My Cardiff Adventure - Part II

"It was almost 2 ½ hours later when Catherine pulled up in the minivan after calling the house, once again, and finally getting an answer. I split my time between pacing and huddling in a nook in the building, reading, to shield myself from the cold coastal wind. What a sad case I was: cold, hungry, abandoned in a foreign country…kidding, it wasn’t that bad. The day did end quite nicely; the general order of things when I got back was dinner, ice cream, curling up on the floor in front of the fire like a cat until Catherine brought me tea and a biscuit (cookie), relocating to the couch to watch "Twins", a glorious bath and finally, bed. I barely remember shutting the light off and climbing in. Catherine took me on a bit of a detour on the way home to show me my first stone circle: the Gorsedd Standing Stones, erected around 1100 AD, pre-dating the Saxons; David’s just given me a mini-lesson on Welsh language and history, God bless ‘im. If anyone’s interested (and I was), it was built by the Bards (poets) who used it as a place of worship. To finish off my story, though, here’s the kicker: there was someone home all along. David was cleaning the car and couldn’t hear the phone ringing over the vacuum and since I assumed they would check their messages upon returning home, I didn’t call as often as I could have. The rest of the clan arrived home a while before I got a hold of anyone, but were in and out with the boys and Catherine apparently answered the phone a couple times to find no one there. I guess it was destiny; a test of patience. Catherine and I are leaving the kids behind and going to a 12th century church a few minutes from the house for their morning service."

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"We arrived back from Wales about an hour and a half ago; it’s nice to be home. So what can I say about a traditional Anglican mass besides being just that; rigidly so. The service followed a strict order complete with hymns, that horrible smelling smoke (they call it incense), the vicar singing the readings in a monotone chant-like manner, and plenty of congregational responses. It was the strangest thing: the vicar went through the whole service so straight-faced and methodical, then after the formal dismissal went to another pulpit, expressed a "good morning" to the congregation and proceeded to go through the notices with a completely different, laidback disposition; like the reins had been loosened. It made the whole thing seem a little…I don’t know…insincere; like, "Ok, now that we’ve got that over with…" I did, however, enjoy the experience and was even familiar with one of the hymns we sang: "Come to my heart Lord Jesus, there’s room in my heart for Thee." It’s not possible to say that God is not in a place where His word is being presented, but I have a hard time believing there is room for the Holy Spirit to move when every word that’s spoken is read and every action that’s taken is instructed; something to think about."

And that’s the end of my Wales experience (there are a few more pictures posted on the Flickr site).

I had a funny experience with Ann over the weekend. Catherine, Ann and I were all curled up on the couches on Saturday night with our tea watching TV and Catherine and I were having a conversation. Let me just remind you that she’s gone through a number of au pairs, a few of which didn’t have such a great grasp on the English language. During our conversation, Ann decided to pipe in with some additional information and began yelling at me as though there were a crowd gathered between us. Catherine burst out laughing and proceeded to explain: "She knows English, mom!" "Oh, right" she replied, sheepishly and amused, as we all had a good laugh.

Good news: we will not go bonkers during the car ride down to France. Tom put a couple coins in the CD player in the van a few weeks ago, which Jonathan and Catherine have tried a number of times to get out. I promised I’d give it a go over a week ago but hadn’t gotten to it until yesterday. Well I succeeded (persistence is key), which caused us both much excitement at the prospect of having more then just the radio to keep the kids quiet and entertained. She immediately called Jonathan to inform him; "Guess what Stacy did?" And to top it off, she rewarded me by letting me keep the cash: a 2 Pound coin and a 20 Euro cent coin…that’s worth about $4.27…score!

My Cardiff Adventure - Part I

"I’m sitting in the waiting room at the Port Talbot train station with about 15 minutes to spare until my train to Cardiff Arrives. An announcement just came over the loud speaker in Welsh. Not only did I not realize until the last two weeks that Wales had its own language, but the language itself is very similar to Gaelic (Scottish). I’ve always loved Celtic culture; it’s all enchantment and magic, fairies and folklore and the language is actually quite beautiful. So, my first solitary adventure in a foreign country is upon me. I feel like I’m at the threshold of some kind of a milestone; a step into the unknown."

"We’re on our way. The countryside is beautiful; lots of pastures and really old houses and stables. I can’t believe I’m here, traveling through Britain on a train on a beautiful summer’s day all by my lonesome; it seems a little unreal, like, "Am I really here? Could I possibly be this blessed?""

