Wednesday, June 26

A Welsh Breakfast

I woke up at 8am to the smooth, melodic sounds of Joey’s snores. After such a late night (for a 6 year old), I didn’t want to disturb her — ahem — peaceful slumber, so I slipped out to the terrace to find Mom in her own plush bathrobe enjoying one of the still-in-tact Diet Pepsis and soaking up the crisp seaside air. She too had left her roommate to sleep a bit longer, so we sat at one of the small bistro tables and talked a bit about the plans for the day. Apparently we didn’t talk quietly enough, because soon both Joey and Anne emerged from their respective rooms and both of them had an undeniable someone-woke-me-up-and-now-I’m-hangry air about them, so we quickly set down for breakfast. 

If you have not already surmised, we are breakfast people. This suits us as Americans, but puts us a bit out of place in Europe, where generally bread, butter, and a spot of coffee or tea passes for the most important meal of the day (but maybe I’m biased). One of Penally Abbey’s biggest selling points was that it included* hot AND continental breakfast, and after five days of scraping by on measly bad-bread breakfasts and way-too-heavy sausage sammies, I was ready for this. Breakfast was laid out in the restaurant, and because the room faced the sea in the east, beautiful morning light streamed through the large bay windows and seemed to easily fill every corner of the small dining room. Center stage was a self-serve continental breakfast outfitted with juice, water (both sparking and still, good news for our divided-by-carbonation group), pastries, bread, butter and jams, and I think a large bowl of fruit -- but I dutifully ignored that area so I can’t give you more specifics on the contents therein. After being shown to our table, we also had a hot breakfast menu of 7 or 8 selections from which to choose our main meal, the highlights being (for Joey) some American classics and (for the rest of us) a lot of smoked salmon. Anne quickly decided on the eggs benedict without the ham (“Would you like to substitute smoked salmon instead?” our waitress asked as if that was ever a question anyone in their right mind would say No to), while Mom and I opted for the scrambled eggs with smoked salmon. Joey settled on the french toast after a 4-minute existential crisis trying to decide between the french toast, pancakes, or bacon and eggs. Breakfast was all around delicious, and not just for the abundance of smoked salmon; the portions were just right and everything was cooked well - delicious and fresh. The only low point was - yes, friends - the coffee, which was so weak it closely resembled tea in its tanned color. I nearly abandoned ship and did the unthinkable by ordering a tea instead, but remembered myself (They won’t win! I won’t surrender to the tea propaganda machine!) and soldiered on. “No wonder they threw all the tea in the harbor in Boston. They probably just wanted options,” Anne grumbled as she took a sip of light brown water. 

*Let’s not get into semantics about what the room rate would have been without an “included” breakfast; I am easily swayed by food bundling pricing tricks and I’m not trying to change. 

Over breakfast, we discussed heading into the nearby port city of Tenby that morning and seeing where the day took us, with no firm agenda besides wandering and relaxing. In an exciting moment that may have perfectly indicated our lingering travel fatigue from the previous day, Anne accidentally spilled a carafe of orange juice (it had been plugged with pulp which made it awkward to pour) all over the continental table and floor, and though our gracious host and waitress rushed in for damage control as if it were they who caused the great OJ calamity, Anne still apologized profusely. When she returned to the table, she announced “I may have let out a litany of swear words,” and we joked that, perhaps more than anywhere else in the world, Brits probably welcome a good swear storm in the morning. 

Introducing Maud

Finally full of a good, hearty breakfast, we walked back to our rooms through the gardens to admire the sunny, cool day. Just as we neared the stairs, a little brown and white spaniel (a Welsh Springer Spaniel to be exact) bounded up to Joey, as if seeking her out, and dropped a flat rock at her feet. Joey’s no dog novice, so after letting out an excited “Hi!” she picked up the stone and threw it for the pup, who dutifully retrieved it and dropped it back at her feet. A second time she threw it, and the dog caught it mid-air and returned it to her -- this time with a few tippy taps to mark the excitement that this fast friendship was clearly born. Joey, who missed her own dog something awful, was hooked. She wasn’t going anywhere. And thus a great bond between Joey and the Penally Abbey spaniel was formed. After convincing Joey to move their game of fetch from the parking lot to the nearby lawn, the rest of us alternated accompanying the new friends and heading up to the room to get ready for the day. When it was my turn to join the retrieving party, one of the hotel owners walked by and told us very matter-of-factly in passing: “That’s Maud.” 

