Chapter 7 (First part) CORNWALL

During my holiday in Wales, I saw a competition in a travel magazine.

One of the categories was to write an article about a coastal area in Europe.

I wanted to write about somewhere in Britain, so I phoned Gareth to ask him for ideas on where to go.

"You could go to Cornwall," he said.

"It's a remote area in the south-west corner of Britain.

It has a beautiful [1]coastline, a lot of small [2]seaside towns and very dramatic scenery.

It's also rich in folklore and myths.

It's a great place to write about and it will be an opportunity for you to see another part of Britain."

I was convinced.

I bought a book about Cornwall and decided to start my trip along the coast in a town called Bude.

According[3] to the description in the book, Bude was a small enchanting[4], seaside town.

I reserved a room in one of its little hotels and then at 8 o'clock I went to a pub to have some dinner.

The inside of the pub looked as if it hadn't changed for hundreds of years.

The walls were stone and all the tables and chairs were made of dark wood.

There was an empty table next to the fireplace and I sat down to enjoy a peaceful dinner.

As I was finishing my meal, an old man approached the table and asked if he could share it with me.

I looked around and saw that all the other tables were occupied.

I invited him to sit with me and soon discovered that I was very lucky to have met him.

His name was Richard and he seemed to know everything about Cornwall, its history and its myths.

"Most of the legends here are about Giants and Piskies," he began.

"Wait a minute," I interrupted.

"I know what Giants are, but what are Piskies?"

"Piskies were little old men, two centimetres tall, who were all identical," said Richard.

"They were good people who helped the old.

However, they also liked to play jokes on people."

Richard's stories were fascinating and it seemed like only fifteen minutes had passed and not three hours when the pub owner announced that it was closing time.

"It's been a pleasure talking to you tonight.

Thank you," I said to Richard, as we stood outside the pub.

Thank you for listening to an old man's stories," he replied.

Richard smiled, shook my hand and walked away.

Although I never saw him again, Richard and his stories accompanied me throughout the rest of my trip through Conrwall.

I remembered one of the stories when I arrived in Poundstock the following day.

"There's an old church in a little village called Poundstock," Richard had told me.

"In the 14th century, a man called William Penfold was the priest of the church.

Although he was a priest, he was also a member of a group of pirates that attacked ships leaving the area.

Eventually, William Penfold had a fight with the rest of the pirates and left the group."

"Is that the end of the story?" I asked.

"No. A short time later, the pirates interrupted a Mass that William Penfold was giving in his church.

They brutally murdered him on the altar."

"What a horrible story!" I exclaimed.

"It's so violent!"

"There's more," continued Richard.

"People say that his ghost still haunts the church."

Words can't describe what I felt as I walked through the empty church remembering Richard's story.

It was very quiet and cold in the church and it was easy to imagine Penfold's screams as he was being murdered.

It was good to go outside again, into the warm sun.

I sat down next to the car and looked at my map.

I decided that the next day I would go to Tingagel Castle, home of the legendary King Arthur.

Summary: In this part of the chapter, Antonio tell us how he saw a competition about a coastal area in Europe in a travel magazine  and decided to write an article about Cornwall, a remote area in the south-west corner of Britain. "It's decided to start his trip along the coast in a town called Bude. There he knew an old man, Richard who seemed to know everything about Cornwall, its history and its myths.

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[1] Coastline=litoral

[2] seaside towns= pueblos costeros

[3] According= Según

[4] According= encantador

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Durante mis vacaciones en Gales, vi un concurso en una revista de viaje. Una de las categorías era escribir un artículo sobre un área costera en Europa. Quise escribir sobre alguna parte de (Gran) Bretaña, así que yo telefoneé a Gareth para pedirle ideas a dónde ir. "Podrías ir a Cornwall," me dijo. "Es un área remota en la esquina del sur-oeste de (Gran) Bretaña. Tiene un bonito litoral, muchos pequeños pueblos costeros y un paisaje muy dramático. También es rico en folklore y mitos. Es un gran lugar sobre el que escribir y será una oportunidad para tí ver otra parte de (Gran) Bretaña." Estaba convencido. Compré un libro sobre Cornwall y decidí empezar mi viaje a lo largo de la costa en un pueblo llamado Bude. Según la descripción en el libro, Bude era un pequeño y encantador pueblo costero. Alquilé un coche y conduje hacia Bude. Reservé un cuarto en uno de sus pequeños hoteles y luego a las 8 fui a una taberna para cenar. Dentro de la taberna parecia como si nada hubiera cambiado durante centenares de años. Las paredes estaban hechas de piedra y todas las mesas y sillas de madera oscura. Había una mesa vacía al lado del hogar y me senté para disfrutar de una pacífica cena. Cuando yo estaba terminando mi comida, un viejo se acercó a la mesa y me preguntó si podía compartirla conmigo. Yo eché una mirada alrededor y vi que todas las otras mesas estaban ocupadas. Lo invité a sentarse conmigo y pronto descubrí que tuve mucha suerte de haberlo conocido. Su nombre era Richard y él parecía saber todo sobre Cornwall, su historia y sus mitos. "La mayoría de las leyendas de aquí son sobre los Gigantes y Piskies," comenzó. "Espere un minuto," interrumpí. "¿Yo sé qué son los Gigantes, pero que son Piskies?" "Piskies eran pequeños hombres viejos, dos centímetros de alto, que eran todos idénticos," dijo Richard. "Ellos eran buenas personas que ayudaban a los viejos. Sin embargo, les gustaba también gastar bromas a la gente." Las historias de Richard eran fascinantes y parecía que habían pasado sólo quince minutos y no tres horas cuando el dueño de la taberna anunció que era hora de cerrar. "Es un placer hablar esta noche con usted. Gracias," le dije a Richard, cuando nosotros estábamos (de pie) fuera de la taberna. Gracias por escuchar las historias de un viejo," contestó. Richard sonrió, chocó mi mano y se alejó. Aunque nunca lo volví a ver de nuevo, Richard y sus historias me acompañaron a lo largo del resto de mi viaje a través de Conrwall. Recordé una de las historias cuando llegué a Poundstock al día siguiente. "Hay una vieja iglesia en un pequeño pueblo llamado Poundstock," Richard me lo había contado. "En el siglo 14, un hombre llamado William Penfold era el sacerdote de la iglesia. Aunque él era sacerdote, también era un miembro de un grupo de piratas que atacaban naves que abandonaban la zona. Finalmente, William Penfold tuvo una lucha con el resto de los piratas y abandonó el grupo." "¿Es ese el fin de la historia?" pregunté. "No. Un tiempo corto después, los piratas interrumpieron una Misa que William Penfold estaba dando en su iglesia. Lo asesinaron brutalmente en el altar." "¡Que historia ten horrible!" exclamé. "¡Es tan violenta!" "Hay más," Richard continuó. "Las personas dicen que su fantasma todavía frecuenta la iglesia." Las palabras no pueden describir lo que sentía cuando atravesé la iglesia vacía recordando la historia de Richard. Estaba muy callado y frío en la iglesia y era fácil imaginar los gritos de Penfold cuando él estaba siendo asesinando. Fue bueno salir de nuevo fuera, al sol caluroso. Me senté al lado del coche y miré mi mapa. Decidí que al día siguiente iría a Tingagel Castle, casa del Rey legendario Arturo.