llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerych...

...wyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch

You must be thinking she must have had one too many glasses of shiraz (again!) before writing this post. But really, I’m not speaking (typing) gibberish nor did I fall asleep on the keyboard and was too lazy to use the backspace key; more on the title of today’s post later...

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The long weekend started with a trip to Marks and Spencer to pick up several boxes of my favourite asparagus lasgana (on sale!) – I’m definitely becoming more British by the day – and a homemade chocolate chip cake waiting for my husband’s arrival home. I know, I know, I’m such a good little wife :)

Maybe not that good, as I had to place a large knife to surreptitiously conceal (unsuccessfully, I must add) the sizable chunk I had sampled.

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In our attempt to chase the sun, our Saturday excursion brought us towards the UK’s northwest. We initially aimed for the city of Chester on the western edge of England, but after a slight detour atop a rocky crag in Chesire County (a visit to Beeston Castle), and being such excellent decision-makers that we are, we eventually headed towards Wales.

It was great to be back in a bilingual country but seeing the obscurely strung letters of Welsh was quite a contrast to my semi-fluency of French (I use the term ‘semi-fluency’ loosely much to the chagrin of my french-immersion-taught husband and my french-trained ballet teacher).



We stopped in Conwy, which was very similar to Carcassonne in that it was a walled city, but the only difference was that it was by the ocean (!). After lunch on a bench overlooking the harbour, we treated ourselves to ice cream sandwiches while we further explored the city. We walked along the town’s walls and had views of the fairly tale castle, countryside pastures, and distant mountains. Near the end of the walk, we met up with some chatty locals with some wise suggestions as to where our travels should lead next and the Isle of Anglesey was strongly advised.




And that leads up to the title of the post…

The 58 letters above are actually a village on the Isle. When translated into English, it means “St. Mary’s Church in the hollow of the While Hazel near a rapid whirlpool and the Church of St. Tysilio near the Red Cave”. One of the men we met in Conwy so kindly allowed us to videotape his pronunciation of the village’s name. So I guarantee the next time I’m back for a visit, I’ll be able to say the name properly with all the proper throat-clearing-sounding accents in place. In addition, the Welsh words tied together is a good trick for the next time I submit a manuscript to a journal with a strict 3,500 word limit :)



Aside: The official name is affectionally shorted to Llanfair PG or Llanfairpwll - a definite plus from a cartographer's perspective. However, from a tourist's perspective, it makes it absolutely indistinguishable from other villages on the Isle, which so conveniently start with 'Llanf'.

We carried onto the northern coast of the island to stop for a walk on the beach before heading home; albeit a bit longer than expected due to someone's (someone = me) poor navigation skills.



The rest of the photos from today.