Cardiff, Wales (Wales Millennium Centre)

York (York Minster)

Chatsworth House, Derbyshire

Seville, Spain

Giant’s Causeway, Northern Ireland

Honorable mention: the Alhambra, Rockefeller Center, Florida

Then it will come as no surprise to you when I tell you about how we went to Cardiff for Stephan’s birthday.

That’s right, CARDIFF.

It’s the capital of Wales, people.

We had a fabulous time, but we didn’t do much, really, aside from lots of walking and eating. Like the walk down this section of the Taff Trail (that’s the River Taff on the left there) to where the eating was (this picture and the weather forecasts for heavy rain notwithstanding, we didn’t get rained on once and it was instead warmish and blue-skied all weekend):

The bit of the river path directly in front of the Millennium Stadium features little mosaics representing assorted countries:

I love how Scotland’s features what appears to be haggis, how the US’s greatest cultural contributions include the limousine and not one but two fast foods, and how they just phoned it in for Ireland—the fewest number of items, three of which are heraldic shields.

Moving swiftly on, this is my new favorite building ever, the Wales Millennium Centre:

The dome-y part is stainless steel treated with copper oxide and the rest of the facade is covered in layers of Welsh slate:

Across Roald Dahl Plass:

And from the boat tour we took around Cardiff Bay the next day (carousel and original Bute Docks building in foreground):

Pop Quiz: Can you spot the differences between these two photos?:

The correct answer is, of course, that the man in Photo A is 29 years old, and the man in Photo B is 30.

THIRTY.

You may have also noticed the giant cheeseburger that he is about to eat in Photo B, his first ever, of all time. Yes, my 93-percent vegan, 5-percent vegetarian, 2-percent pescetarian husband decided that what he wanted to eat most on his birthday was a nice juicy cheeseburger.

And he loved it. He is currently making plans for similar celebrations of future milestone birthdays: bacon when he’s 40, black pudding when he’s 50, and eventually working up to his 90th birthday and “food” that is served exclusively on the set of Fear Factor.

In related news, this is what Cardiff’s rubbish bins look like (the red dragon is the national emblem of Wales, and Cardiff is on the Severn Estuary):

Here we see yet another glaring example of Cardiff’s foolish decision to combat litter by providing adequate rubbish bins at frequent intervals, in direct contrast to London’s brilliant scheme to do the exact opposite.

It really was one of our best trips ever, aside from our disappointingly overrated (and incredibly difficult to find) hotel, a difficulty that was only aggravated by the fact that essentially every road in the country, including the motorway, was closed for construction.

But entirely made up for by:

(Advertisements for SA Brain & Co. brewery, founded 1882)

First off, in case you were worried about the resinous secretions mentioned in the last post NEVER FEAR: UK Skittles are back to being glazed with carnauba wax, like normal people.

Moving swiftly on to this sign that I found by the steam engine at the National Slate Museum:

And then this one at Birdoswald Fort on Hadrian’s Wall:

No, it wasn’t me, but I too would have been hard pressed to refrain from such helpful and edifying vandalism.

It all started with Hay-on-Wye, a lovely town on the Welsh border that’s like the king of second-hand bookstores. The only problem is that the aforementioned Stephan hates bookstores, or at least hates how much time I spend in them. So I figured I’d have to play the birthday card for a Hay-on-Wye trip, and my birthday is in December, so we’ll pretty much always be back in the U.S. for it.

Enter the half-birthday! Imagine Stephan’s delight when we spent less than the allotted time, money, and quota of books than planned. I’m glad that we went, but I’d still take Powell’s any day.

We camped overnight at a private campground next to a creek perfect for cooling our tiny-little-baby-bottles-of-Coke.

We watched James Bond in the car and played Rook, which I lost magnificently. The campsite also featured five free range ducks who live in here:

when they are not busy waddling to the creek and back, in a row, as fast as their little duck legs can carry them. Also, a rooster.

We stopped on the way home for a walk and cream tea and then I spent a few hours tidying up the garden like I’ve been telling Stephan I would since we moved in here.

Our final excursion was a short trip out to the canal to see if the ducks would eat the hashbrowns we don’t like as well as the kind from Costco.

Little known fact: the duck is not a fan of the potato. Of course there was the added difficulty of the hashbrowns not actually floating, so they had to be speedier than normal, but then it was “[nibble, nibble, nibble] PATOOIE,” and they would turn around and hightail it out of there. I’ve never seen ducks actually turn away from a potential source of food before.

Then Stephan remembered the moorhens and how “those little guys will eat anything!” and he was right. They actually fought over our offerings. The parent would catch it (see: sinking) and then try to pass it to one of the babies, who would then drop it, so the parent would dive in after it again. Eventually a baby would get a hold of it and swim away as fast as it could so it wouldn’t have to share, all the while trying to swallow a piece of potato as big as its head. We thought one of the more aggressive ones may have choked to death, but he turned out okay after all.

And then I wiped the proverbial Rook floor with Stephan.

Happy half-birthday to me.

National Portrait Gallery which, among other things, houses all of those portraits of Henry VIII’s wives that you see in books and never actually realized were real, also this one that I inexplicably love.