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"Back on, what I hope to be, the right train. What a wonderful day; although it’s only 3:15. The city of Cardiff is gorgeous and the weather stayed perfectly warm. There is absolutely nothing scary about exploring a foreign city on your own; it may as well have been Vancouver. Although I do have to say that I know it would have been that much more enjoyable had I had someone to share it with. By the end of it, I was tempted to strike up a conversation with a stranger on the street just so I could talk to someone. My first stop along the way was St. Johns Church; a beautiful old building right in the centre of the city surrounded closely by shops and restaurants. Imagine my surprise to see a poster on the gate advertising the next Alpha course? - Why is it that on a train that’s not even a ¼ full, an older gentleman has decided to sit directly across from me and stretch his legs out under the table to sleep, leaving me no room to put my feet? I swear, every time I readjust myself, he’ll move so his foot is just touching mine; I’m getting annoyed enough to switch seats. Ah, he finally twisted; he was starting to creep me out. - Back to Cardiff: I then went to Cardiff Castle and bought my ticket for the next available tour, scheduled an hour and a half later. Perfect, I thought, an hour and a half to see the city, then a tour of the castle and a train ride home…and it was. I visited the museum (although I was bored after 10 minutes), the law courts and city hall, watched a bit of a show that the students from the Welsh College of Music and Drama put on for the tourists, and perused the shop-lined streets, taking in the incredible architecture and the flurry of life around me. In one of the shopping centres, the walkways were about 4 feet wide and the ceiling was more of a yellow-hued, frosted skylight. Above the old-fashioned store faces were beautiful arched windows with flower boxes and trellises, so walking through felt like walking through an outdoor shopping centre in Tuscany, at dusk, on a warm summers evening. The only store I entered, and a highlight of my day, was a secondhand book shop that I found and I couldn’t help myself from purchasing just one book before leaving: "The Fancy" by Monica Dickens, printed in 1945. It cost me a whopping 20 pence (about $0.40). The interior of the castle was absolutely dripping with wealth; gold-leafed ceilings, awe-inspiring detail put into the wood work, and marble everywhere. The castle itself dates back centuries, but the current décor was done during the late 1800’s. Every room told a story and some took over 10 years to complete."

"I’ve arrived at the Port Talbot train station just to realize that the mobile number I’ve been given is inadvertently missing a digit and no one is home at the house. So here I sit outside of the station, having left a message on the machine, with not a clue how long I’ll be here for. Am I ever glad I brought my journal and have just purchased a new book. It’s not terribly warm either; the clouds are looming precariously and have taken on a rather dreary shade of grey. So the castle: ridiculously excessive and rather tacky at times, but beautiful none-the-less. At one point we had to walk down about 80 dimly lit spiral steps to the dining room and library; I don’t think I’ve ever been so disorientated. I had to keep telling myself to just put my foot down because at the end of it, I’d hesitate before taking a step because of a strange sensation that there would be no surface to land on. It was worth it, though; the library was a treat with its stocked shelves and large, beautifully carved hearth. All in all, it wasn’t wet-yourself exciting, but I’m glad I took the tour. After a stop at Subway, I made my way back to the train station just in time for a quick wee before boarding the train; which brings me to my current situation: sitting on a block of cement with my journal on my lap and my bags safely tucked beneath my legs. I had a lovely conversation with Catherine’s mom, Ann, over breakfast this morning. She was telling me about a trip to Canada her and her husband, David, took with his choir a couple years ago. They went to Edmonton, Calgary, Banff and Jasper and even stopped in on Vernon because of some kind of a Welsh society that resides there. She was telling me of a certain attraction that they saw on a bus with really large wheels: "The Aberdeen (?) Glashers". She told me this as though I should know all about it, but my ignorance was made apparent by the blank stare I was bestowing on her. She repeated it a couple more times, but that didn’t change the fact that I had never heard of a "glasher"…but wait…"oh, I get it…glacier"; that darn language barrier again. There’s a police station across the street, I wonder if they cross reference mobile numbers?…naw, better not leave in case someone comes by to get me..."

…to be continued…

Wales...at last.

Travel plans have changed a little over here. We won’t be going to Disneyland in Paris on the way to the coast; they’ve decided it’s too out if the way. We might still go