After Birmingham, I went to Wales because I was determined to get my castle back. You see, there is a place called Conwy Castle, and I figured it was time for the Welsh to hand it back to its rightful owner.
Today it is a ruin, but it is a truly spectacular ruin—perhaps the most impressive castle I have ever seen. It was so defensively strong that it only needed 30 troops to hold off an entire army, and it was never conquered militarily. There are eight massive towers, four of which have additional smaller towers on top. When you climb them, you are treated to an outstanding view of the castle town, the surrounding mountains, and the rich fishing bay nearby.
The town itself is completely walled in, with another 29 towers, and they are the most complete remaining town walls in Britain. It is hard to believe that they built the entire castle and all the walls in only four years!
The castle was the largest and most expensive of a series built by the English King Edward I to contain the Welsh. He defeated the Welsh army in 1277 and built some castles around the perimeter of Wales. Then six years later, the Welsh attacked again and burnt down all his castles! So Edward gathered a huge army and defeated them a second time. Then he built even more castles, one of which was Conwy. It was a lynchpin, as it is on the Welsh side of the river Conwy, traditionally a strong defensive position enabling Welsh armies to hold off the English. He also built the walled town, which was only populated with Englishmen—the Welsh we only allowed inside once a week for market.
The Welsh were a fierce people, and even magnificent Conway castle didn’t deter them. Once, when Edward was staying there, they besieged Conway for months. Unfortunately, it was so strong, the couldn’t break it, and even if they did, Edward could have escaped by sea, as there is a seaside entrance and British warships controlled the waves. Eventually, English troops relieved the castle.
But the Welsh weren’t finished with Edward yet. They waited until Good Friday, when the castle garrison were all at prayer. It also happened to be April Fool’s Day. Then a few of them knocked on the door, claiming to be carpenters there to work on the roof. The cook opened the castle door for them—and they promptly burnt it down, and the town as well. Then the couple of them held off a counter-attacking English army for months, until finally they negotiated their freedom. Pretty crazy, right?
I wasn’t able to stay in Conwy because there is only living space for about 300 people inside the town walls, so hotel beds are rare. So I stayed in this little seaside town called Llandudno, which is prononced as if you are coughing up phlegm and then swearing in a foreign language.
Names aside, it is stunningly beautiful… charming hotels spread across a wide beach, flanked by two hills called Great and Little Orme. You can take harbour cruises, hike up the Ormes, and do all sorts of fun little things there. I fully intend to come back to this part of the world.
The Welsh train ride was rather eventful—I was woken from my slumber by a wild bachelorette party. These girls started drinking around noon, and were now on the train talking to me, sitting on my lap, and feeding me beer. It was just awful, I must say. Haha.
Unfortunately, they got off before my stop. Yet, as they had involved nearly everyone on the train in their shenanigans, those of us left over after they were gone continued a (much more civilized) conversation. It turns out that one of the guys they were talking to was gay—I’m talking skin-tight hot pink girls outfit, sings and dances and writes his own films kind of gay. He was complaining about how Wales is such a backward hole and he can’t wait to get out of there and go places with gay-friendly culture… and we realized that he is the living incarnation of the only gay in the village! It was also interesting when the train filled with new people, including a very rough working class father and his young son, who sat within earshot of this gay character as he loudly chronicled his coming out story. The father got progressively more uncomfortable the more he heard, and he kept trying to distract his son to prevent him from hearing anything. But it worked a little too well: the son launched into a loud repetitive song that embarrassed the father further, forcing him to vacillate between shushing his son and having to hear the coming out story. I thought it was fascinating, if sad, to see him squirming around thus. If he could just relax and accept things as they are, it would have been easier on him and his son.
Unfortunately, they got off before my stop. Yet, as they had involved nearly everyone on the train in their shenanigans, those of us left over after they were gone continued a (much more civilized) conversation. It turns out that one of the guys they were talking to was gay—I’m talking skin-tight hot pink girls outfit, sings and dances and writes his own films kind of gay. He was complaining about how Wales is such a backward hole and he can’t wait to get out of there and go places with gay-friendly culture… and we realized that he is the living incarnation of the only gay in the village! It was also interesting when the train filled with new people, including a very rough working class father and his young son, who sat within earshot of this gay character as he loudly chronicled his coming out story. The father got progressively more uncomfortable the more he heard, and he kept trying to distract his son to prevent him from hearing anything. But it worked a little too well: the son launched into a loud repetitive song that embarrassed the father further, forcing him to vacillate between shushing his son and having to hear the coming out story. I thought it was fascinating, if sad, to see him squirming around thus. If he could just relax and accept things as they are, it would have been easier on him and his son.
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