Best things to do in Cardiff: discover where Celtic history meets vibrant city life by the sea with this travel guide.

Wales welcomed me like an old song — the kind that starts soft and somehow burrows into your bones. A country of myths and stubbornly friendly faces, it’s stitched into the map by seas on three sides: the Irish Sea curling around the north and west, the Bristol Channel to the south and the Celtic Sea off the southwest. Bordering England to the east, Wales still feels defiantly itself — wet days that insist you layer up and landscapes that beg you to step outside anyway.

Head north or center and the land rises into national parks: jagged ridgelines, peat bogs and mountain tracks where sheep outnumber people and silence is a sound you can actually hear. Walk long enough and the weather changes your mind about plans; that’s part of the point. Head south and the coastline opens up — more than 1,500 miles of rocky shoreline, secret coves and the occasional soft-sanded beach where you can watch tides redraw the map.

Cardiff — the capital — sits in the southeast on a rim of water called Cardiff Bay. It grew into prominence in the 19th century, when coal from nearby valleys funneled through the city’s docks and turned a provincial town into an international port. Today, Cardiff hums with a quieter energy: canalside cafés, a lively waterfront and streets where history and contemporary life brush shoulders.

Wales claims an embarrassment of castles and the phrase “charming beyond belief” feels accurate here. Cardiff Castle, right at the city’s heart, layers nearly 2,000 years of stories into stone — Roman foundations, medieval strongholds and Victorian extravagance all rolled into one dramatic bundle. Then, there are the arcades: Cardiff’s nickname, the “City of Arcades,” points to the dense network of Victorian and Edwardian shopping passages — their glass roofs and tiled floors feel like stepping back into an era when shopping was an event.

Wales is a place for walking boots and rainy-day laughter, for castle-obsessed afternoons and quiet coastal mornings. It’s a country that wears its history well and invites you to make a few stories of your own.

City streets, island sunsets and everything in between — my two week holiday, of which Cardiff was much a part, wove together a ribbon of memories across Europe, from London’s familiar hum to the turquoise hush of the Mediterranean.

I landed in London, England, the kind of city that feels like a warm-up act and the main event all at once. After caffeinating and wandering neighborhoods that never stop surprising, I hopped a train west toward Wales. Cardiff greeted me with a mix of modern energy and proud history; its compact heart was perfect for long walks and spontaneous detours. Further along the coast, the seaside town of Tenby felt like stepping into a watercolor painting — pastel houses, narrow lanes and a beach that invites slow afternoons and seaside ice cream.

Back through London's bustle, I crossed the Channel to a very different pace of life: the Isle of Jersey. This self-governing Crown Dependency is small but vivid — fresh seafood straight from the market, low-lying fields and sunsets that turn the horizon into molten gold. Evenings there had a gentle, timeless quality that made time feel optional.

Next, came a ferry ride to France that led, by delightful accident, to an overnight in Saint-Malo. The walled town’s moonlit ramparts and tidal personality made the detour feel like a secret reward. From there, I continued inland to Nantes, the “City of the Dukes,” where history and contemporary creativity live side by side — museums, whimsical public art and streets that beg to be explored without a map.

For the finale, I flew south to the glittering French Riviera. Nice offered la vie belle in the form of sunlit promenades, perfumed markets and a shore that invites long, contemplative walks. Just a short hop away, Monaco showes off its glamorous side—marina views, grand architecture and that unmistakable sense of play.

This trip entwined urban energy and island calm into a single journey: a reminder that Europe’s charms exist in big-city beats, sleepy coastal towns and every ferry or train ride that connects them.

Cardiff Calling: Charming Must-Do Experiences in Wales’s Capital

Cardiff charms with a compact, strollable city that feels full of surprises. Medieval Cardiff Castle nestles alongside sleek modern buildings and bustling waterfronts, while museums and galleries—many free—invite you to discover Welsh history and cutting‑edge art. Enjoy a lively food and craft‑beer scene, pop-up festivals and events and easy access to dramatic coastlines and national parks, so you can blend city delights with fresh-air escapes in just a short visit.

Settle In to Your Gorgeous Airbnb: Hello Cardiff

Heading from to Cardiff from London — or nearby? Here’s a simple, stress-free itinerary to get you there.

Start with a quick breakfast at Bobo Social—think creamy avocado toast and a warming chai latte to set the tone for the journey. From there, make your way to Paddington Station for an early departure to Cardiff. Buy tickets in advance and aim to arrive 10–15 minutes before departure; Paddington’s sprawling layout can be disorienting at first but the large departure boards make it easy to find your platform.

