HAPPY HOLIDAYS 2022: Favorite Danish Christmas Plates

Danish Christmas Plate by Bing and Grondahl, 1967

My husband Art’s aunt, Carolyn T. Arnold, was a world traveler and brought home many souvenirs from her trips, both for herself and gifts for her family. She loved going to Denmark and was especially fond of the Danish porcelain Christmas plates, developing a large collection. In her house they decorated the walls of her living room, lined up in chronological order.

1967, Child With Bird Feeder; 1970, Pheasants in the Snow at Christmas; 1972, Christmas in Greenland

We were the recipients of three Danish plates from Aunt Carolyn: 1967, commemorating our wedding year; 1970 and 1972, for the births of our children. The three plates now hang in our kitchen where I can see them every day of the year.

At the Royal Copenhagen Store, Copenhagen

On our recent trip to Copenhagen, we were delighted to find our plates displayed in the Royal Copenhagen shop along with the more than 100 porcelain Christmas plates designed by Bing and Grondahl. (In 1987, Bing and Grondahl merged with the Royal Porcelain Factory to become Royal Copenhagen.)

In her retirement Aunt Carolyn wrote of her travel adventures in her memoir. Many excerpts from her memoir have appeared at The Intrepid Tourist. As we celebrate this holiday season we remember Aunt Carolyn and the joy of traveling and learning about the world. I send best wishes to all of you for a very

HAPPY HOLIDAY

and

JOYOUS NEW YEAR!

 

 

AN EXCHANGE TEACHER IN WALES, 1953-54: From the Memoir of Carolyn T. Arnold, at The Intrepid Tourist

Wales. Welcome to Mold.

Perhaps the original intrepid tourist was Carolyn Arnold, my husband’s aunt.  A single school teacher in Des Moines, she began traveling abroad when she was in her forties, beginning with a bicycling trip through Ireland in 1950.  She went on from there to spend a year as a Fulbright Exchange Teacher in Wales (1953-54), to more trips to Europe and beyond, and eventually became a tour leader, taking all her nieces and nephews (including my husband Art) on her travels.  When she retired from teaching, she wrote of her experiences in a memoir called Up and Down and Around the World with Carrie.  Today, as I read of her travels, I marvel at her spirit of adventure at a time when women did not have the independence they do today.
In TIT post 10/7/2013 Aunt Carolyn described her arrival in Wales, in the small town of Mold where she would be teaching in the grammar school for a year. The piece below describes her living situation during her year of teaching there.

On the second Saturday morning after my arrival in Wales, I went to Mold to find a place to live. I wanted to be part of the community where I would be teaching.  On the street I met Mr. Ledbetter, head of the English Department. He said, “Oh, I know just the place for you. Miss Wotton often takes people in.” Just then, Miss Wotton came along and stopped to chat. Yes, she would take me. Her elderly father would be glad of the company. Miss Wotton and her father lived in the south half of a brick duplex, or as they say, “semi-detached.” The house, as others, did not have a number and had been given a name when it was built. Our house name was “Y Llwyn.”

Miss Wooten’s  father, whom I learned to call Gran, was a tall erect man, very active for his 90 years. He even mowed the lawn. Later, I found that every evening about eight o’clock, he would take his hat and cane and walk along to his favorite pub, have a glass of Guinness, a game of darts, perhaps, and be home within the hour.

I found renting a room included a “sitting room” and high tea soon after I returned from school. It usually consisted of something hot, perhaps a lamb chop, plus sandwiches, dessert, and hot tea–all for $35 a month. I loved it there except for one thing. There was no heat in the bedroom or bathroom. As winter came on, I was very uncomfortable in the bedroom, and as for the bathroom, imagine that without heat! I knew electricity was expensive, and I was not paying much. I asked Miss Wooten–I soon learned to call her Muriel–why there was no heat in the fireplace in the bedroom. She said that the fireplace had not been used since before the War, and she was afraid a fire would light the soot and other material in the chimney. They burned coal in the fireplace downstairs, in my sitting room, and in the kitchen. Her brother, John, who lived in Liverpool, arranged for an electric fire (heater) as they were very scarce at the time. I could use that for a half-hour before bedtime and a half-hour in the morning for an extra pound a month, about $2.80.

