I decided to stay at the YHA a second night, leave Snowdonia the following day, and then make my way south to Buckfast Abbey to stay with Benedictine Monks. A part of me lamented foregoing a few nights stay at Ted’s hostel, but on this trip I’ve learned to listen to my gut instincts, and to not spend time lamenting beyond the point I catch myself.
(Private cabins at the hostel)
My gut, in hindsight, turned out to be right. But who knows? Life isn’t like a Choose Your Own Adventure book, wherein you can go back and see what would’ve happened if you chose to turn to page 86, rather than page 42 (...Damn! I chose page 42, which was good. But page eighty six had me finding a beautiful wife, finding a fulfilling career, and living a life of unending bliss! ...Well, aaawwwe shucks!).
(A moment before, these two were looking in through the front door of the hostel.)
On the morning of my second day, ponytail guy at the Hostel suggested I visit the Slate Mine Museum. He said it’s interesting and free. He sold me on “free.”
(From the top of the ruins of the castle on the edge of town)
It turned out to be awesome and fascinating. The town was built around the slate industry for years, like Pittsburgh and Cleveland were steel towns, Llanberis was a slate town. Then, in a similar manner, everything stopped suddenly- for Llanberis it was the late sixties. It became too expensive to ship their slate all over the world. Then everyone got poor and they turned the town into a tourist attraction.
(Outside my hostel in the morning)
I walked through the museum wondering what a tough guy life the men and their families used to live here. Male or female, you had to be a tough guy to live here any time before 1980. They spent their days, winters and summers, breaking slabs of slate, hammering, lifting, probably getting horribly maimed occasionally, then getting drunk at the pub on Fridays. ..Ohh, I envy them.
-Not!
(Looking back toward the slate mine from the hospital hill)
Friggin’ A! That would suck!
But I got some great photos of the mine and the Hospital on the hill they went to when they were unjustly injured in an unsafe work environment. The hospital museum was closed that day but it didn’t stop me from taking photos through the windows.
(The hospital on the hillside up from the slate works. The town is across the river/lake - where the town is, the river gets wide.)
The second evening at the YHA was much busier than the first evening. I returned from my day’s adventures around 3:30. Being that It was my second day at the YHA, I had the code to come and go as I please. Four German backpackers arrived about five minutes after me. I invited them to sit inside and wait for ponytail guy. They didn’t have a reservation and chose to sit outside at the picnic table. It was 8 degrees Celsius at th picnic table. Weirdos, I thought, staring out at them from the 22 degree lobby.
(Looking back at Llanberis from the hospital)
Five o’clock rolled around and so did a family of four with a sick dad, A mother and son, a young couple, a few others I don’t remember enough about to describe, and two Australian dudes. I know this because I was sitting In the lobby to pick up the weak wifi connection.
(This is the slate quarry. You can get get your PADI diving license in it!)
I thought my dorm room was going to be packed. I was wrong, the young Australian guys were the only ones in my room. One of them had a charger with four USB ports- that was great, being that we had one outlet. What wasn’t great was that he bugged me a bit. He was the guy who’d been there and done that, and was telling me and his buddy, who was also heading to Paris soon, where to go and what we HAD to do in Paris.
Talking with him reminded me off the Simpsons episode when Homer meets Billy Corrigan at Lollapaooza.
“Hi, Billy Corrigan, Smashim Pumpkins,”
Homer responds, “Homer Simpson, Smiling politely.”
I smiled politely through young Australian man’s suggestions. He had many about where I and his friend needed to get drunk and where to take chicks. “You need at least a week in Paris!”
Smiling politely, thinking, “I need as long as I feel like.”
“The louvre takes two days at least. You can’t miss the Egyptian section!”
Smiling politely, thinking, “Yeah, I can.”
“You gotta get drunk under the Eiffel Tower. You can Buy a cask of wine for five euros. Take a chick there.”
Smiling politely, thinking “Ok, maybe. But stop saying chicks like you bang a different one every 11 hours.” Still smiling politely.
The Australians left early in the morning before 6:00 A.M. I think the one dude had some early morning chicks to meet for wine.
I discovered a common room in the hostel I didn’t know existed on the first night. It had a fake fireplace. On the second night and morning, I visited it. It was the quietest common room I’ve ever experienced. The Mother and her adult son, the elderly married couple, and younger couple sat reading silently while drinking tea. It was quieter than a graduate student library at the college of the deaf. I kind of liked it.
(I love this shot. It looks like a scene from a heart medication commercial)
The trip to Buckfast Abbey the next day was too far, so I took the advice of ponytail guy and another hostel employee and went to Bristol. They said it was a nice town to visit. Upon my arrival, I had my doubts...
Next post- Bristol, Uk
!steemitworldmap 53.1207 lat 4.1153 long Slate Museum, Snowdonia, Wales, d3scr