Off we go to London once again

This morning dawned bright and sunny as it has been doing for several days now. Hard to believe that just a couple of weeks ago we were thinking of trading the Mini Cooper in for a motorboat.

Once again we headed off for London on the morning train. This time, since it was Saturday, we knew there would be parking at the train station so we drove the car. We took a wrong turn at first, but soon recognized our error and made it to the station in time to catch the 9:45 heading north. As you know, we booked a B&B in the village of Tunbridge Wells for its proximity to the rail line since I was not planning to drive in London. The train ride has been a real pleasure. The trains are modern and smooth-running, and constantly inform you by voice and by LED just where you are and where you will be stopping next.

Once in London, we knew just what to do and where to go this time. Yesterday, we chose to ride one of the red double-decker buses to our destination at the Imperial War Museum. Today, we wanted to immerse ourselves in the experience of "tube-riding" (see photo top right). Since I spent much time on the tube back in 1973, the technique soon came back to me. Down lots and lots of escalators -- don't forget to stand on the right so escalator-climbers can jog by -- and check out the multi-colored maps that tell you just what line to ride to get where you're going. We haven't tried changing trains yet, but if I remember right, it's pretty darn easy.

We had the necessary cards to ride. They're the same ones you use to ride the red buses. Works great to get them in advance, just like the train passes. Then you just run them through the automatic reader and off you go. Down in the bowels of the subway system, it was pretty interesting to see tourists from all parts of the planet huddled around, staring at the maps, and deciding on their destinations. The system is so easy, I don't think anyone had a problem.

Our intended destination for the day was the British Museum (see photo #2 and #3 above -- Connie wanted me to say, 'Hi Maggie' from her on the steps in #3).

I'm sure you've begun to see a trend by now. Concetta and I like all that old stuff. But this time we were going for the really super old stuff. Contained in the British Museum is an immense amount of archaeological finds from everywhere on the globe that go back thousands and thousands of year ago. Specifically, we were interested in the collections centered on the Greek culture in southern Italy where Concetta's ancestors made their home. Most people don't know that the Greeks had a very strong presence in southern Italy and Sicily several thousand years ago, which probably insures that Concetta has some Greek ancestors if you go back far enough. Interesting that the very first words I ever said to her in that laudromat over 32 years ago were, "Are you Greek." I scare myself sometimes.

Visiting these museums in Britain takes a lot of stamina, we have found. They just have millions of items on display. If you actually stopped to read the description of each display item, your visit would be measured in years not hours. Some of the most beautiful pottery, metal-smithing, sculpturing, and foundry work you'll ever see in your life can be found at the British Museum. My favorite things were the mosaics (see photo 4) and the sculpture (photo 5). I just can't imagine one human having sufficient time and talent to craft such beauty.

Considering that the mosaics are built using one tiny piece of stone at a time (the pieces are called "tesserae" after the Greek word for "four") it's hard to imagine just how long some of these intricate designs might take, not even counting how long it would take to make the tiny pieces of stone in the first place.

The stone carving is just totally beyond my ability to understand how a mere human could turn out such beauty. You've probably seen lots and lots of sculpture in your life, but most are pretty heavily damaged after thousands of years of abuse and neglect. But many of the sculptures at the British Museum are in close to pristine condition. Absolutely amazing. I couldn't stop photographing them. Every once in a while I'd look around to see if the guards were taking an interest in me, thinking maybe I was casing the joint for a later late-night visit. But no one seemed to notice me.

You want to know the very best thing about the British Museum? It's this: as you walk through those hallowed halls filled with the cultural achievements of countless vanished cultures, you hear voices. Lots of voices. I suspect that almost as many modern cultures are present in that building each day as are on display. I heard French voices, Italian voices, German Voices, Japanese Voices, Chinese voices -- and a lot of voices I couldn't identify. They all were there, side by side, enjoying the collections in harmony. What we all wish people would do more often.