The train to Cardiff takes about 90 minutes and is a comfortable, scenic run. Modern carriages feature forward- and rear-facing seating, occasional tables for working or snacking and a designated quiet car if you want to relax or read. The service stops at several towns en route, offering a pleasant glimpse of the changing landscape.

You’ll arrive at Cardiff Central, a compact, accessible hub from which most of central Cardiff is within easy reach. From the station, it’s a short 10-minute walk to many neighbourhoods and accommodations—perfect for dropping bags and heading out to explore.

Tip / My best advice? Opt for a local Airbnb in Cardiff to get a real feel for the town, enjoy a warm welcome and save a few bucks. You may even come away with a few new whiskered companions.

Derek, my host, greeted me with effortless warmth — and introduced me to the apartment’s true rulers: two mischievous cats who had claimed the kitchen as their private domain. The place felt instantly like a character in its own story: cozy, playful and pulled together with an eclectic mix of furniture and boldly colored artworks that seemed to hum with personality. After a quick tour and a few insider tips about the city, Derek left me to settle in, the apartment already feeling like a small, welcoming launchpad for my explorations.

I introduced myself to the resident cats, coaxing them into a tiny, impromptu photoshoot as they posed like seasoned models. After a few laughs and several photos, I carried my bags upstairs to claim my room. It was modest — a cozy bed flanked by mismatched side tables and a well-worn wardrobe — but the surprise highlight was the bathroom: small, immaculate and unexpectedly luxurious, a quiet little oasis that made the whole stay feel like a treat.

Crisp black-and-white lines gave the room a graphic, gallery-like feel; the fixtures gleamed like sculptures. I could barely keep my hands off the charming clawfoot tub — already imagining the steam curling up as I sank into a long, indulgent soak.

But first — the city was calling. Exploring the city wasn’t just the day’s agenda; it was the gateway to the place itself.

Fall in Love With the City of Arcades

A few minutes’ walk into town lies a compact, charming city center. Nicknamed the “City of Arcades,” its main street buzzes with life while seven Edwardian and Victorian arcades branch off like secret passageways. Tucked into the heart of town along High Street, these arcades can be easy to miss—often marked only by black facades and twin arched columns. Passing through, the arcades open into long, atmospheric corridors where light and shadow play across stained glass, brass shop signs and hidden cafés. Each arcade feels like a pocket of the past woven into the present.

Winding like a friendly serpent, the arcades curl and slip into one another, opening into tucked-away passages that feel almost secret. Each has its own personality — Castle Arcade, High Street Arcade, Duke Street Arcade, Royal Arcade, Morgan Arcade — and together they host over 100 independent boutiques, cozy cafés, curious shops, bustling markets and intimate bars and restaurants. Strolling through them is like following a treasure map: every turn reveals a new temptation, a familiar face or a quiet corner begging for a slow coffee and people-watching.

Step back in time and wander through one of Cardiff’s most beloved treasures — a network of elegant arcades that first welcomed shoppers in 1885. Once a lively commercial hub, these passages now stand as a living tribute to the city’s architectural and retail heritage. Sunlight filters through soaring glass roofs, casting a warm glow over intricate ironwork and rows of quaint shopfronts. Decorative lanterns hang like jewelry from the ceilings, while every carved detail and tiled floor whispers stories of Victorian and Edwardian days gone by.

Arcades unfurl like a ribbon through the quarter, inviting slow exploration. Matte-black façades stand in elegant rows, their simplicity highlighting the soft sheen of polished stone underfoot. Lanterns swing gently overhead, casting a warm, rhythmic glow that sets a calming cadence as visitors drift from one boutique to the next. Minimal signs hint at what lay inside, while low tables and chairs spill into the passageways, offering cozy pauses where the corridor itself feels like a welcoming salon.

Tucked inside Cardiff’s lively arcade quarter is the much-talked-about Cardiff Market — or Central Market, as the locals call it — and I’m only slightly ashamed to admit I didn’t make it inside this time. From everything I’ve heard, though, it’s absolutely worth penciling into your itinerary.

Housed beneath a dramatic, sweeping glass roof in the Castle Quarter, the market feels like an artist’s sketch — a beautiful Victorian structure that’s been a hub of trade in some form since the 1700s, with records of market activity on this very site stretching back to the 14th century. The building you see today opened in 1891 and stepping beneath that roof is said to be like stepping into a miniature world of Welsh flavor and eclectic finds.

Stalls spill with traditional Welsh treats, artisan coffee and tempting street food, while vintage clothing rails and second-hand record boxes beckon the treasure hunter. Fresh produce and independent traders add color and character, so whether you’re after a bite, a bargain or simply soaking up local life, Cardiff Market promises a delightfully varied shopping experience. I’ll be back next trip — and this time I won’t leave without a wander through those aisles.

