Through Wales without a Tardis

Ah, Wales. The country with the most baffling language. I quickly discover that road signs in Cambrian are not for the faint of heart. The town of “Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch” (no joke) has the second longest location name in the world. The language was even used in the Bosnian conflict where a Welsh regiment used it as a way to “encrypt” communication.

Millennium Centre at Roald Dahl Plass in Cardiff.

Cardiff is the capital of Wales, but perhaps better known in some circles as the home of the Doctor. The city features the world’s only Doctor Who Exhibition, situated in the Bay. Locations such as Millennium Centre and Eddie’s Diner are featured in several episodes of BBC’s Doctor Who.

Since Dr Who was filmed in Wales, the surrounding area is full of familiar locations for the fans. The heartbreaking “Bad Wolf” bay is described in the series as located off Bergen in Norway, but in reality it’s Dunraven in Southerndown, just a thirty minutes drive to the west of Cardiff.

Dunraven Bay, featured in several seasons of Doctor Who.

Another interesting place close to Cardiff is Caerphilly, where the highlight is the old castle. Once I managed to get past the dragon at the entrance, the entire castle was mine to explore.

Caerphilly castle.

Traveling through the Wales countryside is like being on the set of a classic British crime show, where most of the white Tudor buildings seems to house a dark pub which smells of stale ale and even staler french fries. It’s cozy and repulsive at the same time. The locals are surprisingly friendly, even though they seem a bit surprised to have visitors.

Chase that horizon.

We drive in from the south, rain slicing the windshield, the kind of proper drizzle that seeps into your bones and makes you question your life choices. But that’s part of the charm here. The melancholia, the fog-draped valleys and the sense that something ancient and vaguely threatening might be watching from the mist.

Into the unknown.

The road slices through sheep-speckled hillsides and storybook towns where the pub doubles as the town square and time stands respectfully still. I half-expect to see a choir of druids to appear between stations, chanting in Welsh while stirring in blackened pots.

After a while, I surrender to the relaxed old-fashion sense and enjoy the rugged atmosphere. There’s so much to see that you would need a Tardis to see it all.