And at last came Wales

Hard to believe I have come to the last post on my travels in Europe before coming back to the States. At least I am finishing up these posts less than a year later.

I spent a week in Wales with my good friends Stephanie and Mary Beth. We got a screaming deal at a resort in a small town called Machynlleth, thanks to Stephanie and her parent's time share investment.

Mary Beth and I arrived in Mach (that is what we started calling the town to avoid slaughtering the Welsh pronunciation, and because the locals refer to it as Mach) at 11:30 PM, on the last train for the night. There was one other gentleman to get off, and luckily for us he did, because he saved our bacon.

We were told that normally taxis are waiting at the train station and that we shouldn't have any problem finding one. Unfortunately, that is true. Mary Beth and I started walking towards town, but quickly decided to turn around and go back and try to find a phone to use.

As we arrived back at the station entrance the gentleman who also got off the train was waiting there. He inquired if we needed help and we explained the problem. It just so happened that he too was waiting for a taxi. He was retuning home from London where he had watched his football team play. He was a bit tipsy and unable to drive his own car, which he offered to let us drive to the resort where we were staying. Thanking him for this we instead accepted his offer to use his cell phone to call for a taxi. He actually ended up ordering our taxi for us in Welsh, which was pretty cool. While waiting for the taxi we discovered that our new friend was a sheep farmer. This of course started a conversation about his sheep dogs. We asked if his dogs were as amazing as sheep dogs are reported to be. He said that no his sheep dogs are lazy and only run down hill. Every morning they hop on the back of his 4-wheeler for a ride to the top hill and then chase the sheep down. We had a good laugh.

All in all it was a delightful week spent seeing a castle, visiting the coast and tramping across farms and the green, green, green Welsh countryside

Statue of Owain Glyndwr, a Prince of Wales. I found the carvings fascinating:


Looking down on Mach while hiking through the countryside:


A Welsh golf course lawnmower:


One day we rode the train to see Harlech Castle. Other than the day being dreary it was a very cool place to visit. You are free to roam as you wish. You can climb up on top of the walls and look out over the city and surrounding countryside. Because of the gray weather, the green of the grass was shocking in its intensity:


A view from one of the walls. The weather for the day was what you see below, low hanging clouds with an ever present mist and mingled with heavy rain:


Playing around with the black and white setting on my camera. Because the weather was so dreary and the castle was built with gray stone, the colored version of this photo looks about the same:


This is the bridge that we crossed everyday when traveling from the resort where we stayed into Mach:


Me on the coast of Wales. We took a day to visit the city of Aberystwth a hour bus ride from Mach that was cheaper than the train:


The street that ran the length of the beach was very charming with its many colored houses. Made me wonder just how much it costs to have a seaside view. This is looking south:


Looking north. At the time I wished I had had a panoramic lens and access to a boat so I could get far enough out on the water to get a full picture:


This is the sign one sees at the beginning of the wharf. I think the sign would work well when wanting to steer/motivate/scare an individual down the right path:


Aberystwth Castle ruins. The castle was built by Owain Gwynedd:


A small stream we had to traverse on a hike where we were almost lost in the Welsh countryside. I had visions of our bodies never being found:


I never could get over how green everything was. It was beautiful:


When I return to Wales it will be to visit Snowdonia, a national park that has the highest peak in Wales. If the park is anything like the rest of the country, it is going to be amazing. This blog post ends a month of travel. Hard to believe it has been almost a year since I returned home. The question now, where do you suggest I travel next?

And then there was Guernsey

After seeing Mont St. Michel and staying at a B&B in a town I call Little Briton, because everyone we met there was not French, but British, we made our way to St. Malo, where we spent the day before boarding the ferry to Guernsey. The ferry hits the two English Channel islands, Jersey and Guernsey before docking in Portsmouth.

Boat yard in St. Malo:


We needed to do laundry and had time so we figured why not. We had to decipher the instructions on how to purchase soap and run the washer and dryers because it was not all that clear. The amazing part, the pants I am wearing in this picture, not the ones I was wearing when I entered. I did the world's fastest pants change so I could wash the jeans I was wearing, trust me, you would have been rendered speechless by my speed.




We then caught the ferry for the Isle of Guernsey. It was on the ferry that I heroically saved Mary Beth's priceless headband by asking a crew member to walk out on bow of the boat to retrieve it from where the wind had blown it.

Guernsey has quite a World War II history. The island was captured by German soldiers, who took control of the Bailiwick of Guernsey (shown below). The Bailiwick is now a historical site were one can learn about the German occupation. I read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (highly recommend) after visiting Guernsey. While this book is a work of fiction, it is based upon historical facts and gave me an idea of what life was like for those on the island at this time:



Looking back on St. Peter Port from the Bailiwick of Guernsey:


Another view of St. Peter Port:


La Maison de Victor Hugo:


We did not go inside because they wanted 15 quid, and I am sure Monsieur Hugo would be appalled at that absurd price:


For my niece Rowan. I take pictures of any restaurant sign with a niece or nephew's name on it. Rowan certainly has the more popular name. This is the second restaurant I found with the name Rowan in the title. The other restaurant was in the Lake District.


