step stool to enter. The view, not so good, as I overlooked the parking lot but in the distance I could see the towers of the castle.
Two great things happened in this town. The first night we had our' home hosted' dinner. This is a standard on most Grand Circle and OAT trips. Most have been wonderful while some have been not so great. We were divided into groups and put in taxis. There were 6 in my group. We rode for about 15 minutes into the countryside and then came to a stop. A lovely couple in their 50's welcomed us into their home. Entering the kitchen was a bit of a shock as the biggest dog crate I'd ever seen was sitting in a corner. Oh, Lordy, I thought, I hope whatever it is, is friendly. We went right into the dining room and had a delicious dinner. She is an artist and he is a retired civil servant. His hobby is birds. Not canaries or parakeets but swans, geese, ducks, and the like. He has built a medium size pond in their back yard, surrounded it with metal fencing angled so the birds can't fly away (he does clip a wing), some small nesting houses, and another shed where he stores their feed. It is a grand undertaking and a full time hobby. As we all know ducks and geese are dirty and he does spend a lot of time picking up ducky doo. Whatever floats your boat..... As for the crate it turned out to be their enormous long haired German Shepard who was very excitable and not fit to be in the same room as so many strangers
She, on the other hand, is an accomplished artist- acrylics, oils, watercolor, and wool. Yes, wool. She gets different colors of wool and manipulates them into a picture. The finished project is lovely. The evening was fantastic and we all hated to have to go back to the hotel.
The next day we rode the Ffestiniog Railway. It is on a 2 foot gauge and was opened in 1836 to carry slate from the mountains to the sea by gravity with horses pulling the empty wagons back up to the quarry. Steam power replaced the horses in 1863. It was like riding the ' Little Engine that Could' as we went on a 17 mile journey, most of it up hill. It was another sunny day and the ride was lovely past sheep, streams, waterfalls, more sheep, quaint cottages, mountains and lakes.
We then drove to Portmeirion which was built by the architect Clough Williams- Ellis. He wanted to show how a beautiful site could be developed without spoiling it. He bought the 70 acre site in 1925 and spent 50 years building the place. It is on a private peninsula overlooking the Traeth Bach tidal estuary. The buildings are a mixture of real and fanciful architecture. Some are used as holiday cottages. There is a hotel there as well where we ate a lovely lunch. I hope you can see some of the buildings via this website.
www.portmeirion-village.com
Back at the hotel, Wendy had a treat for us. It seems there is a long history of Welsh male choruses going back to the days when they worked in the coal and slate mines. The tradition continues today and we were invited to sit in on a rehearsal of the Caernarfon Male voice choir in the local community center which was about a five minute walk from our hotel. We arrived as the men were arriving. Everyone quickly took a seat and the young woman who directs the chorus got right down to business. I was most interested to watch and listen as my brother, Don, has directed Barbershops choruses for over 25 years and I've been to many of their rehearsals and shows. Jumping junebugs!!! From the first note I was floored! These guys, about 50, ages 25 - 70+ rocked the roof right off the place. They sang in Welsh and in English everything from old airs to songs from Les Miz. They even did 'Dixie' and 'When the Saints go Marching In'. It truly was a highlight of the entire trip for me. You can try going onto their website to see or hear them:
www.cormeibioncaernarfon.org
I would go back to Wales in a minute. What a well kept secret!
Carolyn/Gunga
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Jill
non-member comment
Life, it's unpredictable
Hi, Carolyn, I've loved reading your posts...as often, I feel like I'm travelling by your side. Can't wait to see you at our place on the 17th! Unfortunately, I did not get to Dublin and Cork. Barry's mom passed on May 1st, and the associated arrangements and services played out through the 7th. The trip was from May 3-10. Maybe another time. See you in 6 days!