A long, long time ago, back in the mists of time, we both grew up in the same small village in North Wales, oddly we didn’t know each other until later. The small village was near a small town called Llangollen. Llangollen is the home to something called the International Eisteddfod.
Every year at the beginning of July, choirs, dancers and poets from all corners of the globe descend on the area to sing, dance and do everything that people do at festivals and … here’s the magic part, the visitors all stay with local people! For the best part of a week we were not only surrounded by people who couldn’t speak out language, they actually lived with us – I swear we grew up thinking that there was an international word for ‘chicken’ and that it was ‘cluck cluck’. We remember people staying with us from the USA, Sweden, Sardinia, Canada and Finland. Suzanne even managed to pass on my chicken pox to an Italian baritone once and one early visitor from the USA returned a couple of years later for a holiday with his new wife.
The big world outside of our small Welsh village was a constant source of wonderment from childhood and we longed to see some of it first-hand. We’re lucky enough to be able to do that in small instalments. It’s still wonderful, and we’d love to share some of that wonder with you all.
How do we like to travel?
We’re not overly fond of large hotels or all-inclusive holidays, but we don’t like roughing it too much either. We’re more posh backpackers, liking homestays, small locally owned hotels and posh hostels with private rooms. For some odd reason , we adore public transport while away, we seem to gravitate to bus and train travel – even though, as our friends note, we seem to have at least one transport prat-fall every holiday.