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A little stop in a cute little city. As Mark observed, with a population under 2,000 St. David’s is the smallest city in the UK. So why is it classified as a city if it’s so small? Back in the 6th century a local boy made good – later St. David, patron saint of Wales – became bishop of the diocese and moved his residence to his home town, then known as Meneva (or some Welsh variation of that spelling). As the English state developed, any seat of a bishop was automatically a city, so St. David’s, as the town became known, was a city. In the Victorian era the British government stripped St. David’s of the municipal designation but in the 1980s Queen Elizabeth gave it back to them and even came here to present some documentation herself.

With all that said, it’s really a small place with not a lot going on. The current Cathedral, originally built in the 12th century, has been renovated a number of times but retains its impressive medieval feel. Our hotel was lovely, a remote offshoot of a more central hotel, maybe a 15-minute walk from town but definitely out in the country.

What to do in a tiny city for two days? A little walking around, including a nice three-and-a-half-mile hike Mark figured out around a little peninsula outside of town. The starting point for the hike was a surprisingly nice beach on what’s known as St. George’s Channel between Wales and Ireland. By the time we finished the hike the weather had turned really nice – we haven’t seen sunshine like that in weeks – and the beach was pretty crowded. Imagine living in Wales and on a Sunday in August the weather turns sunny with temperatures in the mid-60s: believe me, everyone wanted to be outside.

For me, I would have considered going back to the hotel for my swimsuit but near the end of the hike I slammed a toe into a rock and didn’t want to do anything for a while. No damage, just painful for a day or two. So instead I sat on a lawn chair in our private back yard and read. Not a bad substitute at all!

And of course meals. One good lunch at a nice tapas place that sadly was closed the next day. Then on our second evening we had reservations at the one nice restaurant in town besides the hotel associated with our little place. We get there at the appointed hour and … it’s closed. There’s a little handwritten sign on the door that due to “unforeseen circumstances” they need to close for a couple days. On a Sunday night when other things close that could be a problem but right next to it was a nice-looking Indian place so, fine, we’ll go there. Perhaps the worst Indian food we’ve ever had, certainly the worst in a long time. Sad!

Oh well, on to Cardiff, our last stop in Wales.

From North Wales we traveled southwest to the pretty seaside resort town of Aberystwyth. Our two-day visit was pleasant, though it’s hard to imagine a real beach vacation in a place where the high temperatures in August barely broke 60 F. Toss in a lot of cloudiness and wind and the prospects are bleak.

And yet there were handfuls of people here and there acting like it was just another day at the beach. A few bold souls would venture into the grey and cold-looking water. A few kids were dutifully shoveling sand, though they generally wore more layers than what normally constitutes beach attire. I couldn’t help wondering whether these people had any idea what a beach in Mexico or Thailand is like!

Now Jim is not one to be deterred by unreasonably cold water temperatures, and he wanted to at least take a quick swim in Welsh waters. When he returned from his “swim” I was only mildly surprised to learn that the rocky bottom and rough water surfaces were just too off-putting. Maybe he’ll try again at another stop.

We enjoyed the simple pleasures here of strolling through town, climbing Constitution Hill for views up and down the coast, and staying at a charming and super friendly little hotel on the waterfront. Aber (as the locals call it) is not a foodie mecca, though we did manage to find a super cool tapas place and a fun little rum bar. It was a nice stop for a couple days, and now we are headed to an even smaller and more remote stop. We’ll travel next to the southwestern corner of Wales to stay in St Davids, which holds the distinction as the smallest city in the United Kingdom.

Here we are in North Wales, land of 13th century castles and Snowdonia National Park. Like Scotland was a couple weeks ago, Wales is new for me – never been here before and not quite sure what to expect. Certainly the language is unique; I’ve never seen so many doubled and consecutive consonants in my life.

To get here from Liverpool, though, and more importantly to get around for the next few stops, we’ve needed to rent a car again. We just find these narrow, winding roads with rushing oncoming traffic – all coming at you on the wrong side of the road! – stressful. It’s probably worth it, though, to see parts of the world that are both beautiful and unique.

Here in North Wales in particular it’s all about the castles. Back in the late 13th century, after King Edward I had subdued Wales previously, the locals erupted again and this time he came down hard: wiped out the leadership of the rebellion and built massive castles, a Ring of Iron as it was known. Amusingly, his master architect overseeing the construction was one James of St. George, whom he’d met in France years earlier when going on Crusade. Nice name – you read about him a lot in medieval history.

So one day we hired a driver to take us around to three of the castles, Harlech, Conwy, and Caernarfon, the latter considered the jewel in the crown. While the first two were both started and finished in the 1280s, construction of Caernarfon took much longer as it was far larger and included building a town and town walls at the same time. It was pretty amazing to imagine the resources and sheer human labor necessary to build these castles all at the same time.

Besides touring the castles, driving around North Wales introduces you to Snowdonia National Park, the largest national park in Wales and the third created in all of the UK. Snowdonia includes Snowdon, the highest peak in Britain, along with 14 other mountains over 3,000 feet. The Rockies or Alps it is not, but driving around them is still pleasant.

Or at least as pleasant as being in a car can be. The fact is that even with a driver doing the work I just don’t like being in a car all or most of the day. Now, I genuinely wanted to see the castles; I mean, how often do you get to tour 750-year-old buildings constructed by James of St. George? And riding around Snowdonia was a bonus. I’m not dying to do another all-day car tour though!

Another key reason for being here in North Wales was to stay at Palé Hall, another of those grand 19th century country homes converted to a hotel that gets stunning reviews. Beautiful architecture, glorious grounds, great service (most of the time…) – Palé Hall has it all. And set outside the tiny village of Llandderfel, there are lots of tiny country roads to explore on morning and afternoon walks. Beautiful countryside, great views, and just so quiet.

Then of course there is the food. We ate many of our meals at Palé Hall and they were mostly good. One night we ate in their main dining room, a six-course tasting menu that was fantastic. The restaurant has a Michelin Green Star, recognizing restaurants that excel in sustainable gastronomy. So all very local and very good. Another night we ate at their sister restaurant, a pub-like space in an inn just outside the main property. We have been wildly unimpressed with the quality of pub food so far, but this was a real exception – great food in a relaxed atmosphere.

And then there was lunch during our day trip around the castles. The timing was such that at mid-day we were in Caernarfon, the largest town we would be going through so it made sense to have lunch there. Our driver/tour guide had two suggestions, one a pub and the other even less substantial so we chose the pub. The food wasn’t awful but it certainly wasn’t good. And the name. I couldn’t even repeat it when we were talking to him about it; I would just refer to it as the pub. It’s name, you see, is the Black Boy. Seriously. Sigh…