Brecon Beacons National Park, Wales
Almost four weeks ago I left Paris and reached the White Cliffs of Dover by ferry. That rainy morning on 27 July the wind blew over the Channel as if mother nature was unhappy with me. My mind raced with anticipation.
Two weeks at St. Antony's College were filled with cheers, engaging talks, new friends, good mates, hopes for the future, and unwilling goodbyes. Oxford treated me well and I didn't want to say farewell. On came Wales, with her fire breathing dragon and her gentle people. Of an uncertain night in Cardiff ending with the superb hospitality of a Welsh policeman, of kind travelers who stopped to give a lift to a perfect stranger stranded at the side of the road, and an elegant Swansea lady who put her soul and her fortune into the memories of a poet.
The Turf Tavern