Manorbier and Pembroke

In all its beauty, Pembrokeshire National Park is also blessed by its wonderful public transport.  Town and park planners must have put their heads together at some point in order to ease tourism in and around the region.  They've put together the Pembrokeshire Coastal Bus Services, an amalgamation of the region's various bus companies.  The buses travel along the coast, seven days a week during the summer and link people to walks, beaches, boat trips, local villages and attractions.  They operate like a hop-on hop-off service for minimal prices and ease road traffic down the windy, often one-way roads.  The buses are frequent and efficient.

For the non-car drivers we are, both Paul and I were amazed.  This was part of the reason i'd never gone back to Wales after my car-wielding sojourn years ago; I just didn't think it was possible sans automobile.  Thus, if you're reading this and thinking about a carless journey to South Wales, know that it is possible: Summer Bus Timetable.

Obviously, this service is severely truncated off-season.  But even once-an-hour-buses connecting the bigger villages from 7am-6pm will suffice when you're a tourist.  Thus, we hit the bus stop located almost directly in front of Sainsbury's and made our way to Manorbier, the home of one beautiful castle, a stunning beach with surfers, a coastal path and an excellent cafe.

This is where I'm sad that most of my photos are gone (updated in March with my reunited photos!). The weather was blustery but with the tide slowly rising, walkers took their dogs for walks/swims and surfers braved the elements to make something of the waves.  The sand was fine and tide pools set up shop all across the beach.  What remains:

The coastal path and surfers in the way, way background 

Manorbier's only tea room--delicious soup and sandwiches 

The castle at Manorbier also served as the backdrop to the film 'I Capture the Castle' and in semi-state of ruin, it set the mood fittingly.  We ate, decamped to the bus station and made our way to the village of Pembroke, the home of Henry VII's birth castle, a series of cute pubs and two very odd antique shops that traded out of disused churches. 

Pembroke Castle, the home of one of the King Henries

We spent the rest of our time in Tenby, taking more pictures, drinking more beer and generally soaking up the good cheer.  Wales is an incredibly friendly place and despite the fact that it was probably more expensive to stay in the UK as opposed to going abroad, i'd highly recommend it.  It had that whole cold and kind of rainy romantic feel.  Perhaps that's how I know I've been in Britain too long--there's a romance to the rain.  

Bring on 2014's travels!

Tenby

We made ourselves a little base in the seaside town of Tenby, the home of 2.5 miles of sandy beaches, a panty-stealing ghost and a major summer tourist destination.  In late October, it was quietly occupied with locals, a group of hardy dog-owning walkers and the occasional drinker.

With a population of roughly 5,000 year round residents it's the biggest seaside town west of Swansea.  This isn't saying much.  But in terms of peace, beauty and solitudinal walks, it wins, hands down.

Tenby is enclosed in 13th century medieval walls; we were housed right outside the western turret--an epic view if you didn't grow up in an old country. The town itself was filled with what you'd expect a seaside town to be filled with: penny-candy stores,  bucket and spade shops and the occasional consequence of rising inflation:

There's also a rogue pasty shop, a taste of what I thought was Michigan but turns out to have a historical link all the way back to the miners of Cornwall:  

A very cluttered used book store with room for one person at a time:

And then stunning view after stunning view:

Tenby at low tide 

Island view, accessible at low tide only

Tenby harbor at high tide

beardless and windswept 

We were also v. impressed with a range of delicious dining choices.  Though restaurants didn't operate to our London-hour dining schedules, it didn't stop them from being crammed with people at all hours of the day and evening.  Our particular favourite, The Mooring, was a nondescript white building just across from Tenby's Tesco store.  The lights were sufficiently dim but unromantic but the waiting list and custom suggested otherwise.  Two hours later, I floated away on a cloud of fish stew and Paul on a cloud of duck cooked to perfection.  Impressive.  

We used our Tenby haven as a base to explore the rest of Pembrokeshire National Park and were not disappointed.  Because we had no access to a car, we had our concerns about getting around the region, but this proved only a minor inconvenience.  Because who can argue with walking on the beach in the sun at low tide: 

Buses weren't nearly as frequent as they would have been in the summer and tours and boat rides were shut for the season, but we still made our way around.  I tried to be patient as we waited in places but was secretly grateful that everywhere was not swarming with tourists. 

South Wales

I am now slightly heartened by the fact that I uploaded 7 of the 40 or 50 photos I took on Paul and my trip to South Wales at the end of October.  All hope is not lost!

During half term, I forfeited my passport to the UK Border Agency in exchange for an extension on my work visa.  That was a dramatic process in of itself but a story for another day. The moral of this story is that I was locked into the UK and thus, we took a series of trains that got stuck behind sheep to Wales.

First stop, and only for an evening, Swansea.  The highlight:

All things considered, it's good God found Swansea.

We also took a little journey to The Mumbles, a hillside-to-seaside town with a cute little pier and some lovely hillside walks.  It was a recommendation by my coworker, Clara, who grew up in South Wales.  In your mind's eye, imagine: rain, high winds and crashing waves.  See, it's like you're there. 

Our next journey saw us through to the Pembroke National Park area of Wales.  We arrived into Tenby, only after a 45-minute delay, where a passenger got off and walked with a particularly stubborn sheep that decided to park itself on the rails.  We were greeted with sideways rain and an angry wind.  

To combat this, we drank beer. 