Back in the arcades, wander like someone who’s stumbled onto a private little world. With barely a soul in sight, each shop feels like its own discovery: tiny ice cream parlors, sunlit bakeries, cozy salons, pizza joints, barbershops, low-key bars, boutiques, chocolatiers and coffee corners — each one sporting a name as playful as its wares, from Gin & Juice to Flight Club. It’s a shopping experience that feels delightfully personal, the kind of place you slow down for and savor.

It must take years to uncover every hidden alley and secret door of these arcades. Some even climb up to a second level, where new delights wait around each corner. My heart belonged to the old-time bars — quietly beautiful and deliciously moody, as if the clock had paused just for them. And the light... filtered through the glass ceilings it fell like a gentle blessing, turning every moment into something close to perfect.

Most of all, this Victorian-era shopping district feels like a secret kept by the city — utterly alluring, delightfully unique, and often hailed as Cardiff’s tiny crown jewel. Step into the arcades and you’ll wander beneath ornate ironwork and gaslight echoes, stumble on tempting little cafes and curious boutiques and inhale a history that seems to hum from every tiled floor and carved cornice. It’s the kind of place that lingers in your memory: an intimate, charming maze of architecture, tasty discoveries and stories waiting to be uncovered.

Tip / Wander slowly through the arcades and savor the exquisite details at every turn. Each carved cornice and sunlit window feels like a gentle time machine, inviting you to linger and let the past unfold around you.

As my days in Cardiff slipped by, I noticed the arcades took on a life of their own after dark — some glowing with late-night chatter and clinking glassware, while others drew their curtains and slept until morning.

After building up an appetite from wandering the neighborhood, slip into Rosa’s Thai Café for a leisurely lunch. Tucked just off the main drag, the place feels like a special find — softly lit, full of character and anchored by a warm, welcoming central bar where locals linger over plates and stories.

For a taste of comfort, order the fragrant green curry with tender beef served over steaming white rice, washed down with a refreshing Thai lemonade. The staff move with friendly efficiency, plates arriving quickly and flavors that linger pleasantly.

One thing’s for sure, downtown Cardiff leaves an impression—vibrant, unexpected and utterly memorable. Next, turn the corner at the end of High Street and there it is — Cardiff Castle, waiting like a storybook fortress ready to be explored.

Discover the Enchantment of Cardiff Castle

Open every day of the year, the Cardiff Castle welcomes wanderers with free access to its sweeping grounds — though if you want to step fully into history and explore its inner treasures, a £15 ticket at the Visitor Centre gets you inside. Start there, pick up your ticket, then head downstairs to the Firing Line Museum, where the stories of The Queen’s Dragoon Guards and The Royal Welsh unfurl across a rich collection of exhibits and artifacts. Then, move on to explore the grounds.

Once you pass through the gate, the castle becomes a playground for curious minds. Scale the stout Norman keep for panoramic views that put the surrounding city in miniature. Pause by the life-size replica medieval trebuchet — a theatrical reminder of siegecraft that I somehow managed to miss on my visit. Wander through the sumptuous Castle Apartments, once home to one of the wealthiest men in the world; the lavish rooms feel like sets from a period drama.

History keeps revealing itself in unexpected corners: Roman remains that whisper of ancient roots, the charmingly named Chariot Corner and the stark Wartime Shelters that tell quieter, grittier stories. When you’re ready to breathe, follow the Battlement Walks for sweeping vistas or drift into nearby Bute Park for a gentle, leafy lullaby — perfect places to let the castle’s echoes settle into your day.

Carved in the heart of Cardiff’s city center, Cardiff Castle sits like a storybook come to life, surrounded by sweeping parkland that invites you to pause and wander. Its Romanesque walls and whimsical towers whisper of 2,000 years of history — from a 1st-century Roman fort to the Norman stronghold founded after William the Conqueror’s arrival. Parts of that ancient fort were even lovingly reconstructed in the 20th century, weaving old stones and modern restoration into the castle’s living fabric.

Wandering around the castle, I stumbled on a delightful surprise: the Victorian Apartments. These residential wings are a living quilt of history — beginnings reach back to the 1400s but centuries of additions and reinvention have given them a layered, storybook quality.

Step inside and you’ll be swept into the Victorian era’s most theatrical imagination: the lavish apartments designed by William Burges for the 3rd Marquess of Bute. Burges and Bute shared a fervent passion for medieval romance and spared no expense in crafting a Neo-Gothic fantasy filled with rich detail, gilded ceilings and rooms that feel more like stages than living quarters.

But this is'n’t the first incarnation of the castle apartments.

