Living the Journey: Tales from Wales

This is the 5th installment on our 8-month trip, following:

We said goodbye to England and headed to Wales. Finding seats on the train, I was reminded what a good move we made taking only carry-ons for our 8-month trip. Although I was getting a little bored with my clothes, I liked the lightness and ease. Fewer decisions to make.

At the train station: all my luggage for 8 months
(including a small pack on my back)

It was comforting to sit back and watch the world glide by. We rode through the Wye Valley, the place of Dave's ancestors.

We spent two nights in the capital of Cardiff. My first impression of the city was bad. I didn't feel safe with seemingly drugged-out people shouting at each other on the streets at dusk.

Cardiff Castle

Old and new Cardiff

The next morning, the vibe had shifted with people eating in cafes and strolling in the fresh air. I noticed a lot of pride flags and a rainbow crosswalk. Under a blue sky, we walked to the nearby 2000-year-old castle and climbed up stone steps and through narrow passageways. In the basement we saw the eerie remnants of a bomb shelter used during WWII.

WWII era canteen

The vast grounds include an adjoining elegant house built in the late 1800s by a Marquess. Of course my favorite room was the library. I wanted to drop into a plush chair and read (and smell!) all the classics shelved in the antique bookcases.

library

The next day I took a solo walk to the waterfront and ate lunch overlooking Cardiff Bay. In the bus on my return, a guy in rumpled clothes sat next to me and complained about how the new liberal government wants to take away his right to smoke outdoors. When he asked where I was from, he segued into something many people want to talk about here: American politics. Most everyone we've spoken to abroad is confounded and appalled by Trump. This guy, though, took a strange tack: He asked me if Trump is Jewish. I asked him where he got that idea, and he said he didn't know.

...by fax from Portugal

I said that Kamala Harris' husband is Jewish, and that I loved the idea of having such a multicultural first family. He asked if I thought the US was ready for a woman president and I said I hope so, given that the UK, Germany, Pakistan, Mexico and many other countries have had women heads of state.

"As an American, you must see us as rather primitive," he said, an odd segue given that I had just pointed out that the UK was more progressive when it came to women politicians. I asked him why he thought that, and he said that in the U.S. everything is big: the roads, the houses, the food. True, I said, but I see the States as more primitive because we have mass shootings and no universal health care.

I'll be glad when the election is over, and I'm praying voters eschew authoritarianism and choose women's autonomy, racial equality, LGBTQ rights, and democracy.

Doggie snuggles

After two nights in Cardiff, we were off to a three-week housesit in Solva, a little seaside village. It turned out to be similar to our sit in coastal England: wonderful in many ways, with a few challenges.

The house was light-filled and spacious. Built in 1890 and since remodeled, it was perched on a cliff with a view of St. Bride's Bay. The Staffordshire bull terriers, Lily and Bonnie, gave us love immediately. Two year-old sisters, they reminded me of smaller versions of the Vizslas we cared for in England, strong and muscly beasts who loved snuggling on our laps.

Our host took us and the dogs on a walk to nearby open space where the Pembrokeshire Coast Path, at 186 miles long, stretches out in both directions. The dogs tugged mightily on leashes attached to their harnesses. I worried I'd be toppled over or tweak my back. Harnesses can signal all breeds to pull like sled dogs. Once the dogs were off-leash and romping around in the field, I asked our host if she'd ever tried gentle leaders, or halties, which encircle the snout. She ordered them online when we returned home and said she was grateful that we'd try to train the dogs on them.

Dogs running off-leash.

That night, she taught us a board game called Cascadia that we enjoyed so much we ended up playing it almost every night, adding it to our Yahtzee and card games.

When the owners left, I familiarized the dogs with the halties by covering them in treats on their favorite couch. Over the course of a few hours, I playfully put their snouts in and out of them.

The first time we took the sisters out with the halties, they resisted, shaking their heads and trying to paw them off. Bonnie stubbornly wouldn't move. But after treats and coaxing, they began to understand that if they heeled, we'd easily proceed, but if they tried to pull, the haltie clamped down.

On the second walk, they were more relaxed. By the third, they were perfect.

The owners had also told us the dogs "might" have accidents sometimes at night. Our first morning there was poo and pee in the living room. No bueno.

With the owners' approval, we borrowed a large crate from a neighbor, and with treats and blankies, they curled up inside with no complaint. They slept through the night, and the next morning they rushed out to take care of business in the backyard.

It was a reminder that dogs want direction and security. And they want to please us. We just need to teach them how. (There's got to be a parallel in politics here somehow...)

Now that our Dog Whisperer portion of the sit was over, we explored the peninsula. The owners let us use their car (and even paid for the extra insurance coverage). Dave braved the narrow roads, expertly driving an unfamiliar car in the left lane. We took hikes with the dogs to St. David's head, overlooking a boundless sweep of ocean. We went to the Blue Lagoon at Aberiddy, an old slate quarry with lucious turquoise water. I was tempted to join the few swimmers, but the cold wind blew away that impulse.

with Lily and Bonnie at the Blue Lagoon

We checked out an old brick factory and harbor, where at a picnic beach we ate the best fish n chips I've ever had. We also made it out to St. Non cliffs, the site where Saint Non gave birth to Saint David 1500 years ago. St Non's well on this property is believed to have miraculous healing powers, but the water's grimy appearance made me think it might cause more problems than it would cure.

Primo fish n chips

On the property is a retreat center. We met Dominic, the caretaker, who gave us a tour and told us about the center's history. Dominic said St. Non's is a place of pilgrimage and contemplation that offers hospitality to all. In the Celtic tradition, it's a place where "the streams meet." A place of quiet, hope, and healing.

with Dominic

One evening, in the nearby town of St. David's, we joined some neighbors for a performance by the South Wales Male Choir at the 6th-century Anglican cathedral. Because St. David's is Britain's smallest city, I wasn't expecting such an immense and distinguished building.

St. David's cathedral

The men's choir, comprised of dignified silver-haired men in red jackets, had been singing together for nearly 40 years in Welsh and English. Before "You'll Never Walk Alone," one member talked about how they performed it for the Americans right after 9-11. I was glad I'd brought tissues to wipe at my tears.

I thought about how throughout the UK, we'd seen many statues honoring those who fought fascists. And how my parents would have been appalled at the American presidential candidate who spouts division and hate. They would have loved as much as I did the poignant unity of this performance, capped off by the choir and the audience standing to sing the Welsh National Anthem.