My classmate, Ben, did his undergrad in Swansea, Wales, the home of poet Dylan Thomas. He went for the surfing, met his girlfriend Sian (pronounced "Shon" or "Shan," the Welsh version of "Jan" or "Jane") who surfs as well, and years later, they're still together. She's got a house there while he's here doing the MA, so he mostly gets to see her on weekends.

He invited us to come down to Swansea a while back and since this was the May Day bank holiday weekend, it seemed like this was the time to do it. Only Marshal and I were able to take Ben up on the offer. The rest had other commitments. So it was a weekend with the boys. Friday Marshal and I took the train from Paddington to his parents' home in Maidenhead, where we would pick up his car and drive the rest of the way.




I got to meet his mom. Very nice lady. She's Scottish. Marshal's dad is American. They met while his dad did a semester abroad in Edinburgh. After getting married, they lived in New York for a bit before moving back to the UK. Marshal almost grew up as an American. Or a Scot. And just to give his ethnic background more color, his dad is Jewish. I got to see Marshal's bar mitzvah photo proudly displayed above the stairs. Earlier this year, I told Marshal about playing Tevye in high school. He seemed to like that. Apparently his dad's cousin actually invested in the very first production of Fiddler on the Roof.



It was a good road trip. Smooth sailing, even though it was slightly odd to be on the other side of the car. And the other side of the highway.



Eventually we got the bridge that leads from England to Wales.



You have to pay a toll after you cross. The money doesn't go to Wales though. And it doesn't go to England. It goes to France. Apparently a French company owns the bridge.



On the other side, we began to see road signs in two languages, Welsh as well as English.



As we came down into the bay, I saw a nice green hillside to our right. Houses there have a lovely view...



... Of the factories belching out smoke on the other side of the highway.



Coming into Swansea, we ran into heavy traffic. I called Ben to let him know that we were going to be late. He said he was sleeping on the beach and asked us to call when we got closer. He sounded so contented there, which seemed to bode well for the weekend to come. Before we called him back, he called us to ask if we wanted to have a barbecue on the beach when we got there. The response was something like, "Hell, yeah, we want a barbecue on the beach!"

Soon after we parked, he skateboarded up to us and we all went to the grocery store for burgers, sausages, buns, beer, veggie sausages for Sian, and -- get this -- a disposable barbecue grill. I'd never heard of such a thing, but I suppose they have them somewhere in the States. It was basically a tin foil pan with a wire grill and built-in fuel to burn. What a concept. Once we had our supplies, we met up with Sian and headed over to Langland Bay.



We passed some wild garlic growing by the sidewalk on the way. Ben pointed them out to us. The leaves were tasty, so I suggested we pluck a handful to have with the burgers.

Down on the sand we threw our blanket down and lit the grill. We soon realized none of us had a bottle opener for the beer, so Ben used his teeth on the first few, while I searched for rocks that could be used to wedge the caps off. It took quite a while before we found a rock ledge that would save Ben's teeth -- though he really didn't seem to mind.

Sadly, I didn't get any photos of barbecuing, since we were rapidly losing light. The meat was highly satisfying after a long day's drive though.



Sian taught Marshal and me a couple of Welsh idioms, little phrases that were just so very Welsh. My favorite came from an argument overheard between an old Welsh couple at a chip shop. She was saying how her husband didn't really appreciate her. His response -- "You knows I loves you. I buys you chips."

Next Episode: A breakfast harvested from the sea...