On Tuesday, we didn't make any real plans other than to drive north into Wales. Before we left the south of England, though, I decided that it would be pretty cool to find the house that I first lived in...
We texted my mom who remembered that it was called Torlands and was in a village called Yelverton. She didn't remember street names, but thanks to our trust GPS, we found Yelverton and asked at a small real estate office if anyone knew of the house. At first, we got very puzzled looks, but at last, one of the realtors said they thought it was on "that street over there past the petrol station."
Within a few minutes of driving around in circles, we arrived. So...when I was brought "home" from the hospital, this was "home."
This house was very large, and I still need to ask my mom if it was multiple units or if they were living like royalty on the USMC's dime. The yard was huge, the trees were covered in moss, and the neighborhood looked way out of my price range. It was kind of a special feeling to see this place, and I am grateful that Randy encouraged me to follow up on this whim.
After the pilgrimage to Plymouth (that sounds sort of backwards, doesn't it?) we drove north through more narrow narrow streets with tall hedgerows on either side. Here is an example of the superhighways of the English countryside:
(Note the Cadbury's on the dash)
Entering Wales over the bridge to Chepstow
(€7.00 toll. Get your wallets out!)
Our first stop in Wales was Tintern Abbey. It was as gorgeous as we had heard and we got there as the sun was beginning to set. We took about a million pictures, but here are just a few:
While we were walking around, we met this Welsh couple, who had recently bought a membership to Cadw (say it Cad-oo), an organization that helps to keep all these historic national sites maintained, and thought they'd come check out their investment. Cadw literally means "to keep." Anyway, they were chatty and friendly and it was our first interaction with actual Welsh people with Welsh accents in Wales (who weren't taking our toll money).
Also, they knew who the Alarm was! Everyone in Wales does. That is so cool. Anyway, we got them to snap a picture of us:
Lastly, here's another nice shot of the Abbey ruins.
The tourist information center was closed by the time the sun had set on Tintern so we weren't sure if there was a good place to stay in Chepstow and we figured we may as well keep driving. We drove on and on and on toward the north of Wales, and finally decided to stop in a little village whose name I cannot remember. We were hungry and tired, and had waited too long to make any kind of plan.
We wandered into a pub that had a sign advertising rooms for rent upstairs. When we asked if they had a double, they said they only had a twin room, but referred us to a B&B nearby. I called to see if they had rooms, and they informed us there was no room at the inn.
At this point, I was ready to take the twin, but just as I walked back up to the bar to say we wanted it, they sold it to a couple backpacker looking guys. Still, I cannot complain. The folks at the pub (including the customers) began trying to find us a room. The lady who told me she couldn't put us up at the B&B received a call on her personal cell phone from a guy at the bar, and he made one more call for us after that. Alas, the town was full!
Onward we drove on narrow roads with tall hedges, round the roundabouts, and finally to Bronwye B&B in Builth Wells. Randy negotiated a good price on a room that had a picture window looking onto a field of rugby players.
Around the corner, we had dinner (finally!) in the pub at the Greyhound Inn where Randy vowed to send a Denver glass if they would only let him keep the pint glass with the Welsh red dragon on it. The deal was made (but the postage on the trade glass he sent was over $10 so we're not sure how good a deal he made).
We slept very well that night at Bronwye and we covered a decent amount of ground.
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