Travel….I dream about it nearly all the time. I think of places I’ve been and reminisce and then the places I want go and plan imaginary itineraries.
On our trip around the world, we accomplished a lot of ‘bucket list’ goals and we went to some new to us places that have found their way into our ‘must return’ list.
And so we journey to Wales…Not that I had didn’t want to go before. It just wasn’t in the cards. When we embraced on our journey I did a shout out to all my friends overseas that I had worked, studied or connected with and in this instance Duncan opened up his heart, home and called us to Wales.
Duncan I worked in London years ago for a liberal arts college study abroad program called Beaver College – Center of Education Abroad (now called Arcadia University ) when we both lived the dream of helping other college age students study abroad. I would convince, guide and prepare them Stateside and Duncan and his colleagues would welcome, orient and advise them.
I worked with universities in Scotland, England and our program in Greece and had the distinct pleasure of accompanying 120 20 year olds a couple times a year to Great Britain. That was a plane ride to remember. Talk about a great job!
Anyway, flash forward nearly twenty years and Duncan had moved to Wales with his three girls and is now working as an outdoor educator and guide. He works as a photographer and we popped by one of his exhibits to admire his clean, sharp images.
We traveled to Holyhead on the ferry from Ireland on a rough but, sunny sea day. We wandered through the port with a hen party (for Americans – read Bachelorette) and a group bent on attending a local football match. We had a full Irish breakfast onboard and excitedly landed in Great Britain.
Duncan piled us and our bags in his car and drove us through this green, hilly wonderland of Wales to his home in Llanberis, in Gwynedd, at the foot of Snowdon the highest peak in Wales. 
After spending time in the smallest dorm room of our trip in Dublin. His picturesque village was a welcome hobbity wonder. Duncan’s daughters ages 17, 15 and 12 were all busting with character and energy as we marched through fields with sheep to see the history of slate. 
They all spoke Welsh which is the language all schools are taught in. It’s a lilting hard to categorize language that was intriguing to listen to. Duncan told us how they all had moved from London six years previously and had no Welsh to speak of.
The school district would then arrange for immersive lessons for the older girls, picking them up and submersing them in the language for weeks before eventually integrating them into the schools. 
Their youngest was about six at the time of the move and just got plunked down in the school and where she immediately was taught in Welsh. Such is the love and commitment of the Welsh to keep their language alive and all encompassing the government has made this a priority. 
Now his girls can have complete conversations around him and their mom and the non native Welsh speaking grown ups don’t always know what they are talking about. It’s like they have a secret power or identity. Adults who move here have to pay for their own lessons. Welsh is strong with the younger generation! 
This village was the home to the lake Llyn Padarn which has the folk lore of being the lake that the Lady was in. This being the King Arthur lore. You can even take a try to pull the giant sword out of the stone on it’s banks. Snowdonia National Park entrance was a walk from his flat.
Also, nearby is the National Slate Museum and before you crinkle your eyes at the thoughts of seeing a museum of stone hold your thought. This museum was interactive and educational along with giving one the perspective of how hard the peoples’ lives were when this was the ‘good job’ in the 1800s and 1900s. The 
fifty-foot waterwheel was worth a view itself.
Children would work for 10-15 hours a day starting around the age of 10 and then when they got old enough they would be able to get paid even. The health concerns be damned these hardy quarrymen were told that the slate dust would make their lungs stronger. Spoiler. It didn’t. 
And the quarry was finally shuttered in 1969 shortly after the Prince of Wales visited. The old hospital can be visited and the medical method reviewed might make you rethink your current health regime. 
We would wander around the village which bustles with folks coming or going into the natural areas nearby. Hiking, climbing, mountaineering, walking and even scuba diving in 90 foot, two mile long lake. We swam in these brisk waters and felt refreshed.
One day we piled in the car to go to Nyfyn, a village located in what looks like the pointing hand of Wales in the NW for a festival where his oldest daughter Izzy was performing in a drumming band.
We got to witness a village fair where kids get dressed up in their finest dresses and a small parade will worm it’s way through the streets to gathering of food, chatting and a bouncy castle. The drumming was excellent.
Driving back the roads were so narrow, Kelvin joked about doing ‘high fives’ with our mirrors on the passing cars. It was beautiful, winding and honestly a delightful dream. 