Sadly, we didn't stay long enough to do the Museum justice. But by 2:00 o'clock it was tea time and we had to stop. Then, after a nice lunch in the museum cafeteria, we did a bit of souvenir shopping. Finally, we headed for the tube station. For a while we thought of maybe trying to fit one more activity in before normal closing time, but in the end we caught the early train back to Tunbridge Wells and sought out an ale house for a spot of dinner. I had the "Cottage Pie" again as it often turns out to be pretty good. Concetta had the fish, but without the "chips" this time. And then it was home for an early evening and work on the blog. Wonder of wonders, I'm actually going to have this blog finished tonight before midnight. Tomorrow, hopefully, it's the Sherlock Holmes museum and the "London Eye." Can't wait. The time here has flown by and I suspect, just as we've discovered everywhere in the UK, a mere month over here is like taking one lick of an ice cream cone. It's just not going to satisfy us in the end. Guess we'll just have to come back, rent a rose-covered cottage down a country lane, and settle in for -- well, however long it takes.

Ciao, Tutti.

Off to London on a fine sunny day

Well, the weather has finally turned fine here now. This morning our B&B hostess delivered us to the local train station (see pix) and off we went to the magic city of London. I had pre-paid for 3-day train vouchers so we didn't have to figure out how to buy tickets at the station. We just waved our vouchers at the ticket agent and boarded the train. The ride was smooth and comfortable and we enjoyed it very much. I've always been drawn to the idea of taking the train to work every day and riding in comfort while I read my morning newspaper. The closest I ever got to it was when I lived in Chicago. Had I stayed in Chicago when I got out of the Navy, I might indeed have commuted to work via rail. Alas, it was not to be. But this morning I got to see just what it would be like as we rode amidst the many London commuters on their way to work.

Concetta's request for the day's activities included the National Art Gallery (photo 2)and the Imperial War Museum. Both sounded okay to me so once we arrived at Charing Cross Station, we wandered out onto the sidewalk looking for clues to the proximity of our quarry and before long had literally stumbled over the National Gallery. It was only a half block from the station. The museum is free, however Concetta and I sprang for the cost of the audio tour to the tune of about fourteen dollars. The audio is really worth it as your eyes would probably give out long before you managed to read the captions under every painting. I say every, but it would take days and days to view every painting AND listen to the background and interpretation on each one. We viewed as many as we could, but didn't get much beyond the 16th and 17th century art. There's a wonderful collection there to see, but it would take many visits to do it justice. Around two o'clock we finally returned the audio gear and headed for the dining room for a spot of tea and a muffin.

Once rested we set out to find the Imperial War Museum (photos 3 & 4). This destination proved more elusive. Just as I did with the train vouchers, I had purchased the necessary tickets to ride London's red buses months ago and they had been delivered by mail right to the house. It's definitely worth it to get these items in advance and save yourself the headache of trying to figure it out "in country."

There was only one problem: no one told us that specific buses stop only at specific bus stops. We thought naively that every bus eventually would come by the stop where we were patiently waiting. Well, after we had stood at the Trafalgar stop nearest the train station for thirty minutes without once seeing our Number 3 or Number 159 bus, we finally got smart and re-read the sign there. Yes, indeed, we had to go around the corner and wait at the correct bus stop before the 3 or 159 would be coming by. Well, once we got the little gray cells working properly it was a piece of cake to catch the bus and ride to the War Museum.

For those of you who are wondering why Concetta might want to visit a war museum of all things, I'll tell you that she's been reading a couple of different series of novels, each of which takes place in the WWI time period. All the descriptions of miserable trench warfare, vintage flivvers hauling endless loads of wounded from the front lines, and cloth-covered Spads and Jennies winging overhead made her want to experience some of these things in person. And let me tell you, experience it we did. The Imperial War Museum has the finest depictions of warfare I've ever seen. The displays of uniforms, equipment, and firearms are second to none. Each display area comes complete with audio and video depictions in addition to masterfully-crafted display cases. I was just enthralled.

One of the most moving exhibits in the museum is the one on the impact of war on children. Here we experienced the stories of thousands of displaced kids, many of whom were sent to other countries by Jewish parents caught up in the maelstrom of Hitler's advance into their respective countries. Most never saw their parents again. But British children also experienced separation from parents as many were sent into the countryside to live with friends, relatives, and even perfect strangers in hopes of saving their lives as the bombing of English cities took place.

We also toured the Holocaust exhibit. While we have not had an opportunity to view the Washington D.C. Holocaust Museum yet, we certainly found the story they told here at the Imperial very, very moving. The museum sought to individualize the stories with pictures and letters and personal items from the murdered people and through audio interviews with survivors as well as news footage shot by the Nazis at the time. It's not a "feel-good" experience, but one everyone should try and acquaint themselves with.

