Pontypool

After I left Cardiff, I went to Pontypool, which is where we think my dad's family is descended from.
I stayed with a really lovely family who welcomed me as one of their own. We wandered the canals and walkways, they invited me to dinner every night, and made sure that I got where I needed to be.
 Pontypool used to be a thriving mining town, but when the mines shut down, the town dried up. Now it's kind of depressing, no new money flowing into the town. Still gorgeous though.

So my main focus was family history, and specifically the St. Cadoc's church. I found it, on top of a very steep hill. The church itself is ancient, and the graveyard surrounding it. It's poorly kept though, wildly overgrown to where berry bushes are swallowing headstones, some are knocked over, and most are illegible. It was an amazing place, very humbling with the thought that eventually even a marker of our death fades away. 

 The yard was overcrowded and it was impossible to tell where there was a headstone since the grass was so thick. One step might be springy earth, the next would be hard stone marking a grave. It was awesome until I envisioned an ancient bony hand reaching up through the earth to grab my ankle.

I didn't go inside the church, but it looked wonderful from the outside, with lots of stained glass.
After the church, I went to the local family history people and found out that the records I needed were in an archive in Ebbw Vale, a few miles north. So I hopped on a bus and sat for hours scrolling through microfilm for the names.
After my search I wandered through Pontypool Park. Again, the land was originally owned by the owner of the mills and so the park was his private garden. After a few centuries the family gave it to the public. I wandered the paths for hours and hours.

The time I spent in Pontypool was enjoyable and amazing.
Next: Bath, England

Nita