Why I Love Train Travel in Britain

After leaving my adapter in Llandriddod I finally was able to pick another one up in Llandudno so I'm able to blog once more. As you may have noticed, there are lots of place names beginning with "Llan" in Wales. Originally Llan meant an enclosure and later was used as to indicate a parish church so Llangollen is the church of Saint Colleen, Llandudno the church of Saint Dudno, whoever he was, etc.

But enough about Llans. For my first post back I just wanted to take a moment to sing the praises of my Britrail Pass. Purchased in the US for a mere $400 and some odd dollars, it has given me unlimited train travel for 8 days in a one month period-- allegedly. The thing is, if you look at my pass, it looks like I've only traveled three days because most of the conductors haven't bothered to date it. So thus far here is where I've been on said pass:

• London Heathrow area (took a bus to a station) to Chester
• Hawarden to Edinburgh
• Edinburgh to Abergavenny

Abergavenny to Fishguard
Fishguard to Llandriddod
Llandriddod to Hawarden
Hawarden to Llandudno
Llandudno to Chester (I missed the train to Hawarden on my return today-- don't ask)

Wednesday will be Hawarden to Winchester and then Thursday, unless Daniel and Eddie pick me up, Winchester to Petersfield. So, more than 8 days of travel and much more than $400 worth of train travel (over 400 pounds in fact-- I just added it up).

Train travel in Wales appears to serve two purposes in addition to being used as an actual mode of transportation-- for families, it's a mobile picnic without having to worry about weather, insects or where to find a loo. Mothers seem to pack sandwiches for any train trip, no matter how long. (Another tangent here - yet another reason to love the UK is their love of sandwiches. I love being able to get an egg and cress or tuna and cucumber sandwich anywhere at any time and not have people look at me like I'm weird. And the plethora of reasonably tidy public bathrooms are also wonderful but I guess that's needed in a tea and beer drinking country . . . but more to come on that.) Once you've outgrown picnicking with the parents on the train, it appears to transform into a form of cruising for teenagers that doesn't require a drivers license. Groups of teens board the train at one Llansomething and disembark several stops later at another Llanortheother with no apparent purpose. And then, when you're old, it's back to the picnic again but this time you only have to pack a sandwich for yourself.

Traveling by train across most of Wales (I've only mentioned my beginning and ending stops, not all the in-between destinations stations I've either passed by or had to change at-- Shrewsbury, Wrexham, Shotton, Milton Keynes, Warren Bank Quay, Crewe, Cardiff . . .just to name a few) I've managed to see a good bit of the countryside, from the hills of middle Wales to the southern and northern coasts. If you can go there by train in Wales, chances are I've been there or at least close to it.

When I left Fishguard on Friday I was hoping to be able to take the train through the southern part of the midlands but unfortunately the train schedule is synched with the ferry schedule that goes back and forth to Ireland (I was tempted but resisted) so in addition to St. David's not working out (the bus schedules are apparently not linked to the train or ferry schedules as they stop running for about 90 minutes mid-day) neither did my plan to travel on the mid-Wales line the entire way north. But that's ok because the bit I did see was gorgeous. And Llandriddod was well worth the stop. It's a cute little Victorian spa town with old hotels framing the town square which contains a small garden, a smaller bandstand, and a grassy area where some standing stones -- either a Victorian folly or a rediscovery of ancient artifacts-- once stood. My hotel was an arts and crafts building that was originally built as the rectory for the church next door-- a rectory that could sleep 200 people! I never did read why they thought they needed a space that large-- must have been a popular priest.

After I checked in I wandered around town which took all of 7 minutes (later I did discover there was a lake a bit outside of the main part of town but I was pretty knackered at that point and didn't have time to check it out the next morning). I stopped in at an Indian restaurant and had dinner and then took a nice bubble bath and enjoyed some bad British television before retiring for the night. I can't figure out when all the good Britcoms I watch at home, thanks to a combination of BBC America and my brother, are on here. So far all I've found is Emmerdale and some news programs, neither of which really interests me.

Saturday morning there was time for another circle around town and a poke in some of the shops before I had to walk the two blocks to the train station and head back to Hawarden. It was so nice to come back here but a bit strange with all the familiar faces gone. Even two of the volunteers who were here when I was attending the course had departed although Donald is still here so it was nice to be greeted by a friendly face.