More than once we explored Dolbadarn Castle which was built by Llywelyn the Great around seven hundred years ago in around 1220s. The castle is mostly in ghostly, beautiful ruins that you can freely wander and climb around. Duncan taught my kids how to climb through the old ‘poop’ chutes of old. Ah, now that is a good friend!
Oakley was smitten with Duncan and his easy ways and comfortable nature. Duncan give us shelter and friendship for the week we were there. It was a warm and welcoming to Great Britain.
We decided that Wales has one of the coolest flags on the planet and this little country packs has a seductive allure that makes me want to return and discover more beautiful Welsh villages. We were hooked and we fell in love with Wales and so grateful to have such a warm, welcoming landing in Britain. 
After a week we packed up to Bangor to go North to our next house sit. Onward to Scotland but, before a big ‘diolch’ to Duncan and his family.
it and for leprechauns or maybe more distantly for green rolling hills.
The kitchen as a flood of pleasant travelers, school groups and individuals finding their way around the chaos to find a slice of toast and half of a banana. A single jar of Nutella was passed around like a precious gem among around 20 people. We were lucky, as we had a small shower and toilet attached to our room.
So, while our living space shrunk considerably we are now in the middle of the city. Right outside our building, just steps away from vibrant door fronts, bright stores and cobblestones.
We picnicked on the green grounds with college students and admired the near by sculptures in the warming sun. All while learning more about the momentous vote coming up for Ireland.
Later that evening we returned and there he was all set for us with loaner ukuleles and several other class members.
One a 70+ Dublin woman who’s wonderful lilt had me cocking my head so I could truly understand her. Other folks from Ireland as well as a couple of Malaysian women who were currently living in Ireland.
The group was smallish (about 25) which made it more welcome for the shorter members of our group (read – crowd adverse Oakley). We would wholeheartedly recommend going to this museum to have an amazing view of Dublin to color your trip.
Very powerful to walk around and see where people were actually bunkered down and fighting.
We came back to our room one evening planning our bags and next day’s plans as we would have to check out of the hostel before our ferry left the following late afternoon. We got a notification that our ferry to Wales was rescheduled due to weather for either the next morning at 8am or the next evening at 8pm. Yikes!
So, we packed up and prepped to leave in the wee hours of the morning so, we could get there by the time the ferry would sail. That meant finding a ride early on Sunday morning (6am!) to the dock. Bumping in a ride share car in the early hours of Sunday in Dublin was a very quiet and peaceful journey.
Of course, we did it! We made that ferry. Don’t you worry.
We currently live near the Portland airport and the Portland Air National Guard is based there. There are many moments throughout the day when you can hear the rumble of planes flying overhead. A deep rumble, almost as if the sky has hunger pains or feeling that there is thunder on the horizon and it’s audible for all.
From ages 19-25 I spent three years overseas. They say your prefrontal cortex, your critical thinking part of your brain, doesn’t fully form until you are 25 so, I suppose I did a lot of my first adult thinking navigating different experiences outside the US. Maybe that is why I still seek it. It is hardwired in my brain.
In any case, I am reliving my adventures here as they soothe my soul and inspire me to plan more and now, with the added intention of exposing my kids to their future adventures.
And so, I write to make sure I do my due diligence in documenting our adventure but, also for me to continue to feel connected to its story which is many people’s story. In our iteration or someone else’s. This is our story. Thank you for reading. It helps me keep it alive.
We had reached day 90 (with a lot of planning and foresight mind you) by landing in Ireland. Ireland, along with the all of the UK does not take part in the Schengen Area. That meant for us, that our travel clock started over by the tracking of Irish and later, British authorities. They generally allow a six month visa.
This doesn’t mean they don’t also ask a lot of questions at the Irish border. We flew in from Oslo with Kelvin’s parents. We shuffled and waited in a library-quiet big hall as they inspected our passports while we gazed at the new signs naming everything in English and ‘the Irish’ which we outsiders might know more as Gaelic.
We rented an Airbnb in Clontarf, a friendly suburb north of Dublin City Center from where we could easily catch the bus into the city. Our time in Dublin was timed with the Royal Wedding of Harry and Meghan.
