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.
I am back ‘home’ in Portland but, still my soul is floating around the earth. We have returned to our hometown and are putting down roots again….phone contracts, bought a used car, set up utility accounts and kids are now at Montessori but, we aren’t done with this journey or the next steps.
Oslo and they both offered advice, homes, meals and warm welcomes to our travel queries.
My Norwegian friends offered to do a little genealogy research for us and when she presented us with an 80 page document before we arrived of all she found we were blown away.
She had recently opted to not run for reelection to the Norwegian parliament but, gave us intimate access to the Parliament and a tour I am sure you could not ‘book’ anywhere else.
All while high school equivalent students were running around the city in their flight suits and tricked out buses celebrating their transition to adulthood. Its called Russebuss and it is a fascinating tradition.
So, anyway…..family history found us driving (well Kelvin driving, really. We just all cheered him on from the back seat) for what seemed like 100s of miles and hours and hours.
SINGLE TIME!.
You will love it if you go and do get out of Oslo, lovely city yet, there is so much to this enormous by European standards country.
Yesterday, we found the giant bouncy pillow and it rocked! Also, made quick friends with a local lad on the zip-line. These are playground toys that would likely be inaccessible in the US due to our litigious culture. It was fun to watch the boys bouncing all over the place.
I have never seen ourselves as people who home school their kids. We have always sought out the appropriate education philosophy for our boys and embraced our school as they plan for our kids.
d to research and seek out a way to investigate their question. The steps to find out the answer to their question has the child find out the place where one would learn about that interest.
I realize how much we depend on our schools to keep our kids ‘on track’ for their learning. It is their professional job! I am not a professionally trained teacher. Kelvin and I both have skills to share, like any parents but, the responsibility of being in charge of a year’s worth of eduction feels very daunting to me.
We already started a practice of writing in a small journal at the dinner table after our meal where we each write a little bit about the day. Oakley will write one sentence and Canyon a couple. Kelvin and I also write and we all check each other’s work. We generally write down what we are grateful for that day. Noting small, notable things that happened that day.