Sunday was a rainy day so I scrapped my plans to head into Chester as it was the perfect day for being in the library. I camped out at one of the desks on the gallery level.. The main part of the library is two stories with the gallery running along the top. The book cases in the entire room run floor to ceiling, including along the narrow walkways from one long side of the gallery to the other. Woe to anyone, like say a visiting American, who needs a book on say, Welsh spirituality and poetry, from the very top shelf of the middle of the row of bookshelves on that narrow part of the gallery. Yes, there are ladders to help you reach books that are up high on the shelves, and yes there is a railing around the gallery-- about 2 feet high with warnings not to lean on it because it's rickety. But somehow the two don't seem like they should mix. I braved it, however, turning the ladder sideways (figuring if I fell it would likely be backwards and then I'd just land in the aisle rather than over the side-- and, as I told a dinner companion last night-- if I fell over the side at least it would have been an exciting way to go-- not everyone could say they died reaching for a book by Oliver Davies in Gladstones Library in Hawarden, Wales, in fact I suspect no one can stake that claim to fame, fortunately including myself.) As it turned out, I actually only had to go up a step or two in order to reach the book I needed. I was quite proud of myself when I finished but unfortunately no one was in the library to witness my feat of daring and courage. It won't be repeated though-- everyone will just have to take my word that I did it.

I managed to get all the reading I wanted to do for my poetry paper done on Sunday so I was feeling very pleased with myself. I even had time to poke around in the bookshelves a bit. Think of 33,000 books at your disposal-- and books that you'd likely not come across in your local library. When I was looking for a couple books by Welsh poets I turned around an in the English Victorian literature section noticed a gazillion books by a woman called "Mrs. Humphry Ward." They had wonderful titles such as, "The Testing of Diana Mallory," "The War and Elizabeth," "Daphne," and "The Mating of Lydia." Intrigued, I noticed a biography of Mrs. Humphry Ward in the same section and pulled it out to look through it (it will be my bedtime reading tonight). Evidently she was the niece of English poet Matthew Arnold and wrote quite a few novels in the Victorian and Edwardian eras. I'm hoping I can find her books in the library at home.

Today I woke up to a beautiful sunny morning so I rewarded myself for my good behaviour and productivity yesterday with a trip to the seaside, Llandudno to be exact. Yet another Victorian town on the Welsh coast, Llandudno has hotels, shops, tea rooms, a promenade along the sea lined with palm trees and flowers, and a big pier that extends out into the ocean and houses tacky souvenir shops (although not as proliferous or tacky as in say Ocean City), arcades, rides for kiddies, and various booths selling edible treats. At the end of the pier is a lower level fishing pier where, as in the US, the men were all out fishing but not actually catching anything. I had fish and chips and mush peas sitting at the end of the pier in the sun and then treated myself to an ice cream cone, with the intention of walking back to the beach and hopefully catching a performance of Punch and Judy while eating my ice cream. Alas, neither was to be because I missed the noon show and the next performance wasn't until 2pm and even if it had been earlier, a very cheeky sea gull swept down and took the upper 3/4 of my ice cream right out of my hand. He grabbed it from the ice cream part as well (there was still a lot left) which was even more brazen of him. If I weren't so impressed with his chutzpah, I would have been more upset because it was really good strawberry ice cream. But it did provide amusement for the elderly people and the gaggle of teen aged boys sitting on the promenade who witnessed the tragedy. I thought about getting myself more ice cream later but resisted the temptation.

Now back to the loo issue. While I loved Llandudno as it enabled me to live the British childhood I'd always imagined but never had (I did forgo the pony ride on the beach and playing in the sand although I'm sure I could have if I really wanted to), one thing that really impressed me about the pier was the bathroom. If you've been to Rehoboth or Ocean City or any other seaside town in America and have had the misfortune of having to use the public restroom, you know it can be an experience that takes you a while to recover from. Imagine, if you will, a public restroom that is not only immaculately clean but also has tile decorated with cute Victorian bouquets of roses and stained glass windows running along the upper part of the wall just below the ceiling. That alone, makes the trip to Llandudno worth it. (I guess I need a guy to visit Llandudno and let me know if the same holds true for the men's room.)

On that note, I think it's time to turn in and learn more about Mrs. Humphry Ward. Good night!