I, being a bit of a romantic royal watcher loved the idea of watching my first royal wedding in the same time zone as it was happening. Having drug myself out of bed in the middle of the night for these royal affairs starting when I was 11 years old in 1981 to watch Diana and Charles marry on a grainy, definitely not a High Definition screen TV back in Idaho.
I told this excitedly to our Irish hosts as they settled us into our place. He responded with a wit and tone that slightly insults and grounds me in a way that various Celtic tones can.
We had two versions of our trip in Dublin. The first half with our in-laws and the second, the Gurr Original Four
It was beautiful fully furnished and delightful to wander around it and had it’s share of ghost stories told by the animated guides a long the way. The northern area outside Dublin is really quite lovely to see and the seaside makes for nice views and wanders along as you see the tide change the view dramatically.
The vote was establishing access to abortion services for citizens for the first time ever. Information showed that tens of thousands would travel to Great Britain every year to be able to make this medical choice.
In the meantime, hello again and get ready for more posts to come that introduce you too some amazing folks who helped shape the last chapters of this round the world trip and let you know this family is not done moving around outside of our comfort zone and see new things and learn more about others and, in turn, about ourselves.
So, thanks again for reading and stay tuned!
Norway is a beautiful country…deep blue fjords, mountains stretching up to the clouds, roads that wind through green and pleasant landscapes. One thinks of the Vikings and the ancient history of the Norge folks and their forays out beyond their borders to other lands.
The older kids end their Russe Busse at 11am when the parades start (see previous blog). The parades march around the neighborhoods and town and city centers all over the county.
Oakley was particularly excited and was sure that the King had waved directly to him as the entire royal family came out on the balcony.
After the royal courtyard experience and watching over 100,000 people proudly milling around we went for a luncheon at our friends Brita and Eva’s house. They had been preparing for this meal for a week.
A true smorgasbord of delights as well as a lazy afternoon of snacking, wine sipping and light napping before we found our way back to Marianne and Tore’s house on public transport packed with others finding their way around in their nice dress as sated smiles. It was a sleepy, peaceful commute home.
This includes celebrations of street fairs, music, food and drink but, it also has what could possibly be the worlds largest swap market/yard sale.
new house sitting assignment in La Trappe. It was daylight savings time and our host graciously picked us up at the nearest bus station a 50 minute drive away from their farm and at 5:30 (really 4:30!) in the morning.
On this trip, we try to be as economical as possible while we move around the globe. That means trying to find the cheapest way across a country. The bus to SW France felt like a red-eye flight but, we recovered soon enough.
I was completely mesmerized by the convenience, cleverness and cheekiness of vending machines in the French countryside that sold baguette. It was funny, as sometimes you might find competing companies with machines within several hundred yards of each other but, then none for many, many miles.
In all our travels around the world, France was the place lest likely to find someone who spoke English. Or was at least willing to speak English with us. We would ask (in French) if they spoke English and they all, every single one, said ‘no’. They could a little but, didn’t want to be thought of as having a good command of the language or so we think.
three weeks with just the four of us for company. We really enjoyed our hosts (English retirees) when they returned.
goodness for Google Translate!
activities outside of those official time frames. Too bad!!
Paris is a beautiful city and what the world mostly thinks of when one thinks of France, however, most resident people we met have either never been there or have only been once or twice. There are many rich and thriving cultural experiences outside of the capital.
chickens, sneaky cats and a lovable dog named Zara in a 200-year-old farm-house.
We arrived in Brussels on a blustery March day after a daylong journey from Hamburg, Germany via Koln. It is delightful to experience the German precision timing of the trains complete with markings to let you know exactly where you need to get on your train compartment.
Our continuing world schooling agenda was punctuated by a visit to the 
We had been doing this for awhile. Learning please, thank you and the first 10 numbers whenever possible. In Belgium, my effort stalled when we met French speakers as my French is very, very, very, very weak but, folks were very accommodating to my Dutch.
Ahhh, it was delightful. The sampled frites, organic markets, gorgeous chocolate and sumptuous coffees not to mention the beers. Connecting with long time friends and hopefully, creating some connections for our kids in making friends that I hope will last their life times. That is part of the purpose of this trip.
The farm was the home to a couple who taught us a lot about Danish Hygge. One who worked part-time as a butcher and the other a foot and physical therapy (not to be mixed!). 
