Cymru

The title of this entry is the Welsh name for Wales, and despite its appearance it is pronounced "cum-ree". That's the Welsh for you, though--I think they designed their language specifically to antagonize English speakers. Can't really blame them, given the whole Edward I business.

Wales and its language are both gorgeous. I really enjoyed my weekend there. We left really early Saturday morning. Well, we were supposed to leave at 7:30AM from Gloucester Rd, which involved me getting up at like 5:30 and sprinting my way to the Tube to get to Gloucester Rd on time. Of course we left a half hour late, meaning I could have ambled peacefully to the Tube, but whatever. Our group consisted of about two and a half dozen CAPA students and then about a dozen students from a different study abroad program. The kids from the other program spent the entire weekend being late to things and generally being pains in the ass for our tour guide and for Anderson, the CAPA staff member who came along.

It was my first (and only) CAPA trip outside of England, and I still can't decide whether choosing to make my visit to Wales with CAPA was a good plan. I must admit I enjoyed not having to plan things, and I am fairly sure I saved money by going with CAPA rather than doing it myself. But at nearly every stop I was frustrated by how very little time we had to actually see things. So it's a toss-up, really.

Our first stop was at Caerleon, a town famous for having the best Roman ruins in Britain. The first site we went to was a Roman fort, which consisted mainly of rows of bricks/piles of brick overgrown with grass. It was kind of cool but not overly impressive; mostly I enjoyed the fact that it was right next to a rugby field where small boys were practicing rugby. But the next site was amazing; it was a Roman amphitheater and was remarkably intact. It was a grassy clearing surrounded by the remnants of the stone stands and gates; the shape of the amphitheater was still quite apparent. The weather was beautiful as well, sunny and warm(ish). The ruins were pleasant and impressive; it still felt like an amphitheater. I had a wonderful time. [Interesting tidbit (for me, at any rate): Arthurian legend traditionally places Camelot in Caerleon.]

We piled back on the coach and headed for Caerphilly to see a castle. We were given about an hour for lunch in the town before we were supposed to meet to actually get into the castle (you had to pay to get in, but we were all on a group ticket so we had to go in together). It didn't occur to me at the time (because I had no idea how rushed we were going to be), but I should have just paid the three pounds to go in right away so I could have explored the castle properly. In any event, Alan & Rachel and I had all brought lunches so we found a pile of rocks near the castle's moat and picnicked in the shadow of Caerphilly Castle.

Caerphilly Castle is the best castle I have seen, bar none. Almost every one of its buildings is at least partially intact, and it is huge. Once inside you are free to wander around the ruins at your leisure (unless you are rushed by your tour guide). Again, the remarkably sunny weather made all the difference in the world. It was astoundingly beautiful. Caerphilly has a leaning tower that leans more than the tower in Pisa does. The castle is on a knoll overlooking the quaint town, and is still surrounded by a moat (although I'm sure today's cheerful blue moat is nothing like the filthy muck it was during the castle's heyday). We were able to climb towers and wander ramparts and inspect medieval siege equipment. The castle was fantastic, which was why only having a half-hour to explore freely (after a brief ten-minute overview done by our guide) was so disappointing.

After leaving Caerphilly, we went to the Museum of Welsh Life. Think Greenfield Village in Dearborn, except Welsh. It was a quaint, pretty place, full of sheep, Welsh people, signs only in Welsh, and old Welsh buildings of various ages and types. The land it was on was full of trees--proper woods, which I truly haven't seen since the States. As a result, the Museum of Welsh Life reminded me of home and my lasting impression of it will not be any sort of historical or cultural insight, but rather that it was lovely to be strolling beneath old trees again. I enjoyed the museum, but honestly I'd have preferred to skip it to spend more time in Caerphilly.

It was then off to Cardiff for the night. We got to our hotel around 5:00. Rachel and I were roommates and both enjoyed the novelty of the beds in our room. It was naturally quite a cheap hotel, so it had a bunk bed. But not a normal bunk bed, a Welsh bunk bed (I have no idea whether it was particularly Welsh, but I had never seen anything like it before). The bottom bunk was a typical double bed, and the top bunk was a twin bed. However, the two beds were not parallel, but rather perpendicular--the top bunk was positioned sort of across the bottom bunk. I took the top because I found it so novel. Shortly after check-in, the three of us went in search of dinner. A Six Nations rugby match (Wales-Italy) had just concluded when we got to Cardiff, so the main street of the smallish capital was overflowing with drunken rugby supporters (the Welsh are infamous for their enthusiasm for rugby). But we managed to find a relatively quiet pub near Cardiff Castle. The next rugby match of the evening (I think it was Scotland-Ireland) was on inside, but there were fewer and calmer people there than in all the other restaurants/pubs/bars/clubs on the street. We reveled in Cardiff's cheapness; our meals were probably half as much as comparable food in London would have been. I tried a half-pint of Brains, the local Welsh beer, and really liked it--it's the best beer I've ever had, not sour at all, and I'm disappointed that it doesn't really exist outside of Wales (I've checked). Also, it was two pounds a pint, which is pretty amazing. Combined with the remarkable novelty of the name, Brains is an all-round winner when it comes to British alcohol. We lingered after dinner talking and watching some rugby, then left to make our way back to the hotel. It was around 8:30, I think. Part of me would have liked to stay out and find another pub and experience the nightlife of Cardiff (which was surprisingly hopping), but I had been awake for so long at that point that I knew I was too tired to actually enjoy going out. Alan and Rachel wanted to go in for the night, and I happily agreed to head in. Once we got back I knew it was a good decision because we decided to play rummy and near the end I am pretty sure I was actually dozing in and out of sleep.

