UK Day 5- Newport, Wales

The cab driver who took us from the train station to the flat was a very talkative and interesting man from Pakistan, and I wish I could remember his name, but he entertained us with all kinds of stories and tidbits about the area.  We arrived at the flat after 11:00 that night and were met by the owner, Jan.  She was so kind to meet us even though it was so late (many owners won't let you in if you arrive after a certain time, which is typically pretty early.)  Jan gave us info about a very cheap bus line that could take us to Manchester the next day, as that was where we needed to go to catch our train up to Aberdeen.  She also left us with homemade jam and artisan bread and tea and cereal and all kinds of other staples.  We were STARVING and as soon as she left us, the bread and jam and milk were devoured in a matter of minutes.

When we booked the flat, we expected it to be another subdivided townhouse much like the one in London.  We were shocked and excited to know that it was NOT subdivided, but that we had the entire house!  It was gorgeous and oh-so charming and dirt cheap.  If anyone out there ever passes through the idyllic town of Newport, book Jan's flat.  She is by far the best landlord we ever dealt with and was simply wonderful.

We slept in, for the first time since arriving in the UK and it was much needed sleep.  We had no plans for the day, other than a bus to catch that night.  We had cereal and/or porridge for breakfast (little did we know that would be our last meal for more than 24 hours) and then headed out on foot through the village, not having a clue about what we'd do or where we'd go.  Another great thing about Jan was that she didn't make us check out of the flat at a certain time, and let us leave our bags there as long as we needed before departing that evening.  

The weather was perfectly chilly and drizzly and I loved everything about it.  We walked a few blocks and came upon a cemetery and spent about an hour walking through, marveling at the graves that dated back two or three centuries.  There's something about cemeteries, especially after losing our son, that brings an odd sense of peace and reverence to us and it was wonderfully serene and beautiful.   

Had to snap a picture of this family with the surname "Garrett"

There was a bus stop a block away from the cemetery so we hopped on, not knowing where it would take us.  Luckily, it dropped us right in the heart of the main part of town, and it had a vastly different feel than London.  It was slow and calm and no one was in a hurry. There was a farmer's market and we got little bowls of fresh fruit to share, but quickly realized that NO ONE took credit cards.  In fact, I'm not sure that any vendors in the whole country of Wales take anything but cash, and we had no way to get cash since that bank card was lost on the first day in London.  We rationed the few pounds we had, but it was quickly running out and for "lunch", we bought a single tea cake and bag of crisps and shared it between the six of us.  Kind of pathetic, but we were working with what we had!

Newport was adorned with the most fantastic tile mosaics along the city walls.

There were castle ruins, i.e the Newport Castle, right in the middle of town.  The green moss covering it was gorgeous.

We talked to some locals and decided to take a bus and venture out to the Tredegar House.  I'd read about it, but wasn't prepared for how incredible it really was. For over five hundred years it was home to the Morgan family, later Lords Tredegar; one of the most powerful and influential families in the area. The earliest surviving part of the building dates back to the late 15th century. The house was originally built of stone and was very grand indeed, grand enough for Charles I to visit. Between 1664 and 1672, however, William Morgan decided to rebuild the house on a larger scale from red brick, at that time a rare building material in Wales.  The home became a school in the 19th century, but when the playboy and philandering son Evan inherited it, he squandered the family fortune and let the house fall into disrepair.  Luckily it was restored and is now used as a museum, but also a filming location for Victorian era shows and movies.  

There were no other guests touring it when we arrived, and we had the house to ourselves the whole time.  The volunteer tour guides were such fun to listen to, partly because of their knowledge and friendliness, but also because of their accents.  There's nothing like the Welsh accent and we could have listened to them all day.  None of us wanted to leave the estate when we finally had to, because honest to God, it was one of the most enchanting places on earth.

I personally was most fascinated by the behind the scenes part of the house; the part that made it run.  The bell hall was intriguing and all of it was educational to see and learn how a house of this caliber was run by the enormous staff.

We were running short on time because we stayed at the Tredegar House much longer than we expected.  We had to catch another city bus, race back to the flat, load up our luggage, and catch a cab out to Cardiff to be dropped at the bus station.  Unfortunately, the city bus was running far behind schedule and by the time we were all seated, we were nervous.  If we missed the bus in Cardiff, we didn't know what we'd do, but we smiled and didn't let the kids know that we were probably going to miss it. We'd called the cab driver from the night before and he was happy to take us out to Cardiff, but he too was on a schedule and he had other clients to take around that evening, so we HAD to be at the flat to meet him at a certain time.  When the city bus dropped us off, we literally ran five blocks to the flat to find him waiting outside for us.  We loaded up our bags, said goodbye to our amazing little flat, and set off for Cardiff.  

We.  Were.  STARVING.  Having not eaten anything but a little porridge and a meager bite of tea cake early in the day and after walking several miles, we were all cranky with very low blood sugar.  However, we had zero time to find a place to get anything to eat, nor did we know of a place that took a credit card, anyway.  We didn't even have a spare second to run into a service station to get a few snacks, but Cody still had a couple of plums from the farmer's market stuffed in his bag.  The kids shared those on the bus, which we made in the nick of time.

The view of Cardiff as the bus pulled away.

 The bus ride was about five hours, putting us in Manchester after midnight.  We weaved a little in and out of Wales and England, but it was honestly sad to say goodbye to Wales.  We'd only been there 24 hours, but had fallen madly in love with the country.  When we finally got to Manchester, it was bitterly cold and later than we'd originally planned.  We had a couple of tiny motel rooms booked in the bad part of town, and had to figure out a way to get there, praying that the establishment wasn't one of those that wouldn't let you in after a certain time (like 10:00 p.m.)  My cell phone was in and out of service and I couldn't call the motel to let them know we were coming an would be very late, so we crossed out fingers.

The bus dropped us off at the curb and there we were, in the middle of the ghetto, with no transportation.  Being naive Americans, we discussed on the bus that when we got to Manchester, we'd find a service station that was still open (because everything in The States is 24 hours) and use our credit card to buy something to eat...anything to eat.  But instead, any business establishment within walking distance was long closed, and we weren't about to parade through the city in the middle of the night with our children, looking for food.  Also, the few cabs that came by were not big enough to take all six of us, and no cab service was answering the phone when we were finally able to make a call.  It was getting later and later, and colder and colder.

Sparing the details, we eventually made it to out motel about 1:45 in the morning.  Hunger is a painful thing, and our bellies hurt.  There wasn't a scrap of food to be found, so we started emptying bags, hoping that someone had a snack stuffed away.  In the very bottom of Devin's bag we found five itty bitty pieces of candy (the UK equivalent of a Tootsie Roll) and we carefully tore them up and split them between the six of us.  That was dinner, and it was sad.  I got Lauren and Devin tucked into bed and Lauren pulled the covers up around herself and whimpered," It's okay, Mom.  I'm just gonna dream about mashed potatoes and gravy tonight."  Oh man, it was straight out of a movie like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when the family shares one bed and eats scraps.  We had to be up at 7:00 to catch another cab to the train station, and we prayed we'd be able to sleep while hungry.

Lauren fell asleep but Devin was too hungry to sleep, so he picked up the Bible from the nightstand and started reading.  Amazing what profound hunger will do to a kid!