I know that today is Quote of the Week Sunday, but I thought I'd skip that for the last vacation report, you'll forgive me.
When we had been to the city the first time, we went to the Tourist Centre and asked about the best way to see some landscape. Seriously, guys, I had seen more water and cows then the famous Welsh hills and sheeps, so I thought a little field trip would be nice.
We had been recommended a small picturesque village called Llantwit Major with a beach nearby that we could reach by bus line X91. It was a nice, warm day. Perfect.
Arriving at the Central Station we started looking for X91. Hm, there was a sign, but the fence around it was not very encouraging. We checked the bus schedule and found two other buses would go there ... one of which drove by us, just as we looked for the point we had to go. Ah, no problem, right? One of the others would be due soon.
Or maybe not.
We found we would have to wait an hour. We are flexible however, so we went to check if there was a train going there as well. We got our tickets, two each, and were told we had two minutes. Ruuuuun!
We wanted to, but it's not easy to run through when you try to put in the wrong ticket. "This ticket is to Cardiff, Ma'am (oh, how I hate to be called Ma'am), you are in Cardiff." Oh yeah? Did this sound familiar? Like on the airport in Amsterdam when I fished the wrong boarding card out of my purse and was told that I WAS in Amsterdam already? I hate to be in a rush, it blocks my brain cells. I wasn't the only one, but I sure felt I was marked as a tourist.
Yes, people, for those who don't know that, the system is different in Germany. We don't have to go through a turnstile.
It figures that we wouldn't have had to run after all, the train was late. But finally we sat on there, listening to a little old lady who kept telling us all that her pension check went up and interesting facts about toothpaste and when she got off the train she said: "Driver, I'm sure you are glad that you also have more quiet passengers."
Llantwit Major, last stop before Bridgend. Ok, the train station obviously wasn't the picturesque part of the village. We walked downhill. And walked. And walked some more. Ah, there! A sign directing to the Beach! The street was a little narrow. Was this really the right way? Maybe we had to walk up there where it said "Reserve"?
Have I mentioned that it was warm? Uphill, uphill and when I had almost made it, I heard the words "Nope. There's a closed gate there. That's probably why the other guys came back down." Downhill, downhill. "Let's walk on that footpath where the other people walked before." Across the fields, yes, what a good idea. I bet they had been locals, knowing exactly what they were doing with their big beach ball and the sandals on.
We walked. I got a little suspicious about all the cow pats lying around and then we saw them, a herd of huge, vicious looking cows. With a whimper I asked if we had to walk through there. I hadn't been close to lots of cows since I had been a child and I wasn't sure if I could outrun them. It was warm after all, you know, and my purse kept falling off my shoulder. And I'm a wimp around some animals, especially if they come in herds. Maybe they didn't look very vicious after all, but they still looked big.
We turned around and gave up on seeing the beach that day, so all you get is this picture that I just as well could have taken in our neighborhood. At least I'm honest about it.
Back uphill it went, taking a closer look at the beautiful little houses with names like "Rose Cottage" and finally ending up in Elaine's Tearooms where I had a delicious three cheese salad before we took the train back to Cardiff. There's always a silver lining.
Maybe we should have taken the other advice we got, to visit the beach in Barry. Oh, well.
Unfortunately I didn't feel well when we were back in town, I tend to have a problem with warm weather, so we took the rest of the day very easy with a little walk and a quite early dinner at Mermaid Quay.
And a last picture of the view from the balcony.
There is not that much to say about Sunday as we couldn't do much more than packing our stuff, having breakfast and waiting for our ride to the airport.
I took another last picture of the window in the hall.
Our flights were on time and there was only a tiny little problem.
We were back in Stuttgart in the evening. Our luggage wasn't. For those who have been following this blog for some time, this might sound familiar. Just like last year our luggage hadn't made it during check through.
Who cares. It felt good to be home and be welcomed by nagging cats, even if it just had been a short vacation.
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