By the 1580s, when the Earls of Pembroke could finally trade constant vigilance for creature comforts, they set about turning the castle into a sumptuous home. Time and tastes tugged the place in new directions and by 1766, when the Bute family took over, parts of the house had slipped into neglect. Lord Bute brought in architect Henry Holland and his father-in-law to tear down, rebuild and reimagine.

The real magic began in 1865, when the 3rd Marquess of Bute teamed up with William Burges, an artist-architect whose imagination seemed to dwell in a romantic past. The pair, both fascinated by medieval grandeur, set out to craft a fantasy palace. Walking through the apartments today feels like stepping into one of their dreams: a gothic feast of opulent murals, gilded surfaces that catch the light like tiny suns, painstaking wood carvings, jewel-toned stained glass and smooth, pale marble. Every corner whispers of obsession with history, turned into breathtaking, theatrical beauty.

Lord Bute’s study still holds the hush of mapped plans and quiet contemplation, while the Guest Tower promises secrets and surprise views from its narrow windows. Each room has a personality: the Arab Room with its exotic flair, the cosy Nursery and the grand Banqueting Hall where echoes of laughter must still linger. The Dining Room, Drawing Room and Library invite slow conversation and page-turning afternoons and the bedrooms for Lady and Lord Bute are intimate, quietly elegant retreats.

The Banqueting Hall is the jewel of the house — the largest chamber, sitting in the oldest part of the castle. Its bones reach back to the 15th century but the walls have been dressed in Victorian finery: a tapestry of surface designs, ornate ceiling work and polished floors that marry medieval strength with Victorian glamour. Standing there, you can feel centuries layered on top of one another, each era leaving its own beautiful mark.

My favorite corner of the house is the Arab Room — one of William Burges’s last creations, completed in 1881, the year he died. Step beneath its ceiling and you understand why people linger here: a muqarnas canopy, shimmering like a carved honeycomb, folds overhead. The word muqarnas — “horn” or “ridge” — hints at the many tiny, ornamental nodules that catch the light and draw the eye into ever-smaller, perfectly arranged shapes.

Unlike the stone and plaster versions seen in mosques and madrasas, this muqarnas is crafted from wood, each surface painted and gilded with gold leaf. Up close the detail feels almost impossible: miniature vaults within vaults, a three-dimensional geometry somehow playful and solemn at once. In a quiet room filled with history, that ceiling is the kind of thing that makes you stop, tilt your head and simply breathe.

The shapes are mesmerizing, like a gentle optical illusion that invites the eye to wander. Sunlight and shadow dance across the room in slow choreography, turning every corner into a small revelation. The space carries a quiet, almost spiritual hush that feels both calming and uplifting. I was also very much taken with the large stained-glass windows — jewel-toned panels that pour rich, saturated color into the room and make everything glow with a kind of reverent warmth.

A cool, crisp breeze nudges toward the castle, sending a quiet invitation. What secrets wait behind those stone walls and what views from the tower would reveal — rolling fields? A patchwork of rooftops? A river glinting in the distance?

The grounds are a classic motte-and-bailey: two simple yet beguiling parts. The motte is the raised mound — often shaped by human hands — crowned with a keep, its silhouette bold against the sky. Below, the bailey spreads out: an enclosed courtyard that once hummed with daily life. Imagine narrow lanes of timbered houses, kitchens sending up constant smoke, chapels chiming and stores and workshops busy with trade. The bailey was the castle’s beating heart, a small village within walls where people lived, worked and kept the stronghold running. Standing there, it’s easy to picture the past folding into the present, each stone holding a story waiting to be discovered.

The very first Roman fort at Cardiff was likely established at the end of the 50’s AD on a strategic site that offered easy access to the sea. Its original intention was presumably to aid in subduing the local tribe know as the Silures. Archaeological excavations indicate that a series of four forts, each a different size, occupied the present site at different times.

The last fort was hewn from stone, its sturdy Roman walls rising as a quiet testimony to another age. Time and tides may have emptied the garrison after Rome’s decline but life lingered nearby. The little settlement that grew up beside the river kept the memory alive—its name, Caer-Taff, still whispers “fort on the Taff,” a small, enduring link between past and present.

After the Norman conquest, a new keep rose where a Roman fort once stood, as if layering centuries of stories in stone. Robert FitzHamon, the Norman lord of Gloucester, first crowned the motte with a timber stronghold—likely a wooden tower that marked the beginning of the site’s medieval rebirth.

Over the centuries the castle grew like a tall tale—new medieval walls and cozy dwellings added bit by bit, each layer of stone whispering stories of the families who lived within. In 1766 a marriage handed the keys to the Bute family and their mark would be felt far beyond the castle gates. John Crichton-Stuart, the 2nd Marquess of Bute, helped transform nearby Cardiff into a powerhouse of coal export, turning a sleepy port into a global hub. His son, John, the 3rd Marquess, inherited both the castle and the family fortune—and by the 1860s was said to be the richest man in the world. Standing beneath those ancient ramparts today, it’s easy to imagine the echoes of ambition and industry that reshaped a region and left such an improbably grand legacy.

