I was not alone in experiencing the joy of Welsh hospitality as two of my American flatmates came with Aimee and me as well. We were all excited about going to someone’s house, having been cooped up on campus for quite some time. Also, there is nothing like a house that makes one feel comfortable and relaxed. Immediately upon our arrival, we were ushered inside and offered a choice of tea, coffee, or hot cocoa. Although it was rather chilly outside, I declined since I did not want to inconvenience my host. (It turns out that it would not be an inconvenience at all, but I stuck with my original decision, and it was definitely not the last time that I was offered something warm to drink.) Instead of having a drink, I turned my attention to Aimee’s adorable dog, Bob, who ran around the house excitedly at the prospect of having a new audience. Watching Bob chase a ball reminded me just how much I missed my animals back home and for the first time of many throughout the weekend, I felt a wave of homesickness wash over me.
Within an hour of our arrival, a delicious lunch of pea soup and buttered bread was served. Although pea soup may not sound appetizing to most people, it was one of the best things that I had eaten since arriving in Wales, and it filled me up quite nicely. Having a home-cooked meal after about three months of living off of cafeteria food seems almost like a luxury item, and I was quietly thinking to myself just how jealous I would be if it were someone else eating the soup rather than me. A bit of a petty thought, but it re-emphasized just how lucky I was to be here. For dessert, we ate mincemeat tarts, which I have never tried. It is true that there is something to be said about trying new things.
After lunch, Aimee’s parents took us, along with Bob, to the beach for a nice leisurely stroll. When we arrived, the sky was steel grey with clouds threatening to open up in a heartbeat and pour their contents upon us unmercifully. The wind was blowing so hard I felt that I would be knocked over. The temperature could not have been higher than 50. Despite all this, I cannot imagine a better way to have spent our Saturday afternoon. I enjoyed a nice, peaceful walk in which I was able to talk to Aimee’s mother about the area in which she grew up. It was nice to hear something about Wales that came not from a text book, but rather from someone with personal experience. I felt so at home with Aimee’s parents that conversation with them came easily. For the first time in a really long time, I felt like I belonged--that I was at home. Nothing really compares to the feeling, and I never realized how much I have missed that feeling until this weekend.
As the weekend progressed, we received our fill of delicious Welsh food (including the infamous Welsh cakes which are surprisingly easy to make and even easier to eat), and entertaining conversations. However, I think that even though these things are an important part of Welsh hospitality, the simple walk on the beach exemplified all that Welsh hospitality is made out to be. Simply put, it is the ability to make someone feel at home despite the fact that they are thousands of miles away. To have been able to experience this makes me feel so fortunate, and there are not enough words of thanks for Aimee and her parents for allowing the great pleasure of spending two days in a Welsh household.