Maud. Said with a British accent to an American ear, Maud is one of those British words you can’t help but repeat immediately after hearing it. Maud. “Hi, Maud!” Joey exclaimed, and Maud responded with a couple bounces of recognition at her name. How were we ever going to convince this child to leave? Turns out none of us wanted to be that guy, so we let Joey and Maud play for about 20 minutes longer than we should have before we assured Joey that Maud would be here when we got back (please, Lord, let Maud be here when we get back). 

Finding Coffee Nirvana in Tenby 

We piled into the Beast and I drove the way-too-narrow-shouldn’t-there-be-more-mirrors-to-see-what’s-coming streets, and arrived about 10 minutes later in Tenby. We parked at a spacious car park (no heart-palpitating garages here) near the center of town and paid for 2 hours of parking before setting out to explore. Tenby is everything you’d expect in a picturesque seaside harbor town, and it was a welcome place to wander. Propelled to prominence by the Normans through its valuable location as a trading hub, there is a large harbour framed with colorful row-homes perched on nearby cliffs and several sandy beaches. It also boasts the ruins of a castle (of course) that juts out into the sea amongst a rocky, uneven coastline that really seems as though it would have been better served by a lighthouse, but Normans gotta build castles, ok? It’s all about warfare here. In fact, Tenby was attacked constantly by the Welsh during the Norman invasion, and eventually walls were built around the town to strengthen its fortifications. You still pass through the ruins of those large stone walls today. By the Victorian era, the Norman warfare age was long gone and Tenby became a fashionable seaside resort, a reputation it retains today. We walked through the streets among a crowd of exceedingly polite English holiday-makers, and took our time by doing a bit of souvenir shopping along the way. Like any good seaside town, there were taffy and fudge shops everywhere, so we picked up some requisite souvenir snacks. (I got Rick a “fish and chips” flavored lollipop, which was probably my worst decision of the entire trip... maybe second only to convincing Anne to get the vegan fish and chips in Cardiff.) I also picked up a set of those velcro-and-tennis-ball catch games and a couple of small soccer balls, foreseeing a lot of Joey’s time being spent on that lawn with Maud at Penally Abbey. We meandered down the cobblestone streets toward the harbor, before pausing for another rest stop while Anne and I held our breath and tried our luck at a coffee-shop. And then we found it. Our first really-good, rich cup of coffee. Anne got an Americano and I a cappuccino. The espresso was bitter but not too bitter, and had undertones that were velvety and bold. Unlike most of the other espresso drinks we had in the UK, it was not watery or over-extracted. We were so excited we took several pictures of the cafe for posterity.  Well done, Caffe Llew. Your name may be unpronounceable, but I can still taste your rich espresso thousands of miles away. 

Well rested and well caffeinated, we were in good spirits as we set out on the final 5 minute walk to Tenby Harbor. We ducked in one final gift shop, where I found the perfect Christmas ornament to represent our Wales trip (a hand-knit sheep), and Anne and I clandestinely bought a pinot grigio scented candle for Mom, so she’d never be deprived again. Mom found little gifts for half of her grandchildren, including a purple unicorn for Joey who was immediately dubbed “Emma.” Sure, her traveling stuffed animal collection includes Bunny Wunny and Leopard Wepoard and … Emma. Makes total sense. 

Satisfied with our shopping for the day, we made one final push for the seaside. The streets all curved to the left as the land narrowed and jutted out into Carmarthen Bay. We sort of stumbled onto Tenby Harbour, which was framed by cottages set on narrow streets that wound over cliffs and overlooked Harbour Beach, a small sandy beach at the foot of the marina. If you breathed in deeply, the aroma of fresh seaside air - a mysterious mix of seafood, salt, and sand - greeted you, and this Marylander welcomed the familiar scent. Almost immediately, Anne and Joey headed straight down to the beach while Mom and I lingered behind to enjoy the view from above. Eventually, Mom found a bench to rest while I set out in search of her own version of a magical espresso (Diet Pepsi). In my search I wandered over to a street to the right of the harbor and found Castle Beach, an even wider stretch of sand enclaved by steep rocky cliffs and, true to name, Tenby Castle itself. Though it lacked the beautiful cottage setting of Harbor Beach, Castle Beach had a nicer overlook with well kept flower beds and picnic tables, so after procuring a Diet Coke (sorry Mom), I headed back to move our party over there. 

