Just did a quick google (for a Welsh flag) and came across the following entry at worldoneness. Here’s the site intro:

Welcome to the web site where you may read the first person foreign travel experiences of others, or share your own foreign travel experiences with them. We welcome teachers, students, arm chair travelers, people who have been there – done that, or people who are just thinking of going. We encourage you to share your stories with us and, hopefully, we will soon have dozens of articles on every country in the world. Thank you for passing this site on to your friends, relatives, and neighbors. We hope you will enjoy your visit here.

Sounds good, no?

But here’s the entry for Wales (pedant’s note: I think she means Llangollen):

Llangollon, Wales – May 1985 (by) Vicky Blitz

My husband, Bob, and I were on a two week bus tour through England, Scotland and Wales. But we were in Wales very briefly. We stopped for lunch in the lovely little town of Llangollon and I tried their rum baba, served by a very pleasant young woman.

Our tour guide, Tristan, had done a lot of hiking and camping in England, where one can freely cross the farmers lands without any fear. It is the custom in England, that, most land is “open” to the public, as long as they don’t leave trash behind. However, he warned us that hiking and camping in Wales was a little risky, if one goes far back in the hills. He said, that, as in parts of Appalachia in the U.S., some people have been back in the Welsh hills for such a long time, isolated from the rest of the world, there has been inbreeding and the gene pool has gone down in intelligence. Couple that, with the distrust of strangers (the mountain people have), for one’s own safety, it is wise to avoid the Welsh mountains, when hiking and camping in Wales.
June 4, 2002

Way to go, Tristan!

But I feel really bad now. Many years ago I had a long conversation with an innocent Canadian guy in Petticoat Creek. He was planning a trip to Wales and was full of questions about the mountains, the pubs, the usual things vital to a 20-odd year old Canadian travelling to Europe for the first time. So I talked to him. At great length. And I embellished. God forgive me, I told him a pack of lies. My father served for many years with the mountain rescue team so I had plenty of material to work with (sorry Dad). So this is for Rick with the red hair and the sweet smile, former resident of Pickering, Canada. I’m sorry. Hope you went to Wales and discovered the truth for yourself.

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