Castle Caernarfon

This is a bit of an retroactive post. I passed through Wales a few weeks ago but at Marie's suggestion I'm making a post for Cymru. For those who don't know Cymru is the Welsh name for Wales. It is pronounced "kumrree" with the r's being rolled. I didn't learn much Welsh in my five days but I sure enjoyed the sound of it being spoken. Welsh reminded me of "The Lord of The Rings." The Welsh language puts many consonant sounds in close quarters.  When viewing a written word, with no prior knowledge of how the letters sound phonetically, it's hard to see how certain words could even be pronounced at times! Once Rhys and Marie explained the phonetic basis for the language, it was much easier to understand, and we could begin piecing-out words and meaning from the wealth of Welshness around us.

Castle Caernarfon (Amanda, Marie, Rhys)

Marie and Amanda defending Castle Caernarfon

Wales has a rather rocky history punctuated frequently by the English. By that I mean they were often at war with the English. From these commonly occuring conflicts the need for castles arose. Many of the castles were begun by English kings and nobleman, to subjugate the Welsh people and bring them to heel. However, in the end the Welsh turned the tides and used the castles for their own defense. Currently Wales is undergoing a change where Great Britain is returning political power to the Welsh. Something similar is also happening in Scotland.  Both the Welsh and Scottish feel its "high-time" this came about.  The amount of manpower to create these monsters of stone must have been massive. I've no doubt that many a Welshman perished to overwork at the hands of a callous English noble. Walking through the castle and seeing the thickness of its walls and the intricate nature of its stone construction made me ponder the ability of humans to construct so much in the name of war.

Harbour behind Marie & Rhys' place

Outside Rhys and Marie's back-door the view was incredible. The sky stretched out and you could just glimpse the ocean, stretching to Canada, past the small harbour.  Aberystwyth is a wonderful small town, packed with pubs, cafes and restaurants all frequented by their large number of students from the local university. The pubs are often full and late-night-drunken-stumbles-home occur frequently. Our first night Marie took us to The Academy, an old church renovated into a bar. Other than the unsettling fact that your sinning in Gods house, it's all good. The place was filled with students in all kinds of absurd dress-up clothes and varying degrees of impairdness. One of the local specialties is four shots of vodka with redbull, served in a pint glass. So you can imagine what the bar sounded like, especially with its echoing church walls. The next morning we headed for breakfast at Marie's cafe "Caffi Blue Creek!"

Marie's Cafe

The Welsh National library (Amanda and Rhys)

A sample of Welsh writing

 The food Marie prepared was fantastic. All very fresh and immensely pleasing. Amanda had the Veggie Breakfast while I opted for a smoked bacon and egg-er with spinach. Throughout the week we returned daily to the "Caffi" for some of Marie's fantastic carrot cake. The downstairs of the cafe is encircled in books provided by the second hand bookshop next door, and for two pound cafe goers can shnag a book to take home.

The hills surrounding Aberystwyth are very picturesque and allow some great ocean viewing. We decided to hike up even though Marie had told us there was a funicular for lazy people!  From the hills you looked down on Aberystwyth, encircled in yellow flowers, with the sea stretching out to the horizon and felt completely at peace.  That is until, we had to walk down and our legs reminded us we had run all over a medieval castle like excited school children, the day before!

View of Aberystwyth and its cove

Naples, Italy

Here is my first blog!! At my mothers suggestion i've set one up. Here I will chronicle my current stay in Naples and small trips around Italy, as well as, my coming journeys through Greece, Tunisia, Morocco, Spain and Iceland.

To start: Naples. Naples is fantastic. Its loud, boisterous, smelly and fun! Just walking around and viewing the daily interactions between Italians is interesting. Italians don't converse like Canadians, far from it, they use a whole body approach when talking.  They place their legs a certain way while their hands rove through the air waving and shaking to underscore spoken sentiments. My favourite "hand gesture" is when the fingers are squeezed together and the thumb is placed on the ring and the middle finger, this whole setup is then extended from the body, about an arms length, and shaken up and down slowly. The same hand formation when shaken above the head means "What the hell do you want?"

The foundation on which Italian discussions take place is no less interesting than themselves. The majority of roads and sidewalks (when there are any!) are made from rectangular basalt blocks. The stones are hewn from nearby Mt. Vesuvius and dragged over to Naples. Mt. Vesuvius is the active volcano that was responsible for Pompeii! When walking around on daily errands one can glimpse Vesuvius hanging over Naples like a silent sentinel. Vesuvius isn't Naples only sentinel they have hundreds of Churches, watching over their sinful lives. Italians have one type of church, BIG. The churches are massive feats of construction with interior decor to match! Every single nook and cranny is carved or gilded and shows-cases the skill of Italian craftspeople. While the streets and churches are awe inspiring other simple buildings like apartments and shops have received slightly less attention. Apartments are often lacking paint and stucco can be crumbling or falling off in great lumps. The ground level of every building is usually given a little redecorating by friendly graffiti artists. But rather than taking away from Naples, all the crumbling buildings add to the place. The feeling is one of venerable age rather than abject decline.

Onto scooters! Scooters are the Italians preferred mode of transportation. They permeate every street and sidewalk. Italians begin scootering at age twelve with a 50cc bike. When they reach sixteen they get to move to a 150cc bike and then as eighteen year olds whatever they like. To warn pedestrians that they are approaching scooters toot their horns in rapid succession. I now find myself unconsciously flowing with the crowd and moving left or right when the scooters blast sounds.




I really want to rent a scooter, however Italians have suggested that I remain alive by not riding one. Many people die every year from scooter crashes. Its not hard to see why! Scooters don't obey regular driving rules they just weave in and out wherever they can fit. You'll see scooters passing buses on the right or blowing red lights!