Connections

It’s been rainy and windy here across the pond. For someone who is used to the relentless sun, blistering heat, and warm nights, the cloud cover, drizzle, and cool evenings have been a welcome relief. It does tend to keep me from my wanderings, tho. Especially when I have cuddly cats and endless reruns of “Friends” to keep me company. The sixth time of watching the “Friends” episode ‘where Ross and Rachel are on a break,’ however, propelled me to make some plans – there are only so many times you can watch the same episode…over and over again. I looked at the weather outlook, found the day with the least amount of predicted rain, and planned my escape to Conwy, Wales – total travel time of about 3.5 hours each way (foot, bus, and train). My responsibility to Angie and Clint is to take care of their animal family, so I usually keep my explorations to a two-hour distance. So it was with a tinge of guilt that I planned my trip.

I got up early Monday morning to take care of the animals and walk to the train station to meet the early morning train. I figured that if I could get to Conwy pretty early, I could get back pretty early and it wouldn’t be too hard on the critters. Still feeling a bit guilty for leaving the animals for so long, I headed off. I made the early train to Manchester and then the first (and only) “express” train headed to Holyhead, Wales, stopping at only 14 towns (including Conwy) along the way. I was very fortunate that I was not the only one going to Conwy because the stop was a “will call only” stop. Which means, you had to tell the conductor you wanted off at the station, or else it would’ve blown on by. I did not know this until it could’ve been too late. Luckily, I got off at Conwy, and all was right with the world.

Saint Michael and All Angels Church

When I rambled out of the tiny little train station, I went against the group that got off as well. They went left; I went right. My goal was the castle, but since I could see the castle from almost every vantage point in town, I decided to explore the city walls instead. Conwy is a walled city with most of its 13^th-century walls, corner towers, and castle intact. I came to one of the corner towers and a beautiful old church. The church, St Michael and All Angels Church, is no longer in operation but the grounds and building are still maintained. While I was wandering, I met a lady who was also admiring the view. We got to talking and she told me that her aunt was the housekeeper for the parsonage when she was a girl and she spent many summers in her youth exploring the walls, playing castles and dragons, and just living the life full of the imagination of a child inspired by the myths and legends of early times. It was incredible to see the town as she remembered it and was very glad I went right.

After we parted ways, I made my way down past the castle to the mouth of the River Conwy and Conwy Bay. There is a thriving tourist market there complete with merchants hawking their gaudy seashell creations, crab buckets, ice cream and Hawaiian Ice, and tours of the river and bay by boat. I stopped to watch a couple and their two children happily dunking their buckets into the river and bringing them up – sometimes with glee at what had been caught, and sometimes with frustration. I found myself wondering what they were going to do with those little crabs that were no bigger than a child’s palm. Surely they weren’t going to eat them? I mean they are tourists, probably staying at a local B & B or trained in as I did. But then, if they weren’t going to eat them, what were they going to do with them? Were they going to let them die and take their sad little bodies home or would they just become fodder for the seagulls after they toss them with no more care than if they were tossing a used wrapper? I became sad for the little crabs and decided to focus my attention to a local who was talking to an older couple sitting on a bench.

The local was talking about a grey cat that was sitting behind the older gentleman. The cat was beautiful and friendly and allowed me to stroke her while I (eavesdropped) listened to the tale.

A Conwy Cat

The cat at one time belonged to an old lady who lived in a house further down the bay. The old lady had 36 cats, and each of them was loved and cared for. One day, not too long ago, the house she had been letting FOR AGES was sold, and she was evicted. Having no place to go, she had to move in with her daughter – who is not from Conwy and would not let her bring the cats with her. So the cats have been left in the town. The community care for the cats, the tourists feed them, and they’ve become quite a controversy. Some feel the cats should be collected and turned into the humane society for rehoming. Some feel they should be collected, fixed, and returned to the community because they are a part of Conwy. And others, not being cat people, think they should be “humanely” euthanized because they are a nuisance. The local was of the mind that they should be collected and rehomed. The couple on the bench were ambivalent. And me, while I was petting this beautiful, friendly cat, was trying to figure out how to get it home.

Smallest house in Great Britain

I gave my farewells to the feline and moved on to a little shop run by the Royal Life Saving Society (RLSS). The shop was a typical small shop geared to tourists, but everything sold went back to their organization that exists to prevent water mishaps through education, and then rescue those who become victim to water mishaps (human and non-human). After hearing the tale of rescuing a family’s cat and dog, I had to buy something. As I was browsing, the shopkeeper and I started chatting. We talked about the characters she’s seen, the people she’s met, and the travels I take. After about 30 minutes of talking with this entertaining soul, I settled on some Christmas cards and said goodbye. It was the most wonderful conversation, and it propelled me along my way.

Conwy Castle

I headed toward the castle thinking I had plenty of time to go in and look around before I had to walk to Cyffordd Llandudno Junction (across the river) to catch my train back to Grasscroft. As I looked at my phone for the time, I realized I spent more time talking and observing than actually hitting the one thing that drew me to Conwy in the first place – the castle. I acknowledged the time and turned my feet to the station. But I wasn’t disappointed in not going in to walk around the castle. The connection I made with people, the observations I made, and the stories I heard were well worth the travel drudgery. The human connection and feline interaction were well worth my time and even now fill me with happy bubbles.

This is why I travel. Not to see. But to feel. To connect. To belong. If only for a moment.