That I could drive for a couple hours, cross a bridge and be in another country is a concept so fascinating as to be mind-boggling. Of course, some will tell you that Wales is not, in fact, a separate country, but none of them is Welsh.
And yes, everything in Wales has two names. Every street sign is in both Welsh (which is a strange amalgamation of English, Gaelic and French, but with fewer vowels) and English. I assume after a while one learns which signs are pointing to one city with two names (Swansea/Abertawe, for example) and which are, in fact, pointing to two different cities. But I'd guess it takes time.
My aunt and uncle couldn't have been more welcoming, especially considering they hadn't seen me since I was about 4 feet tall. They insist I still look the same; I'm not sure just how I feel about that.
Pictures? OK.
Citrus: It's not just for Floridians anymore. An orange tree at Aberglasney, a restored medieval house and garden.
Garden in the shape of a Celtic cross. 
A GoingHomefortheFirstTime rarity. Me with my Uncle Greg. Why do those look like 90s jeans? I swear they're not.
No really. That's a real road. Signposted and everything. I took this photo at the urging of my uncle, who made my stepfather drive down it on his first visit to Wales. Hilarity, apparently, ensued. 
Mervin the dog. Would that be Merwyn in Welsh? Merwn? Mrwn? In any event, Mervin is ... special.
Brecon Beacons National Park. It's best not to be in a hurry. This guy wasn't. 
How many dogs do YOU know with their own lunchbox? I told you he was special.
Llyn Bryanne Dam. Remind anyone else of the Pacific Northwest?
No, really. It's best not to be in a hurry. This lasted a good two minutes. 
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