Strolling in the Victorian Sea Breeze | My Llandudno Pier Time

| My Llandudno Pier Time. "Strolling in the Victorian Sea Breeze | My Llandudno Pier Time" When the hustle and bustle of London is left behind by the train, and the view outside the window is gradually filled with green hills and sheep pastures, I know I am heading to a real fairy tale - the pearl hidden in the bay by the Welsh, Llandudno. Choosing to visit this Victorian town in early summer was the most romantic decision I ever made. The three-and-a-half-hour train journey was like a carefully choreographed prelude, until the bay suddenly leapt into view from the mountains, and white yachts rippled across the sapphire sea, I understood why even the inspiration for Alice in Wonderland was born here. Leaving my luggage behind at the seagull-circling B&B, I couldn't wait to run to the 700-meter-long pier that stretches into the Irish Sea. The cast-iron archway at the entrance to Llandudno Pier still bears the pattern of 1896, and the moment I stepped on it, the wooden walkway creaked softly under my feet, like an invitation to travel through time. The afternoon sun dyed the colorful awnings honey-colored, and the air was filled with the aroma of freshly baked waffles and sea salt. I held a mint chocolate ice cream and watched the old man fishing cast a silver arc into the air, while the children chased and played with bubble machines. An elderly couple on a bench read the same newspaper side by side, and when the sea breeze lifted the yellowed pages, the old man smiled and pressed down his wife's wind-blown silver hair. Looking back at the end of the pier, the crescent-shaped bay embraces the whole town. Cream-colored Victorian buildings stretch along the coastline, and the red cable car slowly climbs up the Great Orme. Suddenly, the melody of a music box drew me to turn around, and I found a street performer playing the accordion next to the carousel, the notes jumping in the ensemble of waves and seagulls. When the sunset gilded the pier, I sat on the cast-iron carved bench and didn't want to leave. Watching the sunset burn the sky into the color of orange soda, listening to the tide singing the same song for a hundred years between the wooden stakes. At this moment, I suddenly understood that some places are naturally suitable for slow-motion life - such as letting the hem of your skirt be stained with the salty taste of the sea breeze, such as counting the waves and waiting for the street lights to come on one by one, such as walking into the romance of the Victorian era and becoming part of the scenery.