One high point at the museum for Concetta and me was the display devoted to the personal effects of Thomas Edward Lawrence (bottom photo). You may know him as "Lawrence of Arabia." Concetta and I have been fans ever since we saw the epic movie with Peter O'toole. To be just inches away from his uniform, weapons, and, most spectacularly, his personal motorcycle was just thrilling.

Sorry for the lateness of this post. I had it all done last night and suddenly Google just erased about 1/3 of everything I'd written and all but two of the photos. So, I had to do it over this morning.

Ciao, tutti.

Southampton by the sea

Today we bid a reluctant farewell to John, our host at Webster’s B&B in Salisbury, Wiltshire, England. Concetta and I thoroughly enjoyed all things about Websters. Even though all our hosts over the past two weeks have been friendly, accommodating, and eager to please, John impressed us with his enthusiasm, willingness to take time to chat, and for the obvious joy he took in running his guest house as expertly as he could. John and Veronica have one of best B&Bs we've encountered so far and I unhesitatingly recommend his home to anyone headed to Salisbury.

Unfortunately, leave we must as our next host was expecting us. But before we set our course for “The Old Barn” in Kent, I wanted to drop down to the coast, city of Southampton, and see if I might find a museum dedicated to the Titanic. Thanks to the GPS, it turned out to be rather easy to find (see top photo). Though I subsequently parked the car going the wrong way on a one-way street, for which a kindly “Bobby” left me a polite note, our navigation device guided us to within about 100 feet of the front door. Very cool!

As you know, Southampton was the last port of call for the Titanic before it set sale for America and its rendezvous with history. I’m sure everyone has seen a million documentaries about the ship and you might think, oh, well, why waste the time. But what I was interested in was more information on the human element in the story. Thankfully, I wasn’t disappointed. The museum had quite a bit of personal property of passengers and crew passed along by surviving family members as well as many, many personal accounts that often fail to make it to the various documentaries. Though museum rules prevented any photography inside, I can tell you that it was well worth the visit.

Of course, after having spent over a year living aboard a boat myself, things to do with the sea always get my attention. But listening to the various biographies of many of the passengers and crew, both survivors and non-survivors, made our visit extremely interesting. Seeing the photographs of crewmen and reading their last cards and letters home had a huge impact on me, I’ll tell you. Museum staff seemed to think that there was still an old lady living in Southampton who was an eight month old baby when the ship went down and is the last known survivor.

After our visit to the Maritime Museum, Concetta and I next headed for the Archaeology Museum (photo 2)where we explored the three periods of early Southampton history. The city had its beginnings as an iron-age settlement, but the first major influx of people came with the Roman invasion around 43 A.D. The Romans turned Southampton into a shipping port and it prospered. After the decline of the Roman empire, the Saxons (probably the Jutes) came next and the settlement expanded as a trading center. Then, in the fourteenth century a wall was built around the city, some of which still survives. In fact, the Archaeology Museum we visit is located in one of the old guard towers from the wall. From that time to now Southampton has been one of the busiest ports and trading centers in the world.

The last thing we did in Southampton was visit the marker erected to commemorate the departure of the Mayflower in 1620 (photo 3)for that place we all know and love, North America. One of the wonderful aspects of traveling in the UK is the age of everything you see. When we were in the Maritime Museum, one of the guides told us that their building was 400 years old when the Mayflower set sail just outside their door. The other night in Salisbury, we had dinner in a restaurant that had been a bar serving the workers who built the city’s cathedral over 700 years ago. Now that’s OLD! Fortunately, the food and ale was great and obviously hadn't been sitting around that long.

I missed out on my tea break today, but we had a very smooth drive from Southampton to our current five-day residence in Kent. Once again, the GPS took us door-to-door without so much as a hiccup. Tomorrow we hope to hop the train to London (I don’t want to drive it) and see the sights there. Stay tuned for adventures on the tube, the Eye, and, if Concetta gets her way, the War Museum.

Ciao, tutti

Movin' on down the road

I'm sure a lot of you are intrigued by the idea of taking a "driving vacation" in England. Probably you feel just the slightest bit intimidated by the thought of driving on the "wrong" side of the road over here in the UK, but I have to tell you that it hasn't been as scary as I anticipated. The thing to keep in mind is that everyone else is doing it right, which makes it easy much of the time to just do what everyone else is doing. In the beginning I had the most trouble if Concetta and I were traveling a little-used road and we were the only ones in sight. Then, when I finally encountered another driver, usually as we came sweeping around a blind curve, my brain would automatically insist that I needed to get to the RIGHT of the oncoming driver. This, of course, would have been disastrous. So, I had to learn to relax and try to "hush" my brain that kept insisting I was wrong. After a week I had pretty much fallen into the routine. However, it still sometimes unnerves me when I encounter that solitary driver at high speed.

