Today, Kristin's friend Diane - a British ex-pat - took me to the town of Wales, Mass. There's nothing particularly special about Wales, Mass but I wanted to be able to say I'd gone there!
Diane lives in the town of Oxford, which is about a twenty-five minute drive from Northbridge. I'd resolved to get there under my own steam; no easy task considering I've previously only driven on actual roads a total of four times, under careful supervision and for very short distances. Actually, I think my previous fears were just that - completely in my head - as I completed the journey (even navigating lucky dip truck drivers doing silly things) with ease, feeling relatively relaxed and enjoying both the sunshine and the aural delights being delivered to me courtesy of WAAF FM: Disturbed, The Offspring, Metallica and Godsmack.
Diane's home is stunning - set on a corner plot of a peaceful lane, it is surrounded by beautifully landscaped gardens, with a small waterfall cascading towards the decking area. Inside it is lovely and light and airy, with white walls, natural wood and neutral furnishings. She has a cat who could be the twin of my Willow - grey and white, with a dainty face. It is a peaceful home and I instantly felt relaxed there.
Diane drove us to the historic town of Sturbridge for lunch and then onto Wales itself. Most locals don't actually seem to know much about Wales; I guess there's not really any need for them to go there. It is, in actual fact, a rather pleasant little town (although, geographically, it's really not that small). Most towns here look rather alike: they have a centre which consists of a green (either sporting a bandstand or a flagpole); a town hall; a library and at least one (probably white slatted and very pretty) church. From this centre, roads spread in every direction. They will probably lead to a school, a police station and many, many forested roads dotted with large slatted houses, all individual yet also somehow rather alike. Wales is no exception to this. It even has its own lake with natural beach, which is another common feature of the towns here.
The only thing seemingly lacking from Wales was a shopping area or eating establishments (most towns have a smattering of pizza places/ a Dunkin' Donuts/ McDonald's/ Burger King/ a quirky cafe and/ or diner plus a small retail park, akin to Newport Road in the 'diff, or those in Merthyr or Cwmbran. Not that I minded this: unlike most of my gender, I hate shopping!
Diane and I explored the local cemetary, looking for Welsh names and concluded that the town had, in actual fact, acquired its name from a founder called Mr Wales (as there was a gravestone engraved with this very name). We also found a family plot reminiscent of the opening to Great Expectations: the graves of a mother and father, next to five small stones - those of their infant children.
After a delicious meal with Diane and her husband, I navigated my way back to Northbridge - in the dark and via a gas station, where a pump attendant filled my tank for me! I found it hard to get away from the attendant as he seemed fascinated by my reason for being there (as in, in New England, as opposed to in the gas station filling my car with petrol), asking me endless questions. I left to his assurances that I was going to be brilliant teaching here and his best wishes. Driving home also went smoothly; the roads seemed very like those back home in the dark. And, of course, I had a further dose of aural pleasure. Good times!
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