Postcards from Portmeirion

‘You may have the universe if I may have Italy.’ – Giuseppe Verdi.

Portmeirion: An Italian village in Wales.

Portmeirion. The magical Italian village built on the Welsh coastline. It has long been a destination I’ve wanted to visit, but travel abroad always took precedence. In the end, it was a global pandemic that gave me the final nudge I needed to go. With all overseas travel still halted for me, I exchanged foreign shores for Wales during my summer holiday. As luck would have it, the weather was on my side. Long, shining hot days, with evenings that stayed warm for hours after the sun sank. Golden July days, free of work and obligation, stretched out gloriously ahead of me. I booked my ticket and took the road north to Portmeirion.

My first impressions of the village were positive as I nosed my car down a narrow lane lined either side with bright blue and pink hydrangeas. I’d never seen so many in one place. They nodded cheerfully as I edged past. Portmeirion is tucked away into the side of a hill, overlooking the estuary of the River Dwyryd. It doesn’t give its secrets away easily. You are tempted in, further and further, until suddenly you look back and realise just exactly how beautiful the surroundings are.

The history of Portmeirion.

Designed and built by Sir Clough Williams-Ellis between 1925 and 1975, Portmeirion is now owned by a charitable trust. Sir Clough Williams-Ellis designed the village in an Italian style to pay tribute to the atmosphere of the Mediterranean. He drew on Italian influences and incorporated fragments from demolished buildings into his designs. The village has long drawn visitors and tourists from around the world, and is the location for several films and TV shows.

Over the years, there have also been many famous visitors, including Gregory Peck, Sir Paul McCartney and Jools Holland. It’s not hard to see why so many people are attracted to the village. The architecture is special – and unique in Wales given its Mediterranean style. My favourite thing about the whole village were the bright, primary colours.

And while the village had plenty of visitors on the day I went, it never felt overcrowded. I enjoyed a stroll through the woods above the village, explored the coastline beyond the hotel and spent several happy hours wandering between the buildings and along the little alleys, taking as many photos as possible!

Cobbled streets and pastel walls.

Throughout Portmeirion, cobbled lanes and narrow streets wound their way past and among the buildings, leading me ever further into the village. I strolled slowly, allowing time to take everything in. It felt so good to be wandering and exploring under a blue sky, the sun warm on my back, beautiful flowers in full bloom everywhere I looked. Almost as if the pandemic had never happened. Portmeirion had successfully wooed me. Smiling to myself, I continued down the path towards the estuary. There were still so many cobbled streets I needed to wander along. So much left to see!

The beauty of Wales.

Mid summer. Flowers were everywhere. The entire village was awash with natural colours contrasting against the brightly painted walls. As I strolled down the hill, these pink and white geraniums captured my attention. In the background, the Welsh flag snapped in the breeze. To my left, the estuarine waters sparkled and glittered, like a million shards of glass shattered. The church spire, so quintessentially Italian looking, rose above the entire village, proud atop the cliff. It was the perfect scene.

Across the estuary.

From the viewpoint between the trees, Portmeirion looked like a toy village. It was fantastical, a land dreamt into existence by an eccentric. How delightful that this special scene could be found in North Wales, of all places! In my jeans, I was warm. The turquoise pool looked inviting, the artificial blue contrasting against the more natural hues of the estuary waters just over the wall. In the far distance, Snowdonia’s peaks rose up to meet a cornflower sky. Here, in the woods above the village, it felt quiet and secluded. There were few visitors here, most of them concentrating in the main squares and alleys currently hidden from view. And yet they missed this – the opportunity to stand on the periphery and experience the joy of Portmeirion from further back. The beautiful village viewed against a beautiful backdrop.

Blue hues.

The last time I saw blue hues like this, I was in Chefchaouen. Throughout Portmeirion, I stumbled across this shade of blue. So bright, so daring, cool, dominating the space. It contrasted perfectly with the coral pink, blood orange and white walls it often shared space with. As I wandered aimlessly through the village, I was struck with the feeling that this was the first time since the pandemic began that I actually felt like I was abroad. With no plans to travel overseas in place, and with an expired passport that needs replacing, it felt good to find a place close to home that made me feel like I was in a different country altogether. Even if it was just for a couple of hours. And even if, in reality, I was just a few hours north of my parents’ house…

Through the peepholes.

Tiny scenes captured through archways, portholes and doors. Snippets of stories to be shared. The primary colours I’d grown accustomed to over the course of a few hours. What would I see when I peered around the next corner, peeped through the next arch. Glimpses of architecture, fleeting moments of time. The peepholes framed scenes perfectly, captured them and gave them a new light. Finding them and taking photos was one of my favourite activities as I explored Portmeirion.

A coffee stop.

Before I departed, I paused to grab a coffee and sit down a while. It was pleasant to soak up the atmosphere, spend some time taking everything in. Next to me, an elderly woman and her friend talked about the holiday they were on. Their soft Scottish accents were comforting as I quietly listened in, picking up on where they’d been and what the plan was after Portmeirion. Birds fluttered around us, bold and eager to peck crumbs from the ground beneath our feet. One landed right next to the Scottish woman closest to me, and she laughed. We exchanged glances and smiled, a shared moment of delight at the bird’s proximity. As it fluttered away, I stood. Time to go. The beach was calling. Time for a swim in the sparkling water and to enjoy this wonderful summer’s day.

Want to read more about Wales? Of course you do! Go check out the Wales Archives for more! Or, if you want to view more Postcards From… posts, you can find those here.