The expressways are a piece of cake normally. That's because there are few surprises and the lanes are wider. The biggest problem you will encounter is the narrow country lanes (see pix above right) and the narrow village streets. Both are often only one car width wide. It takes considerable creativity sometimes to thread your way along these narrow tracks while remembering to keep left. Sometimes you're up on the sidewalk. Sometimes you're in the bushes or literally off the road altogether. Sometimes you (or the opposing driver) have to back up to a driveway or other wide spot so one of you can pass.

Aside from clean underwear, our GPS is just about the best thing we brought with us on this trip. It relieves a lot of stress when you don't have to be juggling a map, a magnifying glass, your reading glasses, and a compass as you navigate down these tiny roads, even if you have a navigator.

So far we've only had the GPS send us off on a wild goose chase once and that was tonight as we tried to navigate to a restaurant our B&B host had recommended. This time, the unit "thought" it had taken us to the right place, but no restaurant was visible. So, somehow, and we haven't figured out just how, it decided on a totally different destination for us. Thinking it had corrected its initial erroneous set of instructions, we let it lead us on a fifteen mile road rally that finished up at a tiny cottage down an impossibly narrow road that I suppose only the owner of the cottage ever traveled. It took a couple of re-programmings of the unit to make it come to its senses, but we finally arrived at the appropriate restaurant, considerably more hungry and lower on petrol, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

As you can see by the second photo, Concetta and I visited Stonehenge this morning, something we both have been anxious to do for years. Though TV always makes Stonehenge look a lot larger in the documentaries, the stones are nevertheless very impressive. When you consider the weight of some of those blocks, its like those stone age craftsmen were moving two or three city buses around without the benefit of wheels -- and that's one piled on top of another. They don't let you get close to the stones anymore, but even so Concetta and I were quite moved by the experience and very appreciative of the audio tours that the British Heritage folks provide. By the way, if you're planning a trip to England/Scotland/Wales, be sure and purchase the British Heritage Pass. It gets you into over 800 sites for free.

After our morning admiring the awesome talent of my hard-working Celtic ancestors, Concetta and I next moved on to the village of Tisbury which lay just down the road. Tisbury is where my dad's mother's family were living in the early part of the nineteenth century. At that time the father, great great great grandfather, Joseph Burton was farming about forty acres. Knowing that I probably wouldn't be able to find the actual farm, I still wanted to prowl the streets of the village and maybe visit the cemetery (see pix #3)

Turns out, Concetta and I had a great time talking to the locals at the library, in the street, and at the local pub where we had tea, sandwiches, and "spotted dick" for dessert. The town is absolutely charming, like something out of a story book. Concetta said we ought to buy a cottage and visit more often, but one look at the real estate prices and I think I could get something cheaper in Beverly Hills, or at least San Francisco.

Still, not even in Italy did we see such a wealth of traditional "rose-covered cottages" sitting amidst immaculately-manicured gardens and lawns (note the vintage Mini Cooper in the last photo). Everywhere we went we just instantly fell in love with the beautiful stone cottages, often with thatched roofs, and the wonderful greenery that we in Nevada would definitely kill for.

Well, we actually went on from Tisbury to visit the Salisbury Cathedral area, but I'm too tired now to add any more to the blog so, for tonight, I'll have to say

Ciao, tutti.

We visit Josephine

Today we visited my long-time friend, Josephine, in her wonderful home in Poole on the southern coast of England. I met Josephine over 34 years ago when I spent some months on the island of Malta, her homeland, while our boat, the MAR, was in port for the winter. Though fate decreed that our paths would cross only briefly all those years ago, she has always held a special spot in my heart. She was 19 then.

Today she's raised four children, three lovely girls and a boy, now serving with the Royal Marines.

