Then we arrived in Llandudno, which is on the sea. It has the feel of a retiree's resort town; there's a pier with little shops on it going out into the ocean, and the streets in the town are all full of interesting shops.
We went out to a pub there (strangely, in both Scotland and Ireland there was singing in and around the pubs, but the Welsh didn't sing) and then I went back to the hotel and after having taken more painkillers, I spent a half-hour in the shower trying to get some relief from my nasty arm pain.
Then I dropped off to sleep with King Lear on my chest.
Friday morning we had a lovely breakfast in the hotel, and went to Caernarfon Castle (that's pronounced Car-narv-on, like the guy who funded Howard Carter's expedition to dig up Tut). Then they let us loose. We were all over the castle; up towers and down hallways and in and out of passages. That was a blast. We found out, yet again, that though they built lovely castles, the people in the Middle Ages had trouble with stairs. They were narrow, they were uneven, and they got worse the further you went up. At least it was lovely and sunny, or I could have complained about the wet, too.
Then we went to a place called Portmeirion. This must be Welsh for "odd town," because though the place was lovely and the buildings built wonderfully, the atmosphere was just...weird. I can't explain it. It just felt sort of floaty and out of place.
But then, ah, then we found the beach.
The town is up on a high bit of rock overlooking this HUGE expanse of sand, surrounded by mountains. It's a tidal flat-where I stood was going to be flooded about an hour to two hours after I left it. You could see the ripples in the sand where the waves had been.
I was practically giddy; it was so cool. Not even the picture of a palm tree or the flowers could compare.
Then we went to Llechwedd Slate Caverns. Wales is known for slate mining; we had a short tour of it, though I have to admit the accents on the characters being portrayed through a rotten sound system were so thick that I could barely understand what was being said. I got the gist: they mined slate and it was dangerous.
The good thing is, however, I got a sheep there. His name is Ianto, after Ianto Jones in Torchwood (it's a show in Wales with Welsh names. His seemed to fit the sheep.) He officially became the Welsh mascot of the trip. Wales may have a dragon on their flag, but they should have a sheep. The darn things were everywhere; on the hillsides, in the fields, off the fields, around the corner...SHEEP.
It didn't help that we girls squealed every time we spotted a lamb bouncing around.
We got back to the hotel; Holly and I got something to eat and then I crashed about 8 that night and barring only waking up briefly twice, I got up about 7 in the morning.
My arm was really, really feeling good. I mean it. Sunday morning I woke up and barring the obvious leftover twinges, I wasn't hurting non-stop anymore.
But morning brought its own interesting news: In the middle of the night sometime, one of the guys had turned his shower on, gotten distracted, and left for three hours. He flooded his hotel room, funny enough probably while he was jumping in the ocean.
He came down to breakfast looking pretty sheepish (ha ha.)
Then we went to Swallow Falls, which is a really big waterfall in what could be nicely termed as the middle of nowhere. It was icy on the stairs down to the falls; probably because we were up in the mountains.
Betwys y Coed was next. It's a little town about 5 miles down the river, but it still has rapids running all the way through it. We stayed for a bit-I got chocolate for myself and a souvenir for Mom that she's going to laugh at (probably really, really hard, since her sense of humor is as warped as mine. Sorry, Ma.)
Then we were headed back here, and that's when things went a wee bit sour.
We had watched one movie (The Kingdom-little loud but not too bad) and a few minutes later were kind of asking for another one. One of the professors got a bit rude; said he didn't want to watch another one and that he didn't want to be subjected to that much noise with that sound system.
There was silence for a bit, then we disregarded him and tried to start Wedding Crashers. The DVD was having problems; meanwhile, the professor who'd been complaining was on the cell phone talking to someone.
Then we saw him get up and go up to Bronwyn, who was our trip chaperone, and talk to her for a couple of minutes, and then he sat back down.
The TV was abruptly shut off without explanation, but one of the girls came back and said that this professor had called the principal of Harlaxton and complained, and then when he apparently didn't get a decent response out of him, went to Bronwyn and said that he wanted his money back for every trip, all of them, if any movie was turned on.
So, in retaliation, the entire back of the bus sang songs for an hour, everything from Bohemian Rhapsody to Happy Birthday.
I think most of the students at this moment think he overreacted to the situation; some of us say that some of the students in the back did, too. I personally think that if he'd wanted a nice, quiet trip with his wife someplace he shouldn't have climbed onto a bus with a bunch of 19-21 year olds. That's just asking for trouble.
He's got enough money as a professor I don't see why he just can't go independently and quit yelling at us when we want to have something to alleviate our boredom during a long bus ride. Throwing a tantrum like a five year old didn't impress me at all; merely made me think that maybe he should get off and find his own way back to Harlaxton.
But that's my take on it.
Today I visited the doctor; who suggested that fatigue might have been a factor in my flareup (I get tired, my immune system goes AH! and everything starts to kind of PSH on me.) She's going to try and get me better anti-inflammatory stuff; meanwhile I am to not push my arm beyond what it can take and get to bed at night. And take steady doses of ibuprofen.
That's all for today-think I'm pushing my limits a bit here.
Cheers,
Bec
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