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A true story from Wales

In the ruins of the old Roman fort called Caer Gybi stands the 13th century Saint Cybi’s Church. A sundial on the face of the chapel is inscribed in Latin, “Life though long it stay will end in night and day.” (Thank you, Wikipedia.)

Saint Cybi

As we explore the medieval grounds a middle-aged Welsh couple approaches and the man warmly asks “Are you locals?”

The woman’s name is Ann, we learn. The man’s name will remain a mystery, after two repetitions and my unsuccessful attempts to say it back he kindly lied “Yes, you got it!”

We continued to chat, with a few more linguistic puzzles being brought forth, then Man offered us a religious tract. “We are Christians,” he said, then clarified when asked, that they are not members of the church where our impromptu meeting was occurring.


I immediately remembered the Hare Krishna we met on Portobello Road and offered one of our Bucktown buttons (“badges,” they call them here) in exchange. This time, it was accepted.

Later, in the town of Holyhead, we see Man and Ann across the street. We exchange waved hellos.

A true story from Dublin

The Temple Bar
(Dublin, August 1, 2019, early afternoon)

A tall slender dark-haired woman with exotic eyes rises from a previously unnoticed floor trap in front of the beer spigots. Her sudden graceful and seemingly unannounced ascent, not unlike Salacia rising from the sea, surprises all the patrons crowded around the bar top. She, as well as her coworkers, are unperturbed as she quietly closes the hole in the floor and begins to draw an ale.

In the corner of the room, a singer plays on.