And almost as soon as we got to the top, it rained, really hard.
But we found the burial mounds and stood proudly for photos, drenched and chilly.
After the quick downpour though, the sun came out and invigorated our inner children. So we did what anyone would do. We found cows and performed various acrobatics.
We became quite fixated on this sunburst. Watched it for a long time. "Oh look at the colors!" "Oh look how Cardiff is half covered by clouds!" "Oh look at the baby cow!" "Maybe Jesus is coming." etc
By the time we peeled our eyes from the sky and climbed back down the mountain, we had missed our bus back into town. No worries. There was another one at 8:00. We walked through the little town and found what seemed to be the only place still open, a little pub called Lewis Arms.
Inside was the 60 year old bartender and one other man who was probably his best childhood friend. They just looked at us. "What'll y'ave?" he asked us. They were both very friendly and asked us about the states and told their own stories.
Here, I mistakenly had a pint of a very manly ale. This was partially because I felt I had to get something since we were loitering here but also because the bartender more or less challenged me. "A whole pint she'll drink will she?" he said to Lukas. "Hey!" I shouted, "I'm tougher than I look!". And so I did and I accompanied it with a bag a chips, excuse me, crisps, who's mascot looks an awful lot like Lukas's Dad.
I say mistakenly about this pint because you should never drink out of peer pressure but mostly I regret this because I have never, IN MY LIFE, had to use the bathroom as badly as I did on the bus ride back into town. It was excruciating. It felt like there was ferret in my bladder trying to dig and gnaw it's way out. I couldn't stand. I couldn't breathe too deeply. "Don't make me laugh!" I hissed at Lukas.
Each bump and rattle of the roaring, vibrating city bus shook my bladder and made my heart skip a beat. I did not try to hide my moans of agony. In my mind, this was a serious medical condition. I found the situation so dire that I even alerted another passenger as to my troubles. I was warning other people.
There has been only one other occasion like this in my life. Ironically, I was on a bus in Ireland. Ari and Jared were with me, laughing and cackling, while I was curled in a ball, rolling around in agony. I remember honestly considering stuffing my sweater down into my pants, going, and then putting my sweater in a bag. It had come to that. Ari found this idea riotous and her own cackling sent shivers up my spine. There is nothing funny about that pain.
We were so close but so far. The bus stop is directly in front of Lukas's apartment building. If we could just get there, I could go right inside. Lukas watched me with concerned entertainment, like watching a fat person run an obstacle course. Lukas actually had to help hoist me out of my bus seat when we finally arrived. I staggered off of the bus in a pain blackout while Lukas dug around for his keys. "Move! Move! Move!" I shouted to Lukas, like the head of a SWAT team intervention. He ran ahead to unlock doors while I waddled down the hallway like John Wayne.
I experienced the true definition of relief once I made it inside and was instantly snapped back into my cheerful and bouncy disposition. Amazing how fast that happens. I've tied this experience into life lessons about simple fixes and recovery periods. Now I know why Mom taught me to "try" before I leave the house.
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