That’s one reason I ended up in Wales for 3 months~ The Schengen coalition of European countries protects them from people like me. After living in Europe for 90 days, by law you have to stay out of it for 90 days. My “hiatus” countries were Wales and (later) Morocco.
Wales is just such beautiful country—pretty much everywhere. I have strong memories of the paths, so classic. And, I guess also across the UK—but for sure in Wales—walking paths are everywhere, with signs, right across people’s property—it’s a thing. (If anyone else wants to work on a movement to get that going here, I’m in!) The one down to the river (and the pub!:) started at the top of my street and then wound down the long steep hill, past small fields with sheep. Everything is green, lush, moist, bracing! with mottled cloud shadows. . .
The people I got to know—lived with, for those months—were among the friendliest, most inclusive, most generous I’ve ever met. Also hilariously, ferociously witty! I made several friends for life: my hostess Tina is of Greek heritage—from Cardiff but her parents Corfu natives. We were in Craig Cefn Park—which I picked for its nearby river (the Clydach). The house was near the peak of the hill up one long canyonside—a rural /residential area outside Swansea, a mile+ out Clydach Rd. from Clydach village:)
Note: Wales is not that easy to get out to, like from London, even with a car (though we from CA are used to distances). Btw my journey there from Sao Jacinto in Portugal was: (neighbor’s) car to ferry, ferry to bus, bus to Aveiro, bus from Aveiro to Porto airport (walk to/from hotel for a night there), flight to London, & (many hours) bus out to Swansea, where my hosts kindly picked me up. . . it was the evening before Easter.
Though invited, I didn’t want to crash their family holiday, so I blazed my trail down to the pub and had an awful Easter Sunday dinner . . . but within a few days, I had found my crew at that pub—folks who would never let me sit alone again. Sepi & Kerry sort of held court, while Gethin made sly subtle remarks. Geth invited me to Sunday dinner the next day with his folks, and Kerry offered to lend a work car he rarely used—a gigantic Tuareg—for my whole time there. Gethin, a 50-ish former Swansea Rugby hero, became my regular companion, taking me under his wing, he & his folks—off to castles, to lunch/dinner, to the Mumbles (a charming peninsula out from Swansea)—all around the area, and beyond.
The roads are barely wider than the paths—and yes I did drive, and it was terribly scary a lot—but can be done. On the teeny roads, everybody knows you have to wait for each other. And with my giant car (only a few minor scrapes, but still 3 hefty body shop bills!) I went twice out to western Pembrokeshire, to St. David’s and Fishguard (where I met another lovely family and visited them); north to Snowdonia (Bangor) for four nights in a semi-rural yurt~ And some UK trips: Devon (Dartmoor!), London (visited my cousin!:), Bath, which was magical.
Museums. . . And Oh did I love the castles!! The history!! Wales has more castle ruins per area than anywhere else in the world!~
Most of the folks I knew there were born and raised in Clydach (or pretty near). Unlike in other countries (France, Greece), villages in Wales remain lively, vital, central. I actually believe this is because of the pub culture! (I think Clydach has 5 or 6.) Different folks frequent different pubs, so people move to & from social groups that way. Of course it’s about drinking & eating—but also so much more. People gathering. Connecting.
The Welsh are just extraordinary people. Many are native Welsh speakers—all signs are in both languages by law. Speaking of pubs, one funny story I read described (& this literally happened to me) how a Welshman will drink you under the table—and then call and pay for your cab home. In truth they may be impenetrable; under the surface they are extremely private, and you rarely really know what they think or feel. I was very happy there.
I did my concert in the pub of course! The New Inn~ So it was more like a regular gig; and happily I was well paid too. It was for several hours, so that stretched my backing tracks! But my people as well as many regulars there really did seem to enjoy. One friend-of-friends, Jimmy, with typical black humor, was skeptical (even a little sneery) when I was to perform. But as it turned out, I had him at [Patsy Cline’s] Crazy.
As you might imagine, I have plotted how to get back there. We’ll see.
