Sometimes the best way to see a country is as a tourist. This sounds like a proverb from a book of the bleeding obvious, but it’s absolutely true. Over the last few years I have dragged my husband around more of Britain than he has travelled almost in his life. And I think it’s becuse I’m a tourist, a permatourist with a constant case of wanderlust. It might also be because I have a serious problem with sitting still. That’s another story all together.
This is definitely an amazing cure for Donkey-on-the-edge-syndrome.
Living in another country gives you a different viewpoint. It spurs you on to explore parts of the world that might not normally be of interest, and sadly Wales sadly seems to be one of those places. Viewed as a wild and woolly corner of the British Isles, it’s underrated in my foreign opinion.
We decided to nip over to wales on the train, as it’s only 2.5 hours on the train from central London. We spent a day wandering around Cardiff, a cute little compact city (fyi: IT’S EVEN GOT A CASTLE). We found a Kiwi pub (much to our amazement), skirted the Millenium Stadium, and settled in for bite to eat.
I even made a teeny tiny welsh friend – to give you an idea of scale; that’s the knuckle of my index finger.
The next morning we made for was the gem in Wales’ southern diadem – we were bound for the Gower coast.
Beaches with beautiful yellow sand, a ready supply of fresh Welsh cakes, fascinating salt marshes, delicious handraised sheep, ancient stone burial mounds, nerve inducing walks along cliffs and enough prehistoric ferns to make you homesick.
There seems to be a magic for me in Wales – may be it’s the rolling hills reminding me of home, the lovely beaches, the small towns or the rolling lilts of the Welsh Accent. (That and the rich rugby heritage; since the above trip we’ve also made a day trip to see the All Blacks play the mighty Welsh dragons.)
It’s not the plethora of Sheep either, I swear…
Granted, it’s most spectacular on a sunny day, but where isnt?
Da wales is lush. Fact.