27 March   Monday  There Be Wales-Cymru!  Tintern Abbey   Monmouth  Cardiff

Breakfast is presented fancy at the Apex in Bath, but the eggs don’t arrive until later.  It is a good meal—including mueslis, fruit, juice and coffee.  The morning promises to be beautiful and it doesn’t disappoint at all.   We bring our luggage down and load the coach early, but the city is bustling. We
cross the River Avon and head west on A36 out of the city traveling along an old stone raised railway.  We drive west towards Bristol, but skirt around the city on A4174.  North of the city we join the M4 heading northwest towards the River Severn.  The highway forks north on A48 and across the broad river on the Severn Bridge—a suspension bridge between South Gloucestershire and Monmouthshire, South East Wales.  We are now in Wales.                  

We pass through Chepstow and take A466 north through the Wye Valley.  All signs, etc. are in both English and Welsh. This part of Wales is much hillier than Cornwall and Devon.  It is beautiful and green with so many trees and the flowering trees are in bloom.  We wind up the valley towards Abaty Tyndryn Tintern Abbey.  Around a bend in the road,  the ruins of the Abbey can clearly be seen in the distance.  It is an awesome sight of the beauty of ancient architecture and gothic arches.  It is a large ruin.  The church and grounds are amazing and every bit as big as Bath Abbey—probably larger.  The windows and roofs are gone, but the structural skeleton is still there.  Amazing that the gothic window mullions and details are still intact.

Tintern Abbey was started in 1131 by Walter de Clare, Lord of Chepstow. It was the first Cistercian foundation in Wales, and only the second in Britain.  The Cistercians believed in the Benedictine requirement prayer and work.  They were the strictest of the monastic orders, and demanded the construction of their abbeys would be like "none of our houses built in cities, in castles or villages.” –Wikipedia.  The uneducated brothers did the work of building and the educated would pray of others who paid because they were busy elsewhere—like crusades.  The remains we're seeing today are from 400-years (1131 to 1536)--a time of continual growth.  English Kings were very jealous of the church and it’s wealth.  When Henry VIII, did away with the Roman Catholic Church, monasteries were banned—thus ending monastic life in England, Wales and Ireland.  Tintern Abbey and all properties were surrendered to the King's representatives who took everything valuable to the royal Treasury. The buildings and land were given to the lord of Chepstow.  The lead from the roof was sold and the building fell into ruin. 

By the mid-18th century tourists would visit ’wilderness’ areas—especially the Wye Valley for its romantic and picturesque qualities.  With vegetation and vines growing on ruins, it must have been an impressive and mystic place to visit.  Sue reads us a few lines of William Wordsworth’s poem “Lines Written a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey". It was written by the poet (of Daffodil fame) after a walking tour with his sister.  The over-abundance of words of the entire piece tends to glaze over the eyes, but he conveys his sense of bucolic bliss that eventually becomes his general philosophy. 

From the gift shop we walk into the grounds.  There are mainly the foundations of former buildings here—monastic cells, kitchen, halls, latrines, etc.  Most of the building stone were removed over the

centuries by locals to build or repair their homes,barns, etc.  The main church and what’s left is the real draw.  It is big.  Inside instead of floors, there are neatly tended lawns.  The arches and outside walls rise around us in an almost reassuring way as if to indicate this would a welcoming church centuries ago.  The stone formations are beautiful and the window openings really suggest that this was an awesome space.  The group swarms all over the site.  The weather is perfect.  We gather for a group photo before going back to the gift shop.  I find a pewter Tree of Life pennant and chain for Marianne and a Celtic Knots shawl.  Back at the coach we wait for everyone to show up and I take a quick walk around the ice cream and tourist buildings, use the toilets (upstairs) and check out the Anchor Inn pub. 

Grant pulls out and we are still heading north through the v-shaped valley.  It soon widens and we are nearing Monmouth.  The city is up on the side of a hill.  The castle is up the hill and I get a quick look at it before we turn onto the main street.  With so many of these old towns and villages, it is tough to maneuver the coach, so Grant drops us off at what appears to be the city hall (Shire Hall) with a statue (Charles Roles?) in front on Monnow Street.  It is close to lunch time so we split up and look for food.  I end up with the Helppie's at The Castle Inn grill.  We try to find a table and end up front near the windows.  We have lunch—bacon cheese burgers and chips (good but so heavy) and a pint of Fear Sail (?--a local brew.  Tonnie, Donna and others of our group also come in to the small space.

After lunch we head down hill on the busiest street to where Grant said we would be parked.    The towered Monnow Bridge crosses the Wye River at the bottom of the hill.  Across the river is the Parish Church of Saint Thomas the Martyr, Over Monnow.  We me up with Sue and more of the

group, turning right onto Monnow Keep at the Estero Lounge, expecting the coach at the bus stop.  No Coach. Others join us and wait.  Then we get the idea that maybe it was a left turn. So we head back to Monnow St. and down at the bottom of the hill turn left at The Robin Hood Inn.  There on Blestium Street is the coach and Grant is waiting—he and John having a smoke break.  South of town we get on A40 again and head south, taking the A449, that joins up to the M4 outside of Newport and head for Cardiff. 

It doesn’t take much time and we are in the big city of Cardiff.  We come in from the north on Northern Avenue.  This part of the city is old 1900’s and very diverse.   At an interchange it becomes A70 and we enter the main city, passing the Castle grounds and turning onto a very busy Duke Street. We pass the castle gate on the right and the Castle Arcade on the left.  The crosswalk here is bold rainbow strips.  The Animal Wall is on the right after the castle buildings and the street turns into Castle.  The Holiday Inn is just beyond on the left before the Cardiff Bridge across the River Taff.  We stop and unload and enter a very stylish, modern lobby with a lounge and a restaurant-- down a graceful swoop of steps.  Upstairs the hotel is old and cramped and not in great condition—nothing like the Apex in Bath.  The layout is very confusing, but I finally find my room—tight and sparse needing TLC with a tiny bathroom.  My window is right on Castle Street across from Pettigrew Tea Rooms and Bute Park Gate. 