When Seagulls Attack

Mom got situated at a bench high up on the overlook at Castle Beach (and was a champ for climbing uphill to get there after already walking a mile from the car park), while I returned to retrieve Anne and Joey from the beach where they had been playing catch. They had invented (invented being perhaps a generous term) a simple yet addicting game they called “Forwards/Backwards.” If they caught the ball, they both took one step backward. If they missed it - wait for it - they took one step forward. Apparently this had been going swimmingly until a few aggressive seagulls decided to assert their dominance. Let me tell you something about Anne that is way-less-weird and way-more-common than my fruit problem: Anne hates birds. And by hates, I mean she has the fear. We learned of this five years ago when we were in Mt. Tremblant on a wonderful trip with Rick, Joey (then a baby), and Rick’s parents and attended a “Birds of Prey” show which unwittingly scared the bejeezus out of Anne. She had no idea of this latent fear until that fateful show, when she was surrounded by swooping falcons on the side of a mountain with no easy escape. Flash forward five years and here she was on Harbor Beach, just minding her own business and playing a fun game of catch with her niece, when a few seagulls begin swooping down and pecking at their shoes (which had been momentarily discarded) like terrorized monsters. I can only imagine Anne’s vision immediately went black, but - they told me in excited, breathless voices - Joey went into full Knight rescue mode. Joey threw her arms up above her head and began screaming at the intruders “HEY BIRDS YOU’RE NEVER GONNA GET MY FRIEND’S SHOES GET OUT OF HERE YOU BIRDS” and then ran after them while wildly throwing her arms overhead to chase them off. The birds didn’t stand a chance. They quickly dispersed in the face of such a fearsome performance and all was well again. The story was great, sure, but I’m a big sap so my smile mostly came from the thought of Joey, under pressure, intrinsically describing Aunt Anne first as her friend. Even if it was to a flock of seagulls.   

I assured them that were far fewer seagulls on the nearby overlook, so maybe we could wander over there to join Mom and then pick up some fish and chips for a picnic lunch. Joey sat with Mom playing with Emma by the picnic table while Anne and I headed back into town to find some lunch. We figured Tenby must have great fish and chips (note: not in lollipop or vegan form), and we set out to find it. We stopped at an ATM and waited in a short line to get a bit more cash, and that’s when - Knight Joey not there to protect us - our seagulls nemesis had their revenge. As I stood staring dumbfounded at the beautiful Great Pyrenees Dog in line in front of us at the ATM, I felt an uncomfortable warm sensation on the side of my foot. Yup -there was a trail of seagull poop from the outside of my purse (and thank god it was outside, I feel compelled to note) down the back of my jeans to my flip flops. The ultimate revenge. Anne is right; birds cannot be trusted. 

Cashed up and marked by our feathered enemies, we returned to one of the several restaurants we had passed to order a few sets of fish and chips to go. Restaurant 1 - no takeaway. Restaurant 2 - no takeaway. Now, we’re a quick learn. We were catching on to a pattern here. At the second restaurant Anne asked where we could find some takeaway food, and the disinterested waitress told us to try over by the walled area - about a 10 minute walk away. Resigned, we thanked her and set out for our destination trying to speed-walk by increasingly thicker crowds of vacationers. We eventually found what looked to be a buffet restaurant consisting exclusively of fried seafood, so we were optimistic we would have a quick turnabout and make it back to Mom and Joey, who had been left hungry and bored at the overlook about 30 minutes before. We placed our order - two sets of fish and chips, a fishcake and chips, and oh yes - lots of ketchup for Joey - and they asked us to take a seat. What we thought would be an easy order took 20 minutes and change. We stared at the buffet wondering how we had misordered to miss out on the bevy of prepared food that sat in front of us. With lunch eventually in hand, we stepped up our speed walking game and zoomed back to Joey and Mom. 