This morning, Josephine took us on a long stroll around her town to see the picturesque harbor and marina areas, after which we retreated to her sunny kitchen and sipped tea and munched sweat rolls for the afternoon, all the while reliving tales of the "old days." Then, this evening, while keeping up
a lively conversation with Concetta and me, Josephine managed to whip up a fantastic lasagna that would have won a prize in the best Italian (or Maltese) kitchen. The top pix is of Josephine's home in Poole, which she is currently remodeling, more or less, by herself. The second pix is Jo with the box of candy my shipmate requested I bring her. The last pix is of Jo and two of her three daughters, Elizabeth (left) and Stephanie (right).

Not many people know that if it wasn't for Josephine, Concetta and I might not have met. After living aboard the yacht MAR for a year, my shipmate, John, and I had decided that we had had enough of life at sea. But it was initially John whom we agreed would leave first and I would wait until the captain hired someone to fill John's spot before I left to come home. John, at this point, had known Josephine only briefly before we set sail on our summer cruise in 1974. But when the cruise was over and John and Josephine were re-united, he changed his mind and told me that he would stay on board longer and I might go ahead and leave. This I did in early August 1974. By August 15th of '74 I had started a new job in Carson City, and by the end of that fateful month of August I had met Concetta. So, you see, if I had stayed longer on the boat and John had come home first Concetta and I might never have met in that laundromat all those years ago.

Isn't fate a wonderful thing.

Ciao, tutti.

The Perfect Day

Today turned out to be an absolutely perfect day. This morning we bid farewell to southeastern Wales and we turned our little Mini Cooper back towards jolly old England. Our plan was to head for the city of Bath in the English midlands to visit the ancient Roman site in that city. Once on the highway, we soon discovered that Bath was much closer than we had thought. In the end, the trip took less than two hours. Piece of cake.

But as soon as we reached the city limits we had the misfortune to end up right behind a giant yellow school bus that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to pass. At one point I was nearly rear-ended by another big bus behind us and the driver very quickly let me know just how much he appreciated how much I've learned about English driving so far.

Then a thought hit me. I wonder, "I said to Concetta, "if this darn school bus is headed to the Roman baths. Since we really don't know where the baths are, maybe we should just stay right where we are and follow him."

And that's just what we did. Minutes later the bus lead us right to the area we were seeking. Almost immediately we found a dynamite parking spot that didn't tax my ability to park a right-hand-drive car and we were soon headed off on foot.

The first thing we encountered was a museum of historic fashions. Now Concetta was truly in heaven. Actually, I found it pretty interesting myself. You couldn't help but appreciate some of the workmanship that went into these clothes. Most impressive, they had a pair of gloves that were 400 years old, some of the oldest surviving fashion accessories in the world.

We were still at the fashion museum when tea-time arrived, so off we went to the museum cafeteria. Now, one of the culinary items we've been keeping an eye out for because Concetta has seen it on the cooking channel is something called "clotted cream." Well, this tea shop had the very item. So, tea today consisted of scones, clotted cream, and strawberry jam along with a lovely pot of English tea. Clotted cream, though I can't tell you what it is precisely, appeared to me to be something halfway between whipped cream and butter. But whatever it is, I sure liked it.

After the tea break we followed the city's very precise and informative directional signs and soon came upon the Roman baths. Although everyone has at some time or another seen a documentary on the Roman city of Bath, me included, I was just blown away by the presentation there. It's nothing short of outstanding. The more I learn about the Romans and see their handiwork over here, the more impressed I am. One fact I remember is that 240,000 gallons of hot water a day flow through the Roman baths, even today. The Romans had hot tubs, steam rooms, cold plunges, and places where they could get rub downs and individual attention. Pretty neat for 1600 years ago.

After we toured the baths Concetta asked if we could try and find a glass-blowing shop she'd heard about. That sounded interesting to me, so off we went. We soon found someone who directed us and we found the shop without much trouble. Concetta loves glass blowing and I must admit that I find it pretty fascinating as well. For the sum of a couple of pounds they let you go back where the glass workers are plying their craft and watch as long as you want. Neat. Here's a couple of shots of the kid doing the work. Concetta asked him how he'd gotten into the business, thinking he'd say something romantic like, oh it was my calling since I was a child.

However, the young artist said, "Well, I was out of work and my girlfriend threw the newspaper listing at me and told me to go get a job. I've been here ever since."

So much for romance.

After the wonderful glass-blowing demo, we decided to try and find the car since it was getting on to four o'clock and I wanted to try and be in Salisbury by five-ish. Here the perfect day continued unabated as on a whim I suggested that we take a sort of left turn and see if we'd end up anywhere close to where we started that day. Wonder of wonders, we practically tripped over the car fifteen minutes later. And that wasn't the end of our good luck.

Almost right next to the car was something you see here a lot, a "Pay and Park" machine. I was supposed to have put in some money and put a parking slip on the dashboard. Unfortunately, I had totally missed the machine in my haste to park the car and get sight-seeing. Wonder of wonders, no one noticed. There was no parking fine on my window.

Once on the highway, we plugged the postal code for our Salisbury B&B into the our treasured friend, the GPS, and it soon had us out of the city and flying down the road toward the county of Wiltshire. Wiltshire is important in our itinerary because my dad's mother's family comes from the tiny village of Tisbury there. The Burtons were farmers in the early to mid 1800s and, for all I know, may yet be there as only a couple of the family members emigrated to America, my great grandfather being one of them. The remainder of the family stayed right here in England.

While we're in this area we also plan on visiting a person out of my distant past, a friend from the island of Malta whom I met way back in 1974 when I was living aboard a sixty-foot two-masted ketch in the harbor there. We're going to travel south to the seaside city of Poole tomorrow to see her and take in the sights.

Well, that's all for now. Concetta's been asleep for an hour and I better get to sleep myself.

Ciao, tutti.

Where did he go? Deep down below

Well, here we are once more, sitting in McDonalds, hunched over a chicken sandwich, accessing the blog. You will remember that our present B&B doesn't have wireless, a mistake I won't make again. Originally, I chose this particular house because the hosts said that they could arrange for doing our laundry, a pressing necessity at this stage of the trip. But being away from the Internet is just too inconvenient when we always need to locate our next destination, usually based on the postal code that we feed into the GPS. But as the English say, never mind. Tomorrow we're off to Salisbury (where Stonehenge is found) and the B&B there is guaranteed to have the Internet.

This morning Concetta and I had an absolutely marvelous time touring, of all things, a coal mine. Before you throw up your hands in horror, let me tell you that seldom have we enjoyed such a professionally-run tour. First, we had to hand over anything on our person that might cause a spark, including cameras, cell phones, watches, and (believe it or not) the automatic key lock for the car. Then they gave us carbide lamps and hard hats. Finally they herded about a dozen of us into a cage suspended on the end of a wire cable and dropped us 300 feet into the bowels of the earth.

Then, for the next hour, we learned everything there is to know about coal-mining in the last century and before. Did you know that in Wales, the country that produced the finest coal on earth for decades, you could start working in the mines at age five -- boys or girls? Did you know that a five-year-old child would often be working in complete darkness, on a twelve-hour shift, and have a devilish job keeping the rats away from his/her lunch? Incredible!!!

Our guide in the mine, a twenty-five-year veteran of the mine, as were his father and grandfather before him, told us that if you got a working space of four to six feet headroom, you were in clover. If you got three feet of headroom, you were still okay. But sometimes you got as little as seventeen inches and had to work lying on your side with a pick. And, throughout most of the history of coal mining, you only got paid for coal you sent to the surface. You didn't get paid for just showing up. As an added bonus, you often had to walk as many as four miles to the coal face, something for which you didn't get paid. And, if you got hurt, as hundreds did, your fellow coal miners carried you out of the mine. No paramedics showed up. Not until modern times was there a hospital on the property. Here's the bombshell: Women as well as men worked in the mine, often on their hands and knees pulling or pushing loaded cars of coal. Everyone had to work or the family often had not enough to eat.

In the afternoon, once we'd had our usual tea, we visited castles. One, was an 11th century ruin of a Norman castle which was restored by a wealthy industrialist in the mid 1800s. In fact, at the time, he was considered to be the most wealthy man in the world, mostly due to the industrial revolution that had made him rich. He owned, among other things, the dock area where all the coal and iron was shipped to other countries. He restored the castle we visited purely to use as a hunting lodge. The entire interior was magnificently gilded in bright colors and decorated with impressive artwork.

Our second castle of the day was in the town of Caerphilly and looked the most like a real castle with a moat, draw bridges, and huge towering gates. The same rich man who restored the first castle also started restoration on the second, much larger castle, and restoration has been ongoing every since. It is the largest castle in Wales, the second-largest in Britain (second to Windsor castle) and is one of the largest fortresses in Europe. It was built mainly between 1268 and 1271, it is an early example of a concentric castle, meaning that there is a castle wall within the outer wall.