Standing atop the most recognizable feature of Cardiff Castle — its striking twelve-sided Keep — it feels as if the city unfolds beneath you like a well worn map. From that lofty viewpoint, the whole courtyard reveals itself and beyond it, the pulse of Cardiff stretches toward the horizon.

This Keep, the finest example of its kind in Wales, is a classic “shell” Keep: a robust stone shell forming a protective embrace around the smaller buildings once nested inside. Imagine early 12th-century masons, under the watch of Robert Consul, Earl of Gloucester, replacing the old timber defenses with this resolute stone heart. The walls seem to hold whispers of long-ago life — and darker chapters too. For eight years the Keep doubled as a prison for Duke Robert of Normandy, the eldest son of William the Conqueror, who died here in 1134 at the age of eighty.

The Keep rises atop an artificial motte more than 35 feet high, its summit stretching over 100 feet across like a natural little kingdom. From the very top, the views unfold endlessly — a sweeping panorama that, on a clear day, reaches north to the fairytale silhouette of Castell Coch, that 19th‑century Gothic Revival dream perched above the village of Tongwynlais.

Additions in the 13th and 14th centuries gave the place a touch of medieval drama: a gatehouse rose beside the moat, its stone staircase winding up to a sturdy stone bridge that took the place of the old timber drawbridge. Imagine crossing that bridge centuries ago, the water glinting below and the gatehouse looming above. Time, however, has its own plans — the gatehouse itself was taken down in the 18th century, leaving only the story and the stones to whisper of its once-grand entrance.

Some of the loveliest views open onto a small circular courtyard eased behind the Keep. Its lines are unexpectedly spare compared with the rest of the castle — a calm, pared-back heart among the stone grandeur. Green shoots push up between the flagstones and in that quiet, sunlit pocket the place feels delightfully peaceful, as if the castle itself is taking a breath.

A short climb of roughly 50 steep stone steps leads to the Keep’s entrance, and a few more await you if you want to reach the viewing platform. The ascent is a little breath-stealing but every heave and pause is rewarded—once you stand atop the castle, the world unfurls beneath you in a way that makes the effort feel part of the adventure.

Even after nearly a thousand years, the Keep still steals the show — a silent, towering presence that dominates the landscape and feels certain to stand proud for at least another thousand.

Hidden within the castle’s medieval ramparts lies a secret that feels plucked from a fable: a network of tunnels. Their gentle hush and cool stone tell of a different era — World War II — when these passages became refuge. When air-raid sirens split the sky, up to 1,800 city residents would hurry into eight separate sections of the walls, finding shelter from the chaos above.

Imagine the scramble, softened by purpose-built ramps that let people flow down into safety with surprising ease. Inside, the walls held entire miniature communities: dormitory bunks for sleeping, tucked-away kitchens filling the air with comforting scents, discreet toilets and even first-aid posts ready to tend the wounded. Walking there today, you can still sense how ordinary life was quietly preserved inside ancient stone.

The castle even played a role in wartime ingenuity: its ramparts once anchored massive barrage balloons that floated above the city like silent, watchful guardians. These unmanned, tethered giants were deployed to shield streets and buildings from aerial attack, their gentle silhouettes a striking — if unexpected — addition to the historic skyline.

Today the tunnels felt like stepping into a war torn memory. As I wandered their narrow corridors, booming speakers peppered the air with wartime announcements—urgent, clipped warnings that once guided frightened crowds—interrupted every few minutes by piercing sirens. Weathered posters lined the walls, offering curt advice on how to act during a gas attack or what a mealtime routine might look like. Add the cool, damp air and the tunnel’s soft, dim glow and the whole scene was equal parts haunting and humbling—an intimate, unsettling reminder of the lives that once moved through these very passages.

Rounding out a visit to Cardiff Castle before the skies open, take a leisurely stroll along the Battlement Walk toward the north gate. The path traces three sides of the castle’s outer defenses—beginning at the south wall, curving around the east and finishing at the north gate—offering a pleasing mix of views and history. Imagine Roman legionaries once pacing these very ramparts, keeping vigilant watch over the settlement below.

Cardiff’s Roman story has a delightful twist: it lay hidden for centuries until 1888, when Lord Bute’s workmen, removing Norman earthworks to make way for a new tower, stumbled upon ancient masonry. As excavations continued, the Roman walls revealed themselves and the 3rd Marquess made the surprising decision to abandon his tower plans and restore the fort instead. Work resumed in 1897 on top of the original Roman foundations, a project that reached completion under the 4th Marquess in 1923. Today, the Battlement Walk lets you literally tread the layers of history—Roman stones beneath Victorian ambitions—while you take in the castle’s commanding views.

