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Our
final stop on Sunday was at Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrn-drobwll-llantysiliogogogoch. While I can tell you what this means (the Church of St Mary in the hollow of the white hazel near the rapid
whirlpool and the church of St Tysilio near a red cave), don't ask me to pronounce it! It turns out that the village was given this name in the 1880s purely for the purpose
of attracting tourists. And we could see why as there was certainly nothing else
there! Still, we dutifully stopped off for half an hour, bought postcards and
had our passports stamped with the name. The claim that this is the longest place
name in the world has been challenged though, by none other than us kiwis (click here to see).
We had an extraordinary £3 meal at Whetherspoons on Sunday night (can you sense my sarcasm?)
although I must admit it was very pleasant sitting in the sun on a sunny Sunday evening, laughing at the waitress who was
in the running for the worst service award. Arrr, how we love Britain. We considered
another night out on the town but Caernarfon, lovely little town that it is, just didn't offer much excitement! So we went home early and watched a bit of telly!
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| Megan and I enjoying the sun on Sunday |
It seems I ran out of steam on Monday, as there is a distinct lack
of photographs except for the one below, taken at Beddgelert. This town is named "Grave of Gelert" after a tear-jerker
story about a rash man who shot his dog Gelert, only to find out it had just saved his son's life.
Monday was otherwise taken up with a visit to Portmeirion, a bizarre,
garish town built as a private utopia by one man determined to show that building a town didn't mean having to forego greenery.
Many of the buildings came from Italy, earning the place the nickname, Little Italy. No one lives here, it's just for
the tourists.
We also had a short ride on the
Ffestiniog Railway, a vintage steam train, and then headed back to London, another six hours away! All in all
a fun weekend.
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| Gelert's grave at Beddgelert |
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