This is how I hope to pass from this world to the next:


Another place on the island we visited was the Little Chapel. It is covered in broken pieces of china and was quite fun to walk around inside, definitely not a place for tall people:











The flight from Guernsey to Birmingham was on a double propeller plane that held approximately 40 people. I can honestly say I have now been on a flight where I thought for sure the plane was going to crash on landing. It was stormy and windy in Birmingham, and I had a death grip on the arm rest and Mary Beth's arm the entire time we were descending.

Our Amazing Race to Mont St. Michel

I finished blogging about Italy a while ago and was feeling a bit down that I didn't have more to blog about when I remembered, I have not blogged about the last week of my trip. After meeting up with Mary Beth in Italy, we engaged in our own amazing race to get from Milan, Italy to Mont St. Michel on the Brittany coast of France. I admit my image of what taking a night train would be like comes from watching the Hogswarts Express. Our train experience from Milan to Paris was not like that. We happened to share a compartment with the loudest snoring Indian ever (given he is the only snoring Indian I have ever shared a train department with). Luckily, I had ear plugs which diminished the snoring just enough to get an uneasy rest. Mary Beth can back me up on how loud this gentleman was. Seriously folks, think chain saw being used next to your ear.

After getting to Paris, we used the underground to get to the train station at Montparnasse where we caught a train to Rennes. After misreading the bus schedule, we caught a bus directly to Mont St. Michel instead of being able to get to the city where are B&B was located. We finally made it to Mont St. Michel only to find out that there are no places where you can store your bags. The French national security plan no longer allows for baggage storage facilities, but you can carry your bag into any national building/monument you want. On my next trip I am going to try carrying the bag you see on my back in the picture below into the Louvre and see what happens:

Mary Beth and her bags

I and my bags. I used the wall to prop my bag up. I had an additional backpack that I carried on my front, it is on the ground at my feet.

Pictures of Mont St. Michel. I am a bit bummed that we were not able to stay until evening. Seeing it all lit up is supposed to be an awesome sight, nonetheless, it was inspiring:











These pictures look out towards the bay. When the tide comes in the sand below is covered.



When the tide is in, Mont St. Michel becomes an island with the road below as the only access.


Still smiling at the end of a very long day,


which continued with us trying to find a phone so that we could call the B&B where we had a reservation to come pick us up. Do you know we asked at least 5 different french men and none of them new the international calling code for France. We now know: 33.

Next stop, the Isle of Guernsey, which has a storied past involving German occupation during World War II.

Grandma @ 90

My Grandma Campbell celebrated her 90th birthday on April 19th, supposedly not a very good day to have a birthday, but since I think about both my Grandmas on this day (yes, my grandmothers share birthdays), I say that yes, yes you can have a good birthday on April 19th.

Turning 90 did bring one small miracle. Grandma let us take pictures of her. Grandma Campbell is pretty much blind in both eyes, which is why it is pretty amazing that she always knows when a camera is in the vicinity. She has developed quite the talent for running away or hiding her face. I think this year she let us take pictures because her hair was done, her makeup was on, and she was dressed for church:


Plus we have to admire Grandpa Campbell's hair.

Was able to see Matthew, Elizabeth and Evan who made the trip over from Nampa along with Michael, Chenoa and their kids. Evan has started leaning sideways when he is being held, meaning you have to hold on tighter than normal because you never know when he is going to suddenly lean:


Djouli really loves Evan. She wanted to help him with everything. I don't know if Evan yet returns those feelings:


Rowan showing me her junior officer for the Caldwell City Police Department sticker from Aunt Elizabeth:


Snaider wanted me to a picture of him striking this pose. Who am I to deny him this small pleasure?


It was a quick trip, but well worth it. I was able to see my Aunt Vickey who was visiting from Indiana, alas no pictures of her, and I think maybe, just maybe, we surprised grandma just a little.

I Heart Carter

During the Easter holiday I was able to spend some quality time in wonderful warm Arizona with my BFF Kristy, her sisters Alesa and Amren, her husband Chris, their dog Faust, and their delightful, adorable, fun loving, easy going, snugly son Carter. I love this little guy! I want to put him on shelf and take him down when I need some love and a hug. And how can you not love him too? Look at him, those blue eyes could melt even the coldest of hearts:


Here he is discovering a musical talent. All great drummers started with a metal bowl, a wooden spoon, and their mother's love that allows them to bang away.


Here is a video of Carter laughing, which can only turn your frown upside down. There is even some nice background music:

We were able to eat at this restaurant which turned out to be very good. I have never eaten at a Mexican/Chinese restaurant, have you? The owners are a husband and wife team. The wife is Chinese and the husband is Mexican. It will be highlighted on the Food Network's Diner's, Drive-ins and Dives:


I can't wait for Utah to be as warm as Arizona.