Devour Sweet Donuts at Whocult & Italian Fare at Cafe Citta

If you’ve got a sweet tooth and gluten isn’t holding you back, wander into the arcade and follow the scent of sugar to Whocult Coffee + Donuts. What started as a streetwear label called WHOCLO in 2010 quietly evolved into something delightfully unexpected: WHOCULT, a cozy coffee-and-T-shirt spot tucked into the front of an old warehouse. It feels less like a shop and more like a neighborhood secret — part café, part boutique and a warm tip-of-the-hat to the community that grew up around their clothes. Grab a donut, sip something steamy and soak in the quirky, lived-in charm.

In time, WHOCULT blossomed into something delightfully unpredictable — the sort of place born from too much coffee, too many brainstorms and a stubborn love affair with the perfect donut. Five years on, that quirky passion has taken root across South Wales: six cozy locations and a gleaming, state‑of‑the‑art bakery hidden away where magic is made. Every morning, hands shape and glaze each donut fresh — seven days a week — before they set off on their short journey to each WHOCULT shop, still warm and impossible to resist.

Each week the bakery feels like a tiny global tour. One bite and you could be whisked into a Parisian patisserie with Stitch — a Nutella heart cloaked in sky-blue vanilla icing — or standing on a sunlit Sicilian balcony with the lemon meringue: zesty lemon icing, tangy curd, crumbly biscuit and a cloud of lemon marshmallow fluff. Childhood nostalgia arrives in the Smarties creation, dipped in crushed candy like a cheerful playground memory.

There’s a midnight-adventure mood to the galaxy caramel: chocolate-caramel icing, molten caramel swirls, a salted drizzle and shards of cosmic candy. Homer flings a confetti of rainbow sprinkles over blush-pink raspberry icing, while Cosmic mesmerizes with marbled rainbow swirls that look like a tiny aurora.

If you crave something indulgent, cherry cheesecake lands you in a cozy café — jam-filled centers, cream-cheese frosting and biscuit crumb, finished with a gleaming cherry. Bueno wraps you in a European hug of hazelnut and chocolate crumb, with a silky bueno spread center. For the morning-after jet lag or any coffee craving, the coffee crunch — crowned with brûléed demerara sugar — is the perfect espresso-sidekick.

With flavors this playful and varied, every week feels like a new stop on a deliciously comforting journey.

Curious to stretch my palate, I ordered a donut perfumed with bright, citrusy lemon — not my usual go-to but what a delightful surprise. Each bite was a little sunburst. I paired it with a steaming chai latte to ward off the chilly weather outside, found a cozy corner and savored the perfect moment: warm cup in hand, sweet tang on my tongue and the world hush around me.

Near closing, the boys surprised me with a sweet send-off: a complimentary box of donuts, carefully packed with four new varieties I could sample over the next few days. I could already picturing the smile on my host’s face when we crack it open together.

Tired and a little soggy but buzzing on a sugar high, I left town and strolled the ten minutes back to my guesthouse with a warm box of donuts in hand. The rain had left the stone sidewalks gleaming and the brick facades of the neighborhood looked even more inviting under the soft, damp light. The streets were silent, as if the whole place was holding its breath—perfect company for a sweet, slow walk home.

In the evening, tastes of Italy — in Wales.

Cafe Citta sits snug in the heart of downtown Cardiff, a pocket-sized Italian wedged between the city’s bustle. From the street it promises warmth and stepping inside confirms it: a narrow room with roughly a dozen tables lined up along one side, the atmosphere made intimate by the hum of conversation and the glowing heat from the pizza oven at the back. The tiny open kitchen is the restaurant’s theater — a family team works in plain view and the sight (and smell) of homemade pasta and thin-crust pizzas emerging one after another gives the place an irresistible, lived-in charm.

There’s something delightfully communal about the way dishes arrive, as if the whole neighborhood already knows the menu by heart. Steam rolls forward from the oven, fogging the front windows and sealing the room in a cozy warmth that’s part kitchen, part living room. It’s an ideal stop for those who favor honest, home-cooked flavors over formality and for travelers who enjoy discovering a city’s character through the family-run spots its locals return to again and again.