Their farm-house was nearly 140 years old, had two floors and easily six bedrooms. Wonderous views from each direction through windows and skylights showed us the ever-changing sky.
dozen chickens including five roosters, three of which became dinner…more on that later. 
After months of being in tropical weather and convinced we would not have a ‘regular’ winter we were treated to several winter storms, snow flurries and downright blizzards. We were overjoyed to make snowmen, slide on some ice and have snowball fights. I was more an observer but, we all very much enjoyed it.
We consumed cup after cup of coffee or tea several times a day and often pared them with Danish baked goods found in neighboring villages. We had farm fresh eggs (up to 12 a day!) as well as dark, thick bread that after toasted only needed a smear of butter to become a slice of heaven.
We had been away from a fully supplied kitchen and we relished in having the ability to make breakfast, lunch and dinner on site, warm ourselves by the fireside while wearing the handmade wooly socks made by our host. Can you say Hygge? Ib and Ann offered up all their coats, boots, gloves, hats, scarves (even a Gryffindor one much to Oakley’s delight) and overalls as well as their car to supply us with the tools to journey around the property and the Island of Fyn.
Our experience with the Danes as a people was also warming. They won’t walk up to you to introduce themselves in grocery store, however, once introduced they proved to be some of the warmest, friendliest people I’ve ever met.
The people, the landscape, the resources and the kindness.
I read once that you shouldn’t go to the hardest place of travel at the end of your journey because you’ll be too tired. Well, we didn’t know how tired we had become.
There are also beggars, ogglers and whatever you-havers. It can be pretty intense, especially if you are just over four feet tall and don’t look like a local.
consistency and stability.
chickens, cows, roadside fires and potholes. An adventure in the journey.
We rode an overnight bus to Sihanoukville to stay in a place run by Russian women who have picked up and started over in Cambodia. It was clean and comfortable but, there was the undercurrent of the sex trade there. Women around for the ‘weekend girlfriend experience’ with Chinese and Indian businessmen.
and it was a bit depressing. These men were on a business trip having the ‘bonus’ of the company of local women. It is hard to wrestle with as I can only imagine this transaction might benefit their family but, it was hard to blithely witness.
The Cambodian coast is full of people trying to make a living. Wanting to fulfill your every need. Do you need your nails trimmed? Do you need your legs shaved? Do you need a snack? Do you need a drink? Do you need a new wrap for the sun? Any of these issues or perhaps something you had no idea you were in need of. It is hard to say no but, also hard if you say yes as all others will think you are game for trade.
While waiting for our boat we saw the most basic toilet and an ice man the likes of Hans from Frozen loading ice blocks for the food establishments tourists would frequent. On our island that has no roads only scooters, wagons or good ol’ elbow grease carry your bags, supplies and goods.
Our experience was on the Island of Koh Rong. We stayed in a bungalow on a beach. You could walk to a nearby village but, the beaches were cleanest at our place where locals would comb the sand twice a day to pick up stray litter that washed ashore. I became even more aware of how important it is to recycle in our everyday life as plastics showed up on the hour. It is hard to imagine what an impact we might have on the environment when you are picking through plastic pieces while walking into the water.
Small sparks of light explode around your fingers and they comb through the warm water. It is magic. It is mind-blowing. Activation of phosphorus plankton is the scientific explanation but, I still call it magic. Because the secondary light is so minimal it is stunning. This close to the equator the sun sets so quickly too. You are in darkness in less time than it takes to drain a local can of beer.
The rest of the days on the island were restful yet, imprinted with the awareness that so many locals nearby were living on so little. It is an odd equation. Do you help by being a tourist?
and comfort. I had a topsy belly for many a day and it wasn’t until our trip around to Western Europe that I settled again.
I am incredibly grateful for this amazing experience. I am so curious to see what our boys will recall from these colorful, intense, filled days and nights.
education of our kids. I was really, really concerned that we would mess them up or get them really behind. I’ve expressed this on this blog and the sentiment takes up entirely too much space in my head.
Then add in the schooling and it is a whole new role. Yes, we have been teaching them since birth but, the structured approach of making sure the boys are ‘on track’ has been an interesting one.
With Kelvin and I, it doesn’t always work out as we are the only adults around to care for the kids but, that it is another post altogether.
Oakley’ Stats for 2017