Playing Dead

Upon arrival it appeared we were too late; Joey and Mom were playing dead from fatigue and hunger. It was only a matter of time before the seagulls descended. Luckily the scent of fresh seafood revived them, and we had a lovely picnic by the seashore. The fish and chips were okay -- the ones I had the day prior in Pontycymer, 80 miles away from the coast, were still better -- but isn’t that always the case; the best “local” food will come from neighborhood places, not necessarily a vacationer’s mecca. As we finished up, Joey asked if she could venture down to the beach to dip her toes in the water and I agreed as long as she came back up within 10 minutes if we didn’t retrieve her first. Joey is nothing if not obedient, and because we had a vista over the beach and could keep a distant eye on her, I never questioned her affirmation in response. 

Arcades and Ice Cream

After cleaning up, Mom assured us she could walk back to the car park, especially because she was worried about us trying to drive through the narrow seaside streets, which were ostensibly open to traffic but consisted of about 80% pedestrians. She proposed it in an incredibly affable way, but it was pretty clear she was also saying “I’m worried you might kill someone,” and can you blame her really?  As she headed to the nearby bathroom, I went to the harbor to check on the availability of a sunset cruise Mom had spotted (not running until July), and Anne went down to get Joey. I quickly met back up with Mom, but Anne and Joey were still at the beach, so I headed down after them thinking they had got caught up in another intense game of Forwards, Backwards. As I arrived on the beach, I spotted Anne down by the coastline looking around and calling Joey’s name. My heart immediately sank to the pit of my stomach. I took a quick survey of the beach, having just seen Joey in this exact place mere minutes before, but it was as if she had disappeared into thin air. The beach was full of (mostly) Baby Boomers enjoying a day on the sand, and all of them seemed blissfully unaware of a lost six year old. I watched as Anne wandered behind a cliff on the shoreline, intending to search around the bend. Joey is nothing if not obedient, I told myself, so I stayed still and pivoted 360 degrees while looking up, knowing that she knew she was to come back up after 5-10 minutes. In the distance, I caught a flicker of a pink and purple skirt flying in the wind. About 40 yards away was another ramp leading out from the beach to the town much less traveled than the one behind me, and Joey was at the top alone - lost and frantically crying. I ran over to her and scooped her up. Like us, she didn’t realize there was more than one way in and out of the beach and she had chosen the incorrect, hidden route to return. As we descended back down to the beach, Anne spotted us and the color that had been drained from her face immediately returned. Joey had been “lost” for at most 5 minutes, but the intensity of such momentary panic followed by the subsequent relief still gives me chills. We collected Mom and recounted the story, and after a round of hugs all around, Joey clasped my hand tightly as we slowly made our way back through the winding streets of Tenby. 

We paused halfway so that Joey could play a few games in the local arcade, as we had promised her on our walk in. As I said, most of the other vacationers in town were friendly Baby Boomers, so the other arcade patrons were mostly there to play a few nostalgic games and had no use for their tickets to buy kids’ toys and candy, so several passed them off to Joey. Before playing a single game, she already had been gifted over 80 tickets. In the back of the arcade was an old carnival standby named “Down the Clown,” where you throw balls at clowns to try to… you know… down them. Well, Anne was like a moth to a flame at this game (I assume she imagined the clowns were birds) and she and Joey played at least three rounds. Afterwards Joey made out like a bandit with her hundreds of donated tickets at the toy counter (she chose a slinky and a soccer ball), and Anne took one last round with the clowns. (Hint for Krystian… the game is a steal for just under $10,000 online!) 

We emerged back into the daylight to find Mom conveniently resting outside an ice cream shop. Pit stop #2, only 20 yards away from the arcade, was ice cream all around. We sat on the benches outside watching our fellow pedestrians and an occasional car glide by. Anne and I both agreed that no matter how accomosted we were to the changing lanes and traffic patterns here, the most difficult thing to adjust to was watching cars pass with dogs sitting upright in the front passenger seat, where our brains naturally expected the driver to sit. We had to constantly remind ourselves that chauffeur dogs were (sadly) not (yet) a thing. 

Toys in hand and ice cream in tummies, we had a short walk left to get to the car, and we left Tenby happy and satisfied. The two hours we had initially paid for parking was about 2 hours short, so we were expecting a ticket on our return. Instead we found a note from the parking management, written in such amazingly polite and deferential language we thought it may have been a prank, telling us that they noticed we parked longer than we had paid for, and could we please pay the difference by dropping the extra money in this envelope and depositing it on our way out? Thank you so much. Not one to refuse such a polite request, we obliged and then headed for Penally Abbey, arriving home around 3pm. 

