Last Days in Aberdyfi

Hello everyone! I finally feel I can sit down and write a proper post. To be honest, it has been during this last stretch that it has been hardest to write, partly to do with the fact that nothing truly blogworthy has happened, but also because, for some reason, this particular place - being the closest to the lifestyle of medieval Wales I can think of - sends my mind into a dreamy haze. For instance, I see my laptop on the table and think "Laptop? What's a laptop?" Well...its not quite THAT bad, but you know what I mean. Anyway, since I can't very well sum up a week as that would take up a good ten pages, I'll once again summarize the important happenings as best I can.

As I've said, I am still in Aberdyfi, the final town in my line of journeys, relaxing with my dad and grandma. Since going on the Talyllyn Railway, we have done a few things of interest. One day, we went to see my "aunt" Rose and her daughter Elaine at their nearby cottage on what my dad calls "millionaire's lane" because of the recent increase in value of the properties. I place the word "aunt" in quotations because she is actually my grandma's oldest friend and of no relation whatsoever. Even so, she has been like an aunt to my dad and his siblings, so we call her "aunt" to indicate affection, and of course, just to make life that much simpler. We started the day by getting completely hammered on cheap ice wine and rose, and ended it with tea on the beach and a paddle in the sea. My dad and I only went in up to our knees whereas the rest went in as deep as they could, until we lost sight of their heads bobbing under the waves. As I've emphasized before, I'm not much of a swimmer and would feel just as happy watching the waves as being in them, if not significantly more. (It goes without saying that said bathing suit stayed packed for the entire week.)

The funniest part of the day was the whole concept of "tea on the beach." I found myself thinking, "What other culture in the world would possibly fathom preparing a thermos of hot tea, bringing down not only the basic sugar, milk and cream, but also a tea strainer and stand, and sitting on the beach, all the while trying to keep the sand out of the tea, and shading it from the wind to stop it from cooling too quickly?" I'm sure any other culture would have said "Just bring me a beer/coke/orange juice for god sake and be done with it!" but not the British! But what is really funny is that I probably enjoyed that cup of tea more than anything else someone could have brought me. A Brit through and through I am afraid.

These past few days have been spent with Christine and David who decided on the spur of the moment to join us at the tail end of their trip around Wales. Due to intermittent spells of torrential rain and burning sun, we didn't really have the chance to do much but instead enjoyed reading our books and working on a couple of crosswords together that had been left for a rainy day at the bungalow. Dad and I thankfully did manage to pop out for a pint of Bank's Original Beer at The Britannia Pub, and he told me of how he had been visiting that particular pub ever since (and before!) he was legal to drink. I can see why though - it is a lovely pub and sits directly on the shoreline that looks over the Irish Sea. No matter the weather, the view from the Britannia is always beautiful, and I found myself feeling choked up at a point at the thought of leaving the almost idyllic scene from the balcony - of bobbing boats, crashing waves, and people hobnobbing about as if the rest of the world hardly mattered and only Aberdyfi existed.

As for today, the most exciting event was dads and my trip out to Bearded Lake. It is so called because of the cover of lily pads on the surface of the lake. If you happen to go at the right time, the lake will appear yellow because of the lilies. Unfortunately, they were just starting to bloom for us so the effect wasn't quite there. Another interesting factoid about the lake is that it is located on the top of a mountain, This led us to believe that it is a kettle lake - a lake derived from the melted part of a glacier that had formed a deep gorge in the ground. (Picture dropping a ball in the sand. If the ball (glacier) were removed, it would leave an impression (lake) in the sand (mountain). That is a kettle lake.) Also, when you yell from a certain vantage point, your voice is echoed off the surrounding mountain faces. In short, it is a small lake, but it certainly has much going for it.

And if that didn't interest you enough, just wait until you hear the story about us getting there. I'll put you in the mindset - baking heat, no water, no map, and a long eight-mile walk there and back. Since we had no map, when we reached a fork in the road that had the sign "Bearded Lake" posted on it, we didn't know which way to turn. The first route we tried seemed to lead downhill to the town of Penal. The second was a steep drop into Happy Valley. After a good hour of pacing back and forth, unsure of which route to take, we ended up straying off the path completely, clambering up the mountainside through the miles and miles of overgrown brush and heather. By this time, we were 5 miles into our walk, parched and feeling very tempted to turn on our heal and go back home. However, thanks mostly to my dad's good sense of direction, the top of the mountain showed us the lake and we also saw, to our dismay, that either path would have eventually led us to our destination. But what can you do when you live in a shoe, eh? So, we rushed down the mountainside, with brambles and thorns catching upon our trousers, jumped a sharp barbed wire fence (well, dad jumped and he pulled me over), and stumbled to the lake. I can tell you, a picnic never tasted so good as it did sitting there, looking over the gorgeous scenery and resting our legs. Although we didn't have water, my dad had the forethought to bring a couple of Bank's and in the end, I was glad we saved them for that moment. We were actually contemplating going to Penal and calling grandma from there to pick us up, but for fear of getting lost for the second time that day, we took the safer option of going back the way we came.

So, that is the Cole's book version of my week. You know, I can hardly believe that I only have ten days left in this country. As the saying goes: tempus fugit - time flies. I just wish it wouldn't fly so fast. Being here in Aberdyfi, I feel as if I've been thrown back in time to my childhood days, while Newmarket is my present, and Japan is my future. Three different worlds held together by my existence only. But I guess the only thing to do is enjoy it while it lasts, so if you will excuse me, I am off to dip my feet in the sea, lest it be the last chance I get.