Monday 4/26

On to the third day:

As was to be routine, we got up around 8 to eat breakfast together before going to a bunch of places. Martha and Jack worked together to make a pot of porridge, which was okay, and then we had to wait for the gas man to finish inspecting their appliances before leaving.

Our sites for the day included:

St. David's Cathedral, a beautiful cathedral a short drive away from Fishguard, which is slowly falling apart. The pillars inside are leaning outwards, and the floor has such a large slope that the two ends of the building are something like 14 feet different in height. I can't remember the exact number, but it's really quite noticeable. The visit to this cathedral was much better than Notre Dame, since we weren't interrupting anything and had a chance to explore and find the tomb of Giraldus Cambrensis and other famous people/saints.
Next to the cathedral was the old ruins, which are now called the Priest's Temple or something silly.
After that, we drove across the town to St. Non's church, located in a retreat where three nuns live permanently. One of them was Irish and stopped by to speak to us. St. Non was St. David's mother, and next to the church was the field in which he was supposedly born. Right now only the cows see it daily, but hey, it's still cool. There was also a holy well nearby.
The spot where St. David was born. Right in the corner. Must have been uncomfortable--well, more than usual.
After a morning of exploring those sites, we stopped for lunch at a pub, where Martha and Jack discovered my ketchup obsession, and then moved on to the other side of the peninsula, where we visited the church in Nevern. Outside of the church is this very famous high cross, which is twice as tall as I am.

The churchyard is a classic gothic scene--I would NOT want to hang out around here after dark. Jack was taking a nap in the car, so I was glad it was daylight since Martha and I could easily be beaten by some shadows.
Anyway, the best best best part of the church was the stone in one of the windowsills...which had ogham writing on it!!! Ogham, as in what I had written a final essay on three days before, as in the earliest form of native Irish writing, as in it originated in this part of Wales, as in awesome! It was so cool to actually see some.

Again, creepy churchyard with its bleeding yews. Lovely.
Side note here: the roads in England and Wales scared the scheisse out of me. They are one-lane roads with occasional spots for two cars, which would be okay, except they completely blind you by building huge dykes and covering them with hedges. Every drive is just a prayer that you won't die. I can't imagine how drunks manage--just like I'm amazed that more people don't die over here in alcohol-saturated Ireland, where the roads are twisty and topsy-turvy and hard to manage even when you're sober. I don't get it. I'm looking forward to some nice, boring, two-lane country roads when I get home.
Anyway, to move on from my rant, the last site we visited that day was Pentre Ifae, a very early Welsh burial tomb. I believe it's Megalithic, but please don't quote me. It looks so spectacular, especially when you're up close and personal, standing underneath this huge rock which is somehow supported by the tips of a couple other ones. All over the area are other big rocks which must have been a part of it once, but which are now strewn in the path of sheep. It's beautiful. I never got to Stonehenge or Avebury, so this was the closest thing to them.
A lovely picture of Martha and Jack! If you look closely, Martha is holding her dowsing rods, which she used everywhere to see what kinds of energy were around. The night before she taught me how to use them, so they usually worked for me at the sites we saw.
After that, everyone was tired, so we headed back to the house for a snack and an easy night in. Well, really I should say it was a typical night in. Anyway, some shots from the road.

A random cannon out front. I dunno.
Looking out over the breakwater where the ferry comes in and over the mountains on the other side. It was really cloudy this day, so the view wasn't so great.
The tiny town down in the left side is Lower Fishguard. Talk about more scary streets...
The house! It's quite cottage-like on the inside. The whole hill is filled with them--they were originally built to house ferry workers.
Once we got inside, we had a snack of peaches and ice cream, then watched some TV, then ate pizza for supper, then had more ice cream with pie for dessert. Yeah, I think it goes without saying that I definitely did not starve while I was with them. The show of the evening was Joanna Lumley's "Nile" program, which was where she searched for the origins of the Nile. It was okay, but the fun part was the bookcase filled with history and anthropology books, which I loved. I sat there and read all three days we were down there.

All in all, it was like hanging out with my grandparents--really relaxed and comfortable.