Too impatient to linger over the chalkboard of daily specials? Dive straight for the wood-fired classic: quattro stagioni. Its quarters — ham, earthy mushrooms, tender artichokes and briny olives — arrive on a blistered crust that smells of smoke and welcome. A glass of Corvo Rosso IGT might accompany it, a full-bodied, fruity blend of Nero d’Avola and Merlot that promises warmth in every sip; for my palate it was a touch too bold but it paired bravely with the pie’s savory chorus. Dessert is a quiet, perfect note: a decaf affogato, bittersweet espresso pouring over creamy gelato, the kind of finish that makes a hurried stop feel like the perfect decision.

Savor the Warm, Buttery Delight of Traditional Welsh Cakes

Grey skies and a persistent drizzle nudged my morning into a gentle, unhurried rhythm. A lone leftover donut and a steaming bath provided the kind of slow, comforting start that seems designed for days when the world outside is cold and wet.

Wander into the heart of town and let the city unfold—quaint streets, curious shops and the kind of cafés that invite you to linger over a cup and people-watch. Take your time; there’s a gentle charm in the downtown corners waiting to be discovered.

By mid-morning, take a leisurely stroll along the River Taff leading toward the city and onward to the bay. The river path, roughly thirty minutes from the heart of town, offers a tranquil escape — a quiet ribbon of nature threading between urban edges. Wild vegetation leans close to the footpath and bright bursts of purple blooms push up through the greenery, small fireworks of color against the muted palette of the day. It’s the sort of calm, restorative walk that makes even grey weather feel like an invitation to slow down and notice the little details.

When you arrive in town, wander down to Fabulous Welshcakes in Cardiff Bay and treat yourself to a plate of warm, buttery Welshcakes—crispy on the outside, tender inside. The cozy shop is the kind of place where locals swap stories and the aroma of cinnamon and sugar feels like a welcome. Take a seat by the window, watch the harbor life drift by and let this simple, sweet stop become one of your favorite Cardiff memories.

Crumbly and buttery, Welsh cakes—also known as bakestones or pics—are small rounds of comfort cooked on a hot cast-iron griddle. The recipe is old-fashioned but endlessly adaptable: since the late 19th century bakestones have welcomed chocolate chips, warm spices and plump dried fruits into their simple dough. Bite into one and you’ll taste history and hearth together—rustic, sweet and perfectly suited to a rainy Welsh afternoon.

For a true taste of the bakery’s offerings, sample one of each variety: triple chocolate, apricot & cinnamon and the classic traditional. Each petite cookie arrives dusted with a fine sugar sparkle, evoking memories of pound cake or rustic flatbread. They lean toward the drier side but their softness and delicate crumb make them perfectly suited to pair with a steaming cup of coffee or a creamy tea.

Warm from the griddle, Welsh cakes are a small, flour-dusted joy—best enjoyed still steaming, sugar melting into their buttery crumb. Sit down with a cup of hot tea, let the steam mingle with the cake’s sweet, spiced aroma and savor that simple, perfectly cozy moment you won’t get the same way when they’re cold.

Relish Turkish Fare at The Sultan

Looking for something heartier and craving another hidden gem in Cardiff? Make your way to The Sultan — a cozy, unassuming spot where fragrant spices and generous portions promise a comforting, memorable meal. Tucked away from the main streets, it’s the kind of place locals swear by: warm hospitality, bold flavors and dishes that stick with you long after you’ve left the table.

Wander into the elegant Turkish spot and the menu promptly persuades an uncertain appetite otherwise. Inside, the scene feels quietly cinematic. Warm, attentive staff move with effortless grace and it quickly becomes clear this is a delightful discovery worth lingering over.

Tables nearby blossom with color as one dish after another arrives, the air filling with tempting aromas. Every plate looks like a promise; it is hard not to want to order the whole menu. For a graceful beginning, mint lemonade sets a cool, zesty tone while freshly made hummus arrives with warm lavash for dipping. A standout companion is a chilled butter blended with garlic and cheese, finished with black sesame and walnut—a small, indulgent flourish that elevates the simple ritual of breaking bread.

For a main, try Sarma Beyti. Sarma Beyti arrives at the table like a little masterpiece: marinated minced lamb köfte, grilled to a tender char, wrapped in melted cheese and pillowy lavash, then finished with a bright Halep sauce and set atop a bed of smoky garlic yogurt. Each component complements the next — the lamb’s savory depth, the yogurt’s gentle tang, the sauce’s peppery lift — creating layers of rich, surprising flavor.

Every dish shows the kitchen’s confidence with spice and texture; flavors feel indulgent without being heavy. A single cube of Turkish delight is offered to close the meal, a delicate, fragrant finish that feels perfectly measured after such a robust main course.

The whole experience comes in at roughly £40, a satisfying price for a meal that balances comfort, finesse and a touch of regional flair.

Roam Cardiff’s Vibrant City Centre

Drift further into the heart of the city toward the sparkling Cardiff Bay Waterfront Plaza, affectionately known as Mermaid Quay. Lined with restaurants, cafés, bars and boutiques, the quayside hums with life and offers a pleasant contrast of urban energy and seaside calm.

