The Welsh Are from Wales

And they have a killer coast. It's all rocks on the beach of Aberystwyth , but at least they're round and smooth and fun to throw. As for the town itself, it boasts a small population of 10,000, which nearly doubles to 18,000 when the University of Aberystwyth is in session. The life in a small town is rather quiet, especially when you step into a corner pub and find only the bartender and three older gents jawing and laughing at one man's anecdotes about his wife drinking a bottle of port each night before they retire to bed. I found it to be something out of a storybook, and my storybook became one of old assumptions come true when a few men and a woman came in for some whisky's and were all missing nearly all half of their teeth.

On the day I arrived, I hadn't slept save a few hours of stolen and frequently interrupted REM cycles on the train over. Even so, I got off the train and found that where there were no hills, there was the coast, and where there was the coast, there was my hotel. I walked through the town square and past plenty of little shops to the coast where the morning rain was just letting up and the waves were splashing gently against the rocks and the cliffs that guarded the town's northern and southern borders. I found the Gwest'y Marine Hotel and checked in. The lady on the phone was speaking Welsh, and though the language itself was written alongside the English version on every sign in town, I only heard it a couple more times. Apparently only 160,000 still speak it, and that number is dropping. Very similar to the Gaelic language, where only 80,000 still speak that (if I remember correctly) within it's old realm of the Scottish and Irish countrysides. I dropped a few things off in my room and headed of for some food and to explore. I walked along the "Promenade" which is the mile and a half coastline and one of the main attractions of Aberystwyth. It lead me to the old castle that now only has bits and pieces of its former glory, dashed to rubble from over 900 years of the sea and her fury and storms. I decided to go back to town before I explored the castle, which really did turn out to be a small exploration of a few old towers, some gravestones, and remnants of several staircases, and had a pint and some fish pie. Not bad at all, only I had the smell of fish from the sea to keep the taste of the pie in my mouth for the rest of the day.

I went to the castle and the sun was going to set in a few hours, so I decided to find a hill to watch in on. To the direct south, there was a rather massive climb that I didn't think I wanted to try, but a smaller hill to the east a bit that I might try. Well, wouldn't you know it, I got to the east hill after going through the marine part of the town, and realized that the southern hill would be blocking my view. So I found my way to the coast again (after much toil and going this way and that) and walked up the hill. I didn't want to miss any of the sunset, and it had taken me about an hour and a half to get to the hillside, so I tried to jog up it. Good luck. I stopped every few steps because I'm a pansy and I'm out of shape, but finally I reached the top and the wind was blowing so hard that I could do the whole lean-out-over-the-edge-with-arms-outstretched-and-let-the-wind-hold-me-up deal. Don't worry, it wasn't a cliff or anything and I wasn't going to tumble to the sea and certain death, although I would have had a fun roll trying to stop myself if I had fallen. The sun began to set and here was my view:



Yeah. I was reminded more this trip, probably because of my solitude, about how great God's creation really is. And again, I was inspired to travel more and more, to see as much as I can before I die. Strangely enough, the Disney song "Circle of Life" came on as I was heading to the hill, and the words "more to see than can ever be seen, more to do than can ever be done..." hit me smack in the face. There is more than can ever be seen, but I intend to see as much as I can.

I headed down the hill because the wind was picking up and I wanted a brew. I wanted a nap first, and the nap turned into an all-night sleep-a-thon, and I woke up for breakfast the next morning. I love the English breakfasts, but this was came with the room fee and was a buffet, so I was stoked. Sausages, bacon, eggs, hash browns, mushrooms, tomatoes, beans, yogurt, tea and orange juice was a nice way to start a day that ended up full of food. I checked out of my room and headed out, my feet killing me because of the width, or lack thereof, of my shoes. I wanted to find The Devil's Bridge and the surrounding waterfalls, but that was too far of a walk, plus I didn't know how to get there. So, you remember the eastern hill that I wanted to go on? Well, it turns out that it's a nature reserve and there's a footpath that leads all the way around it and all the way to the top, where there is a monument. Not a big one, per se, but one nonetheless. So I bought a loaf of brown bread, a couple apples, an orange and what was called a custard slide - which was custard in between wafered shortbread with icing... mmmmmmmm!!! - and headed up. The rain started, but at least it wasn't too cold, and I made it to the top to enjoy my little meal. I wasn't really hungry by the time I got up there because it only took me about an hour to scale the smallish hill, but I ate anyway and enjoyed the view. A rainy day by the ocean isn't like a rainy day in the country or in the city. It's perfectly appealing and not in any way an inconvenience, unless you're trying to stay dry, that is. I didn't really care, so I walked about halfway around the hill admiring all of central Wales' hills and valleys, and of course, sheep. It was a nice walk, and although my feet made it feel like it was a few hours time, only another hour or so had passed and I had at least five left before my train was due to head out. So I headed down to town to find a pub, journal some thoughts and read. I found the pub, had a couple of Guinness while I wrote and read, then headed across the street to the train station. I still had three hours, at least. So I went to the connected pub and had another pint, my first Abbot Ale, which is popular here and I can see why. I was very impressed! I started dozing at my table while reading my book, The Brothers Karamozov, and I know the people that were eating near me were watching and snickering as my head bobbed up and down. I let another half hour go by, then got up to get a coffee and a treacle sponge. A Treacle Sponge is basically a piece of naked, rich fluffy cake and it's served in small pool of hot custard. Absolutely amazing piece of dessert, and I've enjoyed it twice immensely now. Actually, the first time I had it, I had it while waiting for my bus to Scotland, so I guess this Treacle treat could be considered my "waiting food."



I finally left the pub and went to wait outside the station for my train. A boring train ride and a Whopper Meal from the Burger King in Birmingham New Street Station later, I'm home, giving you my last two days. I hope you enjoyed them as much as my sore feet and I did. I hope your feet aren't sore, and check out the pictures . I'm sorry there's so many coastlines and rocks and such, but I didn't want to weed all of the bad ones out. The ones of the sun on the sea are the best, and a few of the castle pictures are cool too. Cheers!