Imperial War Museum was disturbing on several levels, even with skipping the Holocaust and crimes against humanity exhibits, but I do love the old posters:

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Tower Bridge, which featured a thrilling and historical video reenactment of a committee discussion and very helpful and informative guides who told us that the bridge is painted every 5 years, and is scraped back to the metal every (insert larger number here) years, though they are making an off-schedule exception to spruce things up for 2012 (London Olympics and the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee).

Saw Young Victoria in a theater just up the street from Kensington Palace and experienced the concessionary joy that is pick ‘n’ mix.

National History Museum, aka strong contender for most beautiful building ever, for the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibit:

Science Museum, Stephan’s new love and one that I was wholly anticipating not liking all that much, but then I hung out in the history of mathematics exhibit (I know, right?) and learned how to use a slide rule and about how Charles Babbage’s Difference Engine (i.e., first computer) didn’t perform its first error-free calculation until some other smart people modified it to do so in honor of his 200th birthday (1991).

Monument to the Great Fire of London, world’s tallest freestanding stone column (202 feet), built to commemorate the Great Fire and, sneakily, to double as a scientific observatory—for example, each of the 311 steps was built exactly 6 inches tall for sneaky barometric pressure studying purposes.

Kensington Gardens/Hyde Park, home to the slightly ridiculous Animals in War Memorial, which, yeah, I get it: “They Had No Choice,” but seriously—while I like animals (especially the cute kind) as much as the next person, I can’t help but think of several much better ways to spend £1.4 million, maybe even to help animals that are currently alive (note: I have no such issues with memorializing, you know, actual people).

The most innocuous Starbucks of all time, on our long-way-round walk to Westminster Bridge:

Chirk Castle, site of my first real-life “ha-ha,” a landscaping feature that is basically a ditch sloping down to the bottom of a fence whose top is level with the ground on the other side—the garden side can’t see the fence, but the sheep (or whatever) on the other side can’t get over it without a concerted effort and/or running leap (note: not likely).

Snowdon Horseshoe, Wales’ highest mountain and the ridge walk/scramble on either side of it (well, kind of—we somehow missed the turnoff to the first half of the ridge, so we ended up taking the trail beneath it):

Scafell Pike, England’s highest point and whose ascent inspired my new hiking goal of Making It To The Top Before The Smoker I’ve Been Pacing:

Glencoe, site of the Glencoe Massacre (of MacDonalds, by Campbells) during the Jacobite Risings. Also the site of where I bought a real cute coin purse in the gift shop (green flavor):

Rare Breed Croft, featuring all sorts of tiny baby sheep and a Highland cow named Katie.

Eilean Donan Castle, which we didn’t actually visit, but we stayed in a hotel across the street (and a field, and car park, and some water) from it—it’s not quite as isolated as the assorted movies that feature it would like you to believe, though it does take some doing to get to that part of Scotland:

Armadale Castle + Museum of the Isles on the Isle of Skye, which I have a feeling will be seeing a lot more of us (the isle, that is).

Witnessed a car accident that involved the car in question swerving into our lane, overcorrecting, launching off a boulder on its own side of the road, flipping over in the air, and landing on its back/trunk before finally coming to a stop facing the road right side up–like something out of a movie, only in the movies you never see the results because these sorts of things only happen to whomever is chasing the good guy, so I half expected the car to be unmanned. It wasn’t. The driver is presumably in hospital somewhere.

Edinburgh Castle, featuring a mural on the way to view the Honours of Scotland that includes, near the bottom, a tiny gnome peeing on the leg of a stool.

Alnwick Castle + Gardens, home of the Duke of Northumberland and family, whose wealth, according to the New York Times includes “120,000 acres of land, 171 tenant farms and 700 houses and cottages, along with Alnwick Castle, with its collections of Meissen china, Louis XIV furniture and paintings by Titian, Caneletto and Van Dyke. According to The Sunday Times of London, the duke is the 270th richest person in Britain, with a fortune estimated at £300 million.” Which is why I personally am not a big fan of being asked for an additional £1 pound donation to the garden charity, whatever that does, in addition to the £17.50 I’m already paying for the privilege of visiting. Seriously.

Chesters Roman Fort + Hadrian’s Wall, featuring an early example of radiated floor heating:

That’s all so far! We’re off for walkies and our first Shugborough visit of the season.

We drove across all of Wales and happened to make a pit stop in lovely Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch (longest officially recognized place name in the UK and one of the longest in the world).

On to South Stack Lighthouse, located on a wee island off the coast of Holy Island, off the coast of the Isle of Anglesey, off the coast of Wales, which happens to be on an island off the coast of Europe.

Pop Quiz: Match the pictures below to their location and date:

1. Wales, September 2008
2. Maui, November 2006

It was here that we had an important lesson in Welsh, when Stephan decided that “Clogwyn!” meant “Danger!” and proceeded to shout it at me whenever he thought I was getting too close to the edge. (On further investigation, we’re pretty sure it means “cliff,” so though technically incorrect, it was equally applicable.)

The next day we climbed up to the top of Glyder Fawr, which at 999 meters is one of Wales’ highest “mountains.” An excellent hike, all except for that one part when (note to Amy and others with eye-related squeamishness: maybe just skip directly to the photo) a bug kamikazed into Stephan’s personal eyeball, and having left all our mirrors at home due to a tragic lack of cosmetic foresight, I got to remove it for him with my personal finger(s). Ah, love. And desensitization via contact lens use.

Once again, better/more pictures will only become available upon increased harassment of Stephan.