Once a tidal expanse of broad mudflats, the bay has been transformed by one of Europe's most ambitious engineering projects: the construction of the barrage. That bold intervention converted the area into a 500-acre freshwater lake, creating eight miles of new waterfront to explore. Today, the promenade invites slow strolls, riverside people-watching and spontaneous detours into cozy eateries and lively bars, all set against the dramatic backdrop of Cardiff’s maritime past turned present.

A gentle hush often settles over the waterfront, lending the neighborhood an unexpectedly intimate atmosphere that invites slow wandering. Narrow promenades, modern sculptures and a mix of contemporary and historic architecture create pockets of discovery at every turn—perfect for lingering over a coffee or ducking into a small gallery.

At the heart of the city centre stands the Wales Millennium Centre, its bold facade an iconic marker on the skyline. Inside, the program pulses with energy: music, theatre, opera and ballet find a spectacular home here, making it one of those cultural hubs where a single evening can offer everything from a world-class concert to cutting-edge drama. Whether you catch a headline performance or simply admire the building’s striking presence, it’s a reminder of how creativity shapes the city’s character.

A soft drizzle sets the scene as you wander toward Cardiff Bay’s striking landmarks: the stately water tower and the modern curve of the Senedd, home to the Welsh Parliament. Both sit within Roald Dahl Plass, an elegant oval plaza named for the city’s famous son, which doubles as a lively stage for fairs, festivals and open-air concerts.

The rain only adds to the atmosphere. The water feature at the plaza comes alive under the grey sky, its pools catching gleaming reflections and sending ripples that make delicate, ever-changing patterns. It’s the kind of sight that invites you to pause and watch — the meeting of architecture, public space and the weather creating a quietly cinematic moment in the heart of the bay.

Glass and timber glow against the Cardiff sky at the Senedd, a building that feels less like a government chamber and more like a sculpted promise of openness. With its transparent walls and a gently undulating roof of warm wood slats, the Senedd invites you in — literal transparency for a modern democracy. Inside and out, it’s home to the Welsh Parliament: the place where elected representatives shape laws for Wales, steer Welsh taxes and keep the government in check. For visitors, it’s a rare blend of striking contemporary architecture and the living heartbeat of Welsh civic life.

Chilled to the bone, the evening melts away in the comforting ritual of a steaming bath and a cozy bed, the kind of rest that feels earned after a blustery day.

Taste Local Welsh Cuisine at The Potted Pig

The potted Pig awaits — a cozy jewel of Welsh cuisine buried in a forgotten underground bank vault. This local restaurant serves modern British fare with whispers of French technique and New York swagger, all beneath stone arches that still remember ledgers and late-night whispers. It’s exactly the kind of place that makes discovering elevated, locally-minded menus feel like a small victory.

Stepping into the cellar, the atmosphere sinks in: polished yet intimate, with real underground-vault vibes that somehow manage to feel both historic and refreshingly new. Settling into a snug booth, a chilled pint appears first — Golden Cider from Cornish Orchards — bright and crisp, the perfect companion to a menu that promises inventive takes on regional ingredients.

Potted Pig makes a delightful start to any meal. Served in a petite glass jar with ribbons of pickled ginger and crisp matchsticks of carrot, it arrives alongside rounds of freshly toasted sourdough—an appealing contrast of textures and colors. The pork itself is pulled to tender perfection, richly flavored and comforting, though a touch more salt would elevate its savory depth. Overall, it’s a charming, shareable starter that sets an inviting tone for the courses to come.

A seaside dinner brings a bright, maritime plate to the table: a whole hake glazed in a vivid red sauce, nestled alongside creamy white beans, smoky ribbons of chorizo, salty samphire and anise‑fragrant fennel. Each component shines on its own — the hake flaky and delicate, the beans comforting, the chorizo adding a warm, savory note, and the samphire a flash of briny freshness — but together they read like two distinct dishes sharing one plate, an intriguing if slightly discordant duet.

For something lighter to finish, a lime and passion fruit posset arrives: a chilled, silky set dessert with the gentle tang of lime cut by the tropical brightness of passion fruit. It’s a refreshing, citrusy close to a meal firmly rooted in coastal flavors.

Clouds, cool breezes and an occasional shower only add to the charm of Cardiff — this picturesque, welcoming little town is a delight to wander, every step revealing another inviting corner to fall for.

Tip / If you’re looking for a day trip from Cardiff, snag a rental and head westward for two hours toward the quaint seaside town of Tenby, where pastel houses and harborside charm promise a fresh breeze and slow-paced exploration.

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