R&R and PB&J

Happy to relax the rest of the afternoon and evening away, Joey was starting to battle some homesickness, so she sat down to compose a postcard to her little brother. “Hi Jay,” it began, “I am coming home in 3 days and when I come home we can do fun things together. I will see you soon. Love, Joey.” Satisfied with her first card, she composed another equally heart-melting message to her grandparents, and then dutifully marched down to the lobby to ask the receptionist to send them out on her behalf, tout de suite. Anne and I had conferred about taking some downtime to write -- me to catch up on these trip notes, and Anne to work on her thesis on valuative capacity in ultra-metric spaces, “sort of number theory and sort of ultra metric analysis,” she offered for clarity.* You’re learning so much about my sister today: 1.) Crazy smart mathematician. 2.) Enjoys pelting circus performers with balls. 3.) Doesn’t trust birds. 

*Do I understand any of those words I just wrote? No. See Anne’s forthcoming thesis for additional information.  

Before writing and relaxation, we decided to have a bit of an early happy hour on the terrace to soak in the beautiful weather (plus everyone knows writing about valuative capacity is way easier after a drink or two), so we rounded up Mom and Joey and headed down to reception. One order of pinot grigio and a bit of a nostalgia cocktail for Anne and me - the classic Kir Royale, and we were certainly well on our way to settling into this vacation. Our host also included a few slices of the Cake of the Day, which is baked fresh at midday and available to guests every afternoon to devour with their afternoon tea (or… afternoon cocktails) in the gardens. Today that cake was layers of rich chocolate cake and ganache, topped with fondue and a walnut crunch. We sat at one of the bistro tables facing the sea and savored the spread in front of us, while Joey explored the gardens on her own (clearly looking for Maud), and then when she returned dog-less she began a one-woman spectacle of dance, singing, and sound effects. A true performer, our laughs would only encourage her to become more outlandish in her performance, and soon she was laughing so hard at herself she had trouble continuing on. 

Following in Anne’s orange-juice-spilling footsteps, during one particularly boisterous bout of laughter I spilled Anne’s almost-totally-full Kir all over the table. After deciding we’d be better off just sharing one cocktail anyway, we ordered a pot of tea for replacement, which - of course - paired exceptionally well with the chocolate and walnut cake. They can’t do coffee, but their tea was clearly down to a delicious science. As the tea was dropped off, we inquired after Maud’s location and our waitress (the same from dinner the night before) perked up, “she just had a trip to the sea, so she’s still a bit damp but I’ll go retrieve her now!” and then trotted off toward the office while Joey, unable to contain her excitement, jumped up and down in eager anticipation. Moments later a blur of brown and white was bounding toward Joey and soon the two friends were scampering around the gardens together, no doubt looking for new stones to retrieve. 

The rest of us relaxed in peace while savoring our tea and cake. It was a calm, sunny day with a light breeze coming off the coastline. From our perch on the terrace, you could see the water stretch out to the horizon on the right, and then follow the shoreline over to the skyline of Tenby on the left. We heard talk all over today of the upcoming “heat wave,” scheduled to start tomorrow, which was to be especially bad on the continent, but would only climb up to 78F here. (78 still seemed appalling to the Welsh, however.) This afternoon, though, the temperature hovered in the high 60s and was thus the sort of day you loathed to spend indoors if you could help it. We sat on the terrace for at least another 30 minutes, until Joey and Maud returned exhausted from their garden adventures. Joey’s exertion had prompted some hangriness to surface, and she needed something more substantial than cake to tide her over. Anne led Joey inside to inquire after any available snacks, and upon returning Joey had a big smile on her face.

“Good snack selection?” I asked. Well, apparently they just had sandwiches. Cucumber, ham and cheese, smoked salmon, the works. None of those appealed to Joey though, so after patiently listening to the list of options she asked, “Ok but what about peanut butter and jelly?” Peanut butter and jelly, I should note, is a distinctly North American delicacy, so it should serve as a testament to the great hospitality of the staff at Penally Abbey that they indulged such an off-menu (literally, off-continent) request. About five minutes later, Joey had her custom-made sandwich, a bowl of crisps, and fresh apple juice to wash it all down with. With Maud resting at her feet, she devoured her sandwich and was about as content as could be. As Joey ate her second lunch, Mom decided to retire for a mid-afternoon nap while Anne and I discussed the finer points of why we like the UK, but don’t feel as strong of a connection here as one might expect in their ancestral home. “Between the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812, I just don’t have a heart for Britain,” Anne surmised. Ah yes, hundreds-of-years-old war wounds die slowly, I suppose. 