The next morning we all tucked in at the hotel's included breakfast. It was quite a good breakfast, for a cheap hotel breakfast--there were two types of cereal, a variety of teas and coffees, juice, toast and even croissants. I loaded up on everything (I'm not ashamed to admit that I had both tea and espresso at the same meal). Our first stop of the day was at the cleverly named Big Pit Coal mine (the Welsh name, Pwll Mawr, is much prettier but unpronounceable). I've been down a mine before, the iron mine in Iron Mountain, but I was quite small at the time and I don't remember much except the cold and damp. The coal mine tour was quite cool. There were actually places in the mine where even I had to sort of double over to get through; I very rarely have to duck so it was quite a novel experience for me. The tour confirmed my previous notion that mining in the late 19th century was one of the world's most miserable existences. The worst story we heard was about the children who worked in the mine. Apparently, when the miners' children were about 6 years old they would be brought down into the mines to work as "trappers"--they were stationed near doors which needed to be opened and closed at strategic times to control airflow and allow the movement of coal and equipment through the mine. At this point in the tour, our guide had us all switch off our headlamps (we had on mining helmets with lamps). As you can imagine, it was total darkness, solid black. Our guide pointed out that for a 6 yr old child, this darkness (the kids weren't given candles) would be more than enough to send you running for the nearest exit. To prevent this, the children were actually tied to the doors they operated. And worked 12 hour shifts. And I'm sure when they grew up they became proper coal miners.

Our next stop was much sunnier--lunch in Monmouth, a town that I knew of because of Geoffrey of Monmouth, the medieval historian who wrote A History of Britain (by medieval, I don't mean he studied the medieval period, but that he lived and worked in the medieval period). Alan & Rachel and I got ourselves a nice carvery lunch at a local pub, and I had my final pint of Brains. And then (after several people were late back to the coach for ridiculous reasons) we were off to our final stop.

I was greatly annoyed with the people who were late at the end of lunch because their lateness literally ate away our time at the next stop--Tintern Abbey. Tintern Abbey was my reason for going to Wales. We didn't have enough time scheduled there to begin with, so when I lost ten minutes of that time to people who hadn't even heard of the Abbey until we got there I was apoplectic (or my version of apoplexy, which is to sort of sit quietly and imagine what it would be like to be a person with a temper--not very intimidating, I'm afraid).

The Abbey surpassed my expectations. After a rather whirlwind overview given by our tour guide, I had only 25 minutes in the ruin. 25 minutes! It wasn't even enough time to properly read the Wordsworth poem I'd taken the trouble to copy and bring along ("Lines Composed above Tintern Abbey"). If I'd planned the trip myself, the Abbey would have gotten at least three hours, probably four--enough to slowly amble over every inch of the place, enough to find a quiet spot in there to sit and leisurely read my Wordsworth, enough to write a bit in my journal, and enough to lie down on the grass inside of the Abbey and enjoy the sunshine. I may have to go back--I'm looking into whether it's a feasible day trip (and whether I have enough money).

In spite of being rushed, it was a most serene and impressive place. There was so much of it still intact; in the area that had been the chapel, it truly felt like you were standing in a great cathedral--a cathedral with lush grass underfoot, a ceiling that opened to the heavens, and the blue sky filling the windows. It was incredibly peaceful. The ruins are next to a lovely river in a pretty valley; there can't be many more picturesque places in the world. Of course the town itself is now quite touristy, but inside the ruins you still feel somewhat isolated and thoroughly serene. Or at least I did. The site certainly lived up to being the purpose of my trip. It is one of the greatest sights I've seen.

I departed the ruins reluctantly. But I wasn't the last one back; other people were late for stupid reasons (not late because they were enthralled by the ruins, but late because they had to buy a mug that said Wales on it). This time I was irritated because if I had known we'd be waiting for people to purchase mugs I could have had five more minutes wandering the Abbey. Anyway. From there we went back to London, arriving at Gloucester Rd around 6:30. A busy but beautiful and enjoyable weekend, all things told.

This weekend I'm actually in London--and so are Dad and Sue. I'm pretty excited to see them both, although I think it will be odd to see them in London; it's that whole intersection of two different environments. If either of you read this before you leave, please do bring me some Reese's cups. It would really make my weekend ;)