Weekend in Wales

FOR THOSE WHO DO NOT WANT TO READ ALL OF THIS OR HAVE A SHORT ATTENTION SPAN A SUMMARY IS GIVEN AT THE BOTTOM

I stepped onto the platform into strong gusts of wind and rain; I peered around only to find a nondescript “Iceland” grocery store. Skepticism and fear for the weekend took hold. This was not an ideal beginning. I already doubted the amount of fun I would experience from a weekend in northern Wales.

The Turning Point: But while walking along we saw the symbol of our future holiday in the far distance: a gorgeous castle.

Our prospects continued to rise as we caught our last train to our final destination: Llendudno. Llendudno’s a charming little town on the coast of the Irish Sea. The man who owned the hostel was named James and he is the biggest dork I have ever encountered. When writing something down he began to laugh and a string of saliva dripped onto the table (YES, he drooled Andrew Gamblin style).
We ate dinner at the local pub called the King’s Head. The pub welcomed us with a fire and eclectic decorations of antique china and beer bottles. The locals stared at us in amusement and our servers were friendly and did not cringe when we ordered waters.

On our way to the pub we spotted a concert at the church around the corner. The choir turned out is a local male choir full of hilarious Welsh men. They sang a variety of songs: American Civil war tunes, classical pieces and traditional Welsh lullabies. They were extremely witty and adorable, we quickly staked claims on surrogate grandfathers. During intermission we chatted and made friends with the lively locals.

The following morning beautifully unfolded in sunshine and we began our adventure by busing out to Snowdonia. (Thanks to Rick Steve we purchased a pass for cheap travel. We love you Rick!) When we told our bus driver we intended to climb the tallest mountain in the UK. He looked at us and then our footwear; he quickly encouraged us to skip the hike. (We later found out that mount Snowdon was the training ground for Sir Edmund Hillary in preparing for Everest.) We ended up continuing to using the buses to explore the national park and different tiny villages. By the end of the day we traveled through about half of northern Wales.

The next day we walked around our adorable home base and went up an old tram to see a spectacular view. At the beginning we were bitterly cold with a sharp wind blowing through the tram. At the top, I experienced the strongest winds ever (worse than Saqqara in Egypt!) Later that day we went to a medieval town still enclosed by walls built during the twelfth century. We trekked home in a downpour and unwound in our warm hostel watching the British version of Dancing with the Stars with hilarious old Welsh and English men.

Summary: I never expected to love Wales but by the end of the trip I was enchanted. I was won over with melodious voices, beautiful mountains and the charming and friendly manners of the Welsh people. I stormed medieval castles and walked on the forbidding hills and mountains of the wild countryside. I’m proud to be Welsh.