Wales: Okaaaay...

Your mission, should you choose to accept it: Detect the irony.

Wales: Welsh Ways

No offense to the cities, but there is an indelible charm to Welsh villages that trumps the urban cityscape. That being the case, it only makes sense that the paper-thin roads lace-linking them would be just as picturesque. I got a little NatGeo with this one:

If it wasn't for the asphalt, this could have been Anytime.

Wales: 50 Shades of Gray

I think it really says something when a places looks better when it's rainy. While only slightly less verdant than Ireland, if the Emerald Isle has green locked up, Wales owns gray. Come what may, one does not come to Wales for balmy weather and bikini lines.  That being said, just check out some of these shots showing how well Wales does rain:

These shots here are in Swansea and Laugharne. You'd think Wales would be the richest country on the planet for all the dimes the weather is changing on: "Do I feel like raining? Ye--no. Mmmmmaybe. No. Yes. HOLY JESUS IT'S A FLASH FLOO--Oo! Sunny!"

Personally, I think it really says something of my abilities as a photographer to get the camera, set it, focus it, and take a photo while at the same time bracing the umbrella into the GALE FORCE WINDS that blow of the Irish Sea...

The funny thing is, Wales actually looks BETTER when it rains. Oh sure, the endless green grid of the sheep fields rippling over the hills is very sweeping and romantic in sunlight, but when the mists roll and the sky threatens to open up any second, the landscape takes on a primordial character, with a voice as soft as velvet and as threatening as a tornado.

These guys were overlooking the patio below full of people taking tea and krumpets. They knew were the food was.

Wales: Little Town Charm

Laugharne. The sharpies out there will know this town as the habitat of Dylan Thomas and the inspiration for the fictional town of Llareggub (the guy must have had a, um, quixotic relationship with the place; deceptively Welsh-looking, it is "bugger all" spelled backwards).

It will not take you long to figure out you are not in the busy place on the planet. But that does not mean you will be bored: the town is utterly drenched in Dylan Thomas myth--some of which is pretty rollicking. From his Writing Shed and Boathouse, to the trail immortalizing the path he took to fend off the writer's block, this is the town that fostered one of the greatest talents of the 20th Century. There has to be something to it.

Thomas wrote here, explored here, drank here (!), and finally, was buried here. But he also lived here. He experienced here. He listened here. Go to the Browns Hotel and you can see the allure. Grab a seat, get a pint, and the whole room is your friend! All I had to do was speak to broadcast that I wasn't a local, but in five minutes I had a girl from Yorkshire try out her Valley Girl accent on me (to which I responded in kind; I give as good as I get) and sang along to R.E.M.'s "Man on the Moon" with a guitarist named Dogman. No wonder Thomas was into Laugharne. This place rocks!

And yes, after 39 years of raging against the dying of the light, Thomas came to rest here. Always financially stretched throughout his life, his memorial, made of wood rather than stone, rises in the field next to the ancient graves at St. Martin's church.

The more and more I heard of Dylan, the most confusing the picture got. But if I met the man, as corny as it would be to hear and say, I could tell the man, yeah, I get why you came here.

Wales: A Writer's Cauldron

If you are even remotely stalking seeking the spirit of Dylan Thomas, to not go to village of Laugharne ("Larn") is like going to Mars and not getting out of the rocket. Certainly, the man had his formative years in Swansea, but it was in Laugharne that he, in the legendary Writing Shed, applied all those lessons into the works that be his hallmarks.

And boy, you could drive right by this place--it is small. But for writers, it is perfect. It is the kind you can come to, sit down, and think. The hills are ancient, the River Taf rolls on heedless of the tiny lives along its banks--it was there first, after all. And all along the ridgetops are the spirits of barbarian kings singing savage verses to winds and fairy fire.

Romantic, eh? Surely Thomas thought so. And while the Normans and Celts before them would claim to have put Laugharne on the map, it was Thomas that waved the magic wand. So much so that it is widely thought that the town featured in Under Milk Wood, Llareggub, served as the prototype for the play's setting. And why not? St. John's Head, a large promontory pushing into the tidal flats of the Taf, is Milk Wood, standing a silent sentinel to the town under it. 

And it struck me that all those plays and passions of Thomas were done in this landscape. Standing in his shed (which, unpoetically, he set up shop in to get away from the ruckus of his kids), I saw the land he saw, the tide he watched pulse and ebb. Much of the shed is now a reproduction; even the shed itself had to be replaced as it was rotted through. But the landscape beyond, what Thomas contemplated when the muse capriciously skipped away, is as constant as the stars above and the bedrock beneath.

What did he see? I wonder. Or rather, how did he see it?

Wales: 'Cuz a guy's gotta sleep

So where does one stay in Swansea? Let's face it, it's not exactly up there with London or Bangkok (sad, really) Well, here's where I'm staying:

Introducing the Morgans Hotel, a perfect example of a city reincarnating its heritage. Swansea was, and still is, a busy port. In fact, at one point, it was the metal-smelting capital of the world, and only the awesome might of Pittsburgh had the muster to knock Swansea down a peg. But how does that relate to the Morgans?

The Morgans is housed in the old Port Authority. Tons of cargo came in and out of the Swansea port--remember, London, for all her maritime might, is on the other side of the country. And this makes the hotel PERFECT for exploring downtown Swansea, because it is positioned halfway between the port and the downtown. The city is actually pretty modest in size, which is actually a good thing since you can find eveything--beach, clubs, pubs, the City Museum, the Dylan Thomas Center, the remains of Swansea Castle--all within walking distance from the hotel.

More on Swansea to come!

Wales: That handsome Jenkins boy.

Pontrhydyfen was the stop today, and all you Hollywood fans should be giggling yourself into a puddle as this was the birthplace of one Richard Jenkins, aka Richard Burton. Did you know he was #12 of 13 kids? He must have shot out like a bullet.

Burton, who was proudly Welsh and could even speak it, was taken in as a legal ward by his teacher, Philip Burton, and it was from him that the actor took his stage name. And it seems that Burton is the latest in a long line of mortals to enter into the Welsh pantheon of heros. Darkly passionate, and widely known in his home territory to be more sexually fluid than Hollywood or Liz Taylor would have us believe, Burton, who died at 58 back in 1984, now has a whole trail dedicated to him, and the house and town where he grew up have shrines dedicated to his memory. 

Unlike Dylan Thomas, the ascendant just before Burton, the actor seems to be almost universally liked in Wales. Certainly he never forgot where he came from, and he bought his parents and all 12 siblings houses. Originally living in the valley of the Afan River, Burton elevated his stock--literally--to the hills above the river. It's where the posh-posse lived. A niece, Sian, still lives there, in fact, and is an actress herself. 

And the family plot remains as well, although Richard rests elsewhere. Across the Afan Valley--and it is a narrow one--is Jerusalem Church. Now in a pitiful state of disrepair, the church stands empty, and the graveyard is practically overgrown. The local challenge is to find the original Jenkins graves, but the site is so wild, and so packed with tombs, moving around is a challenge. I didn't want to step on anybody. Seemed rude.

Nearby is a pub called the Colliers, and not only is the food good, the chef IS AWESOME. Check this dude out:

Best. Beard. Ever. 

I'm outclassed. I admit it!