I am back down to the lobby, deciding if I should site-see, go to the harbor or get tickets at the train station—about a half mile south on Westgate Street.  If I opt for the Harbor I will have to get a bus a few blocks south on Westgate. A couple of the ladies have decided to find another hotel.  I meet up with Jason and Debra and tag long as he tries to find a Music Store to find where any local pubs are having live music tonight, Monday, so he can sit in and play guitar—his jam.  I always like going into music stores. So Debra and I are racing down Westgate, trying to keep up with Jason, who knows where there is a store.  We pass Principality Stadium, just behind townhouses and right behind the hotel—there will be a Rugby match there tomorrow.  At the Queens Gate Pub we turn onto Golate/Wharton Street and go two blocks and find G.M Music—a small shop with mainly stringed instruments—guitars, mandolins, fiddles and just a couple keyboards.  The clerk says there are no live gigs on Monday nights so Jason is stuck with what to do next.  Eventually that afternoon, they score tickets to the opera, Poulenc’s only opera, “Dialogues of the Carmelites”--very tragic martyrdom of the Carmelite nuns. 

I part company with them and head north on St. Mary’s Street (a very busy pedestrian walk way) north towards Castle Street. I go through two different Victorian indoor shopping arcades.  So many of the shops are permanently closed.  I find a Welsh souvenir store and get a beautiful cup for Marianne, a 'Jones' History book and a crossed flags—Welsh/American lapel pin for me.  The clerk is playing Celtic Folk music CD and ask if the artist is Welsh—no, it is Rose McDowell-Scottish. The whole downtown area is beautiful and well-planned.

I walk several blocks east where Duke St. turns into Queens St. and another pedestrian mall.  This one is more park-like with lots of trees, just blooming spring flowers, lots of people, families and a guy trying, unsuccessfully, to karaoke to the Beatles “Come Together”.  There are other musicians that are better as I walk along the mall.  I am trying to avoid the gigantic indoor mall St David’s Dewi Sant—between St. Johns and Fredericks Streets.  By this time I feel I have done all the walking I can (plus the bacon/cheese but the bacon-cheeseburger is not sitting well) and turn south on Churchway—avoiding Cardiff Queen Street Cardiff Mall Caerdydd Heol y Frenhines Caerdydd (another indoors mall).  It looks like a straight shot here, with wall to wall building for several blocks-- southeast.  I head down the street, trying to find an opening or alley to cross back west, but there are none.  I pass St David's Metropolitan Cathedral—walking on to Bridge Street. 

I finally can turn west, but all I see is the entrance to the huge mall.  I breakdown and go in, hoping to find a restroom, and a quick way out.  Besides the weather has started to turn could and cloudy and it is threatening rain.  Mission accomplished, I find an escape on Hill St. and find the Hayes—another pedestrian mall with trees.  Going north I find Wharton and St. Mary’s, again, heading towards the castle.  I take a pause on a bench out in front of the Hodge House across from the Market Building and Cardiff Market  Marchnand Caerdydd--another indoor mall.  Then I head up to Duke St, passing the Castle Arcade, Zizzi, The Potted Pig, The Blue Bell--formlery Major Goat--formerly Blue Bell (advertising Welsh Cawl (lamb stew), and PizzaExpress.So msh American fast-food--ugh!

As I walk back to the Holiday Inn, I notice the street is a lot busier as it nears 16:00.  I see a side walk hawker selling Welsh National Rugby gear—scarfs, etc. Later Cindy (soprano) shows us a scarf she bought.  I now remember that Sue, a big rugby fan, told us there was an afternoon match tomorrow afternoon at the Principality Stadium.  I get back to hotel, find the room (not exactly easily) and take a power nap.  I want Cawl on this cold evening, so I head back to the Blue Bell, but the small Pub in completely full.  I walk the castle side of the castle back to the hotel, taking pictures of all the animals on the wall.  At the

hotel I meet Donna and Tonnie, who are going to have dinner in the restaurant and I join them.  We sit by the huge windows that have a view of the stadium. I order a Stella Artois and pork dish, that turns out to be a ham steak with two fried egg and chips on it.  The worst.  Donna gets a text from Jason and the Snyder family that they are going to the opera.  We opt out knowing that the nuns get hanged in the end. The ladies tell me all about their afternoon ‘Chasing Tom Jones.’  They took taxi to his home town, Treforest, on Laura Street.  Their account of the ride, sight-seeing, finding the house, the phone booth--where he’d call for gigs, the first venue he performed at, and even posing on the same street where he had so many years ago—‘touching the green, green grass of home' is amazing.  Their account of the ride, sight-seeing and stalking is great fun.  It’s something Tonnie always wanted to do.

Our young waiter, Giorgios, loves the NBA in America and not so much football.  He tells us his brother is coming to town for the match and then has us guess his nationality.  We are all over the map.  I suggest (please don’t take offense) Turkey and he mocks distain.  Immediately Donna guesses Greece and she is right.  He came cover a few years back when Greece was having a terrible economic crisis. Back in her college days Donna had roommate that was the daughter of a Greek Superstar Wrestler, Gorgeous George, and finds a picture.  The waiter knows exactly who he is and is happy about the connection.  Later,up in the lounge, Pete offers to buy everyone a round.  I opt for a Pig Orchard Cider.  Thanks Pete!