Conwy, Wales

If you ever find yourself in the UK with a weekend on your hands, I cannot recommend spending it in Conwy highly enough. You will not regret it; I certainly don't.

Conwy is a small city on the northernmost tip of the Welsh coast. From Oxford by train, it's around a 4 hour trip. Using the British rail system was a bit of a novelty. It's somewhat like a combination of air travel and riding the subway. Friday morning the five of us just walked up to the ticket counter and bought a round trip ticket from Oxford to Conwy for 70L. And that's all the tickets say: Oxford to Conwy. How you get from one to the other is somewhat up to you. Our outward bound trip involved riding from Oxford to Stafford, changing trains, from there to Crewe, another change, then from Crewe to Llandudno Junction. The inside of the trains look essentially like the inside of an airplane, but with the seats on one side of the aisle facing the rear (after some debate, we concluded this was to ensure that at least somebody got to face the front no matter which way the coach was hooked up).

Since there is no definite beginning or end to the train's trip, the reserved seats change after every station. We didn't have any reserved seats, putting us at the mercy of strangers who would unpredictable board the train, tap one of us on the shoulder, and politely inform us "Sorry, but I believe you're in my seat". The most desirable seats are the ones that face another row with a table in between them, as this allows more space and easier conversation with your fellow travelers. It is difficult to nap for any significant amount of time, since we changed trains every 45 minutes or so and the time on the train is punctuated by the rounds of the conductor circulating the train and examining tickets. These individuals have a remarkable knowledge of the railway timetables (The first time I surrendered my ticket to one he glanced at it and commanded from memory, "You'll want to get off at Stafford, take the 10:06 Liverpool L-Street to Crewe, and catch the 11:03 cross country to Conwy" or something like that). They also don't take any grief off of anyone and will not hesitate to throw the unfortunate ticketless travelers off the train, as a pair of dismayed Irishmen discovered at Wolverhampton. On his rounds the conductor discovered the pair had no tickets. One of them rather lamely explained that he had bought tickets but didn't have them on him. The conductor narrowed his eyes and walked off, prompting the ticketless guy to smugly grin at his friend, thinking he had talked his way into a free trip. The smug look quickly disappeared at the next station when the conductor reappeared with a pair of helmeted transit police, pointed, and screamed "J'accuse!" in a shrill voice before none-to-gently propelling the shell-shocked freeloaders onto the platform. Reminds me of the scene in "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade", where Jones throws a Nazi out of a blimp then explains to a surprised bystander "No Ticket". Needless to say, after witnessing this I resolved to always keep my ticket close.

Because the train from Crewe was, as the conductor explained to us, too long to stop in Conwy's runty station we would have to disembark at Llandudno Junction, which in addition to being hard to pronounce is about a mile outside town across a river. We were travelling light so the walk was not a big deal (actually it was a good way to enter Conwy, as there were great views of the town and it castle from across the bay) but could be regarded as one of those little unplanned minor mishaps that make travel so exciting. We experienced the second such mishap upon calling our Bed and Breakfast for direction from the station. On the advice of a housemate, we had planned to stay at the Castleview B&B. Somebody (Don't worry Elisabeth, I won't say who) Googled the B&B, saw it was full, saw an advertisement for a B&B half a mile from the original place, called and made a reservation, which she was only able to do after assuring the proprietor that we were all "reasonably well behaved". After getting off the train, we called for directions from the Llandudno Junction station, which surprised the guy at the B&B somewhat because Llandudno Junction is in Wales and he was in Northumberland, 230 miles away. Apparently, there is more than one "Castleview B&B" in this well becastled nation. Who knew? Quickly consulting our trusty Rick Steves Travel Guidebook, we found another B&B which, we were assured, was actually in Conwy.

Getting a room was a surprisingly informal operation. We never needed to sign anything and were able to pay in cash. The listed number connected us with the owner of the Bryn Derwen B&B, who suggested we meet him outside a downtown pub so he could show us where the hotel was. The voice at the end of the phone belonged to Andrew, a tall and friendly Englishman who owned the place with his wife Jill and their daughter Sophie. The rooms weren't especially large, but they were cosy and the beds were amazing. Having deposited our belongings in our rooms, the five of us set out for the town's most obvious attraction: Castle Conwy.

As part of his plan to tighten his control over newly conquered Wales, Edward I built a new castle and fortified town at Conwy in 1283. The castle sits on a rocky outcrop on the coast and commands a narrow point in the nearby river. Because the castle and town had easily defended access to the sea and the Welsh had no navy to speak of, the town could hypothetically hold out indefinitely under siege. Personally, I cannot think of a structure I would enjoy attacking with a ladder and sword less. The castle wasn't besieged until the English civil war in the 1640s, when the widespread use of cannon had rendered it practically obsolete. The attackers didn't seem to do much damage, since the stonework is all remarkably intact (all of the timber and metal was removed in 1665). Even though it's just a stone shell, the castle was a great deal of fun to tour. The best part was climbing the circular stairs up to the top of the watchtowers and looking out over the bay, town, and valley while trying to imagine what it was like to be on the lookout for a rebellious Welsh army 700 years ago. Pretty cool stuff. The awesomeness of the castle also reinforced my suspicion that it is indeed good to be the King.

Having realized how long this post already is and how much work I have to do before going to bed, I'm going to finish my account of the trip tomorrow. Until then, enjoy the pictures by clicking on here or on the "Photos" link at right.