In Search of Dinner

Eventually, we knew we had to tear ourselves away from the terrace (especially after Maud was called inside), so we retreated back to our rooms. Joey had a bit of downtime playing games on her tablet, while Anne and I headed down to the lawn to work on crazy math stuff (Anne) and normal human being stuff (me). About 20 minutes in, I heard Joey’s footsteps behind us and turned to see her arms loaded full of the games and soccer balls we picked up early in the day. It was my turn to play a few rounds of Backwards, Forwards, so Anne could get a bit more work done. Joey and I played for almost half an hour. Eventually, Anne joined in, but by 6:30 we decided maybe we should check-in with Mom about dinner options. We all wanted something close-by and relatively simple, so we found the only two places within walking distance (that didn’t include the Penally Abbey restaurant): the Cross Inn and the Paddock Inn -- both fairly straightforward pub-restaurants. After looking at the online menus and skimming the reviews, our choice was pretty clear. Though I don’t generally take too much stock in online reviews, the negative reviews for the Paddock Inn were all met with deeply unsettling responses from the owner/manager, including a lot of SHAME ON YOUS (yikes). I’ve made a lot of poor restaurant choices in my life, but I feel confident passing on a restaurant that makes me squirm in discomfort from simply reading online reviews. The Cross Inn had virtually no online presence, and was clearly our winner for the evening. We originally hoped to pick up takeaway and then eat on the room terrace, but after 5 attempts to call ahead, we decided to cut our losses and head down in person to dine. Mom still preferred rest and relaxation at the Abbey, so she stayed behind and asked us to get her something to go. 

Soon Joey, Anne and I headed out on foot through the little village of Penally. We passed through a small square next to the town chapel, and took a bit of time reading the WWI and WWII memorials they erected there for fallen soldiers. We walked five minutes down the main street (its narrow, blind turns with no sidewalks also terrifying as pedestrians), realized we were walking the wrong way, turned around and walked 10 minutes the other way before arriving at the Cross Inn. If you picture in your mind the quintessential neighborhood pub, this would be it. Wood panelling on the inside, cricket on most TVs and rugby on a few others, we were waved at in passing to seat ourselves anywhere. The pub was relatively crowded, so while service was a bit slower than our hungry stomachs had hoped for, we couldn’t complain too much. Joey surprised us by ordering the fish bites and chips. (two rounds of fish and chips in one day? Yes, please). I ordered the seafood pie with salmon and haddock, and Anne opted for the vegetarian shepherd’s pie. To start, I also ordered the pate liver, because my greatest weakness is pate and I have no self control. 

The Cross Inn offered a comfortable, homey environment that was reminiscent of restaurants from decades before, and the complete lack of cell phone service only rounded out this 90s-era experience. This meant no texting Mom the menu, and - lucky for her - we’d just have to guess what she’d want. After a bit of deliberation, we decided to continue the savory pie theme and opted for the chicken, mushroom and leek pie, as well as an order of camembert bites. After another heavy, satisfying meal we headed back out for the easy 5 minute walk back to Penally Abbey. In a fit of inspiration as we started uphill toward the hotel, Joey decided to give a video tour of our home-away-from-home starting a series called “Show Around the House.” This is how YouTube stars are born right? 

By the time we made it home around 9pm, Mom was a bit hungry and thankfully very happy with our selection from the Cross Inn. We spent the rest of the evening lounging, reading, or watching movies before turning in. Our trip was starting to draw to a close, but we had a very important agenda for Thursday. After a week of following us to castles and coal mining towns with little complaint, Joey was handsomely rewarded by being able to pick our activity for tomorrow and, true to kid form, she chose... THEME PARK. Joey, Anne and I were headed to an amusement park in the morning to see what the coasters here had to offer, and would return for formal afternoon tea by 3. A day of extremes, if you will. Joey, already feeling the excitement of tomorrow, was easily asleep by 10 and the rest of us followed soon after.