The South Coast

It's Christmastime once again and, once again, I find myself in Michigan.  This time i'm sitting in a coffee shop that once housed the memories of my youth, trading under the name Caribou Coffee.  Times change, capitalism shifts--they've been bought by another company that will be able to maximise the earning potential.  I'm sad.  The coffee's essentially the same but the symbol is lost.  

It's tricky--home always, always makes me nostalgic and usually not in the good ways.  I'm beginning to pinpoint it, but I'm trying to keep it to myself because I usually inadvertently offend someone.  I'll boil it down to a conflict of interests between Michigan's socially constructed 'normal' vs. everything else.  Boiled down further: Jen v. the midwest. 

There's an extra edge to my bitterness this year that has nothing to do with this.  16 hours before my flight home, my handbag was stolen from its resting perch next to my left foot.  I was in a cafe near my flat and my phone, credit cards and sister's Christmas gift became casualties of city living.  Rochester would seem like the reprieve yet I find myself blogging destinations without pictures to do it justice. Plus, I'm in the midst of insurance paperwork, password changes and restricted access to my bank account.

Zooming back out, I am dependent on what friends and I myself may have posted on Facebook.  We'll start with the most recent trip to the South Coast for a weekend with the Maths department, current and former, of my school.  Paul managed to get us an invite and one November Friday we zipped away in the car down to Milford upon Sea, over to the New Forest and away with the wild ponies.  

In an image:

And, thankfully, in Pratik's images: 

beautifully perfect weather 

Our weekend crew, including Pratik's shadow

Polar Bear dip

Ellie, the wild pony whisperer 

Sunday roast, the essential end to a British weekend away

That's perked me up a bit.  Not all is lost.  

Copenhagen

Because life is crazy and flights from London to the continent are: a. cheap and b. plentiful, Dawn and I decided to spend a whirlwind weekend drinking our way around Copenhagen in mid-October.

The city is notorious for its Scandinavian price tags and disgustingly beautiful people who are just so effing nice.  You want to hate them; they're gorgeous, their English is perfect, they pull off cable knit with aplomb.  But you cannot hate the Danish because they're just so freaking nice and their capital city is filled with beautiful, odd, quirky everything.  Case in point--street art:  

Even the public toilets have a certain charm

In places, it's kind of what you expect Denmark to be--lots of canals and colourful buildings.  I could imagine having drinks on canals in the summertime would be rather romantic.  Seeing as it's October with its requisite wind and rain, it doesn't work in quite the same way.  

                                                      

This in mind however, the Danish have a uniquely Scandinavian word to describe their inner warmth.  'Hygge', a word with no English equivalent, translates as 'creating a cosy, warm atmosphere by enjoying the good things in life with good people.

And warm and cozy it was

 On the downside, sandwiches are minuscule (and rather expensive).  But if I were to put two and two together, it may be that tiny sandwiches+big prices=skinny people.

Smørrebrød (A Danish open-faced sandwich--Danish lettering courtesy of the google search/copy and paste feature). Don't be deceived--in real time, this delicious concoction of rye bread, potatoes, radishes and mayo/cream cheese hybrid was a quarter of the size of an actual sandwich.  At £5 each, we ordered two and called it a day.

We then opted for drinks and wanderings in various trendy parts of Copenhagen including Vesterbro and Norrebro.  Bars and restaurants were plentiful and we started by getting lost attempting to find a trendy wine bar.  We ended in a pub full of sober and drunk Copenhagers (and a smattering of tourists).

Too much wine later, we stumbled home in preparation for our Sunday morning wanderings--a walk to see The Little Mermaid (definitely little) and the Royal Palace.  Some pictures of various views:  

 View from the top of Rundetarn (the Round Tower) 

 

The Royal Palace

 

Rosenborg Castle, I think.

In total, we only spent about 48 hours in the city which is not enough time, really.  We managed a boat ride and some walking between the drinking and eating but a weekend is never really long enough in a place.  Unless it's Helsinki in February, of course...

Flying in Style

I'm probably luckier than most but i've had the odd situation where I've been upgraded from coach to business class on short and long haul flights.  The last time it happened, my mom cried to Delta because one of my Christmas flights stateside was cancelled due to an inch of snow at Heathrow.  It's plush--champagne on arrival, lie down seats, a real duvet.   It's the way to fly; it also really spoils you.

So I toyed with the idea of paying for business class upgrades on our way home from Vietnam.  After two action-packed weeks on various coaches, bikes and flights, all we wanted was a hassle free 16-hour journey where we could fall blissfully to sleep.  In the end, my practical side won out and we boarded onto our comfortable but not spacious seats on the flight from Ho Chi Minh to Dubai.  8 hours and a run across the terminal later, we checked in to our next flight.  Only the flight attendant took one look at my ticket, ripped it up and issued me a new one in row 3.  Paul was beside himself until the flight attendant issued him one next to me.  The girls behind us were not so fortunate--they'd booked their tickets separately and only one friend got the upgrade.

coach

 

free business class upgrade 

And okay, we were a bit more than enthusiastic--we had our country folk gone to the city moment(s).

Paul commenced sleeping in the zzzz position almost immediately as I enjoyed my glass of Moet with my noise canceling headphones.  I enjoyed my not-plastic cutlery.  I slept and watched films intermittently. And the flight attendants were nice to us, nice. Really, really nice.  

Upon our arrival into London eight hours later, Paul finally woke up and we stumbled off the plane and back into reality.  It was a charming end to a fabulous holiday.  Vietnam part two coming one day!