Back to Wales

I flew into Birmingham airport, and was immediately greeted with beautiful fresh cool air. My train to Machynlleth was not until the next morning, so I slept in the airport. I was lucky enough to find a couch, in the lounge of a coffee shop.

I was so tired, though, that I had the wrong time for the train, and ended up having to buy a new ticket on the 8:30 one. I made it to Machynlleth sometime in the early afternoon, so I wandered around town and then caught the bus out to my friend's house in Corris.

Coming from Spain to Wales was a strange transition. Not only the weather, but the people, the trains, everything.

Corris is such a special place for me that I was delighted to be back. I fell asleep since I was so tired, and when I woke up my friend was back.

I returned to Wales under the pretense of getting the things I had left behind, but I was actually going to speak with this friend, to share what I had seen and heard and to have help processing it. I was entirely right in that instinct, and being in Wales helped to clear up a few things.

The next day, I walked for about an hour towards town. The road winds around next to a river lined with mossy trees. I glanced down at one point, and saw a small island below. I felt drawn to it immediately, and found a way down to the water, climbed a fence, and left my things beneath a tree, slipped off my shoes, and sat on a stone next to a small pool in the river before crossing through the cold water to the island.

There were five thin oak trees, and two sycamores, and on the other end the little river crashed down over boulders. I climbed on top of one of them and let my feet dangle over the rushing water.

Wales is a magical place, full of life and beauty, that reaches me in a way no other land has. I am so glad that I followed my instincts to travel there. It was wrenching to leave.