Muriel is a sociable person and I owe much to her in getting acquainted with people in town. The Welsh are still very clannish and do not appear to be friendly to strangers, but once one is accepted, there are no more friendly and helpful people than the Welsh. By the end of the year I had drunk gallons of tea at the homes of friends and of my pupils.

Landscape near Mold

Through Muriel I met many more people than I would have met otherwise. Her friends Griff and Chrissy Williams lived near a small village called Gwnymyedd about two miles up the hill from Mold on a farm called “Tros-y-Wern.” Their home is a very old stone building, rectangular in shape with a chimney at each end, which is characteristic of many old farmhouses. The ceiling beams were refinished and glowed with polish. The windows are 18 inches deep, saying something of the thickness of the walls and age of the building. The kitchen has a large fireplace and is large enough for a dining room too. In the scullery is a stove, but both the kitchen fireplace and scullery stove are used for cooking. The floor is tiled, making it easy to clean, for the farm workers ate in the kitchen. There is a fireplace in every room in the house, including the sitting room, the parlor, and the upstairs. Chrissy and Griff became my friends too.

I learned the size of the average farm in Wales is 80 acres, much of it usually too hilly or rough to be arable, so sheep raising is a major part of farming. The Williams had lived at Tros-y-Wern for many years so I was surprised when Muriel told me they did not own the land. It was part of an estate of some lord and could not be sold. Shortly after I left Wales, I learned the lord had died, and Griff bought the land. He divided it into plots and built bungalows. They sold the lovely Tros-y-Wern and moved into one of the new bungalows.

All text and photos, copyright Caroline Arnold.  www.theintrepidtourist.blogspot.com 

CAMELS AND ANCIENT KINGS: Trip to Egypt from Aunt Carolyn's Memoir

Carolyn T. Arnold at Luxor, Egypt, August 1963

My husband's Aunt Carolyn was an intrepid tourist, first on her own and then as a tour group leader. This is an excerpt from her memoir, recalling a trip to Egypt in the summer of 1963.

My group flew to Cairo one year. After spending some time in Cairo, we flew to Luxor to see the Valley of the Pharaohs and King Tut’s tomb as well as tombs of lesser nobles. It was extremely hot in the desert, but we sat in the shade of a small rest house while our guide told us of the discovery of King Tut’s tomb and other stories of the Valley of the Queens and of the old city of Thebes.

On the other side of the river we visited the magnificent ruins of ancient Karnak, excavated more than one hundred years ago. They were situated only a short distance from our hotel, but it was traditional to ride to the site in old-fashioned horse-drawn buggies. So, of course, we rode to the site, two or three to a buggy. We made quite a caravan. When we returned many children lined the road shouting and clapping their hands. I asked the driver what they were saying. He replied, “They were saying, ‘Hello Father!’” We thought they were clapping for us!

That evening I suggested a ride in a felucca--a small sailboat--on the Nile River at sunset. The guide offered to recruit several feluccas for us at $3.00 each. I should have remembered that since this was his first asking price, I should have bargained. Still, it was delightful on the river with the farmers and donkeys on the opposite bank silhouetted against a glorious red and gold sunset.

Later, back in Cairo, while waiting for our plane at the airport, we recalled the pleasant time we had in Egypt–the dinner at the hotel with the belly dancer and fortune teller, the visit to the pyramids and the Sphinx. We laughed about our camel ride. One mounts while the camel is sitting with legs folded under. After one is seated in the broad wooden saddle, the camel starts to rise, first on the front feet, which swings the rider violently back. Then, the rear feet unfold, which jerks the rider forward. There were many squeals as we climbed onto our saddles. A “driver” walks down the road beside each camel and rider on the way to the Sphinx. Once the driver asked me if I wanted to hold the reins. I agreed, as it was something to hold on to. Immediately, my camel took off at a gallop away from the road toward the desert. Smart animal, it knew a greenhorn was aboard! My screams were loud. I expected to become lost on the endless desert with that mean animal. However, the driver called the camel. It did smirk, the arrogant creature.

Perhaps the original intrepid tourist was Carolyn Arnold, my husband’s aunt.  A single school teacher in Des Moines, she began traveling abroad when she was in her forties, beginning with a bicycling trip through Ireland in 1950.  She went on from there to spend a year as a Fulbright Exchange Teacher in Wales, to more trips to Europe and beyond, and eventually became a tour leader, taking all her nieces and nephews (including Art) on her travels.  When she retired from teaching, she wrote of her experiences in a memoir called Up and Down and Around the World with Carrie.  Today, as I read of her travels, I marvel at her spirit of adventure at a time when women did not have the independence they do today. A number of excerpts from her memoir have appeared on The Intrepid Tourist. You can find them by searching for "Aunt Carolyn" in the Index.

SPRINGTIME IN WALES, from the Memoir of Aunt Carolyn

Clwydian Range from Cileaire, Wales

Perhaps the original intrepid tourist was Carolyn Arnold, my husband’s aunt.  A single school teacher in Des Moines, she began traveling abroad when she was in her forties, beginning with a bicycling trip through Ireland in 1950.  She went on from there to spend a year as a Fulbright Exchange Teacher in Wales, to more trips to Europe and beyond, and eventually became a tour leader, taking all her nieces and nephews (including my husband Art) on her travels.  When she retired from teaching, she wrote of her experiences in a memoir called Up and Down and Around the World with Carrie.  Today, as I read of her travels, I marvel at her spirit of adventure at a time when women did not have the independence they do today.  The piece below, from her book, describes a typical weekend driving excursion from Mold, the town where she taught in Wales. 

The national flower of Wales

Spring comes early to our valley. Children come in with arms full of daffodils, which grow wild in the woods. The daffodil is the national flower of Wales.
On Saturdays I often rented a car with Muriel and a few friends and would spend the day driving through the beautiful mountains and valleys of North Wales. We would picnic at some scenic spot.
From Mold the road rises gently to the Twlch (the top) which overlooks the lovely Vale of Clwyd. This is a land of green valleys and stonewalls ringing tiny farms. Most areas of the countryside are good only for grazing and pastures for sheep and cattle. The Clwydian Hills are the highest point between Mold and the Snowdonia Range.
We pass through the small village of Ruthin (pronounced Rithin), which boasts a castle, now transformed into a tourist hotel.
Farther on is the town of Denbigh, also with the ruins of a castle. Charles I was born here. Another interesting site here is the cottage where Stanley, the explorer who found Livingstone in Africa, once lived.

Swallow Falls near Betws-y-coed

Crossing the Conway River, we often turn south to Betws-y-coed. Remember the “w” is an “oo” and “y” as in “it”. “Coed” is all one syllable. Now you can say it! Betws-y-coed is the most famous beauty spot in the Snowdonia region, the area surrounding Mount Snowdon, a national park. The falls here tumble beneath a leafy overhang of many trees and are bordered by lacy bracken, a large wild species of fern.
We continue on to Capel Curig and then to Llanberis Pass. Here the dark hills are barren on either side. We can hear the sound of bleating sheep and the rush of streams falling from the hills. Stone walls follow the line of the road. It is a sad and lonely place, especially in the rain. At the top of the pass two small inns stand near each other. We are grateful for a cup of tea and the sandwiches we have brought along. When we leave, the sun comes out and a great valley sweeps down before us, and the brown hills are outlined against the sky.
Llanberis lies at the foot of Mount Snowdon. At 3,500 feet, it is the second highest peak in Great Britain. One side is very rugged and steep. It is said that Hillary of Mount Everest fame practiced on this side. Many climbers use the other more gentle slope. A small cog railway steams to the top during tourist season. The view is fantastic when the weather is bright, but the top of Mount Snowdon is often hidden by clouds, even in fine weather below.

Conway, above the estuary

Not far from Llanberis is the town of Caernarvon and its famous castle, the most impressive and largest of the Welsh castles. The quickest way home from Caernarvon is back across the Menai Straits bridge and along the coast road bordering the Irish Sea, passing Bangor, Conway and Llandudno and on to Colwyn Bay and the town of Rhyl. There we must turn inland for home.
Mold is only ten or fifteen miles from the coast. We can always tell when there is a storm at sea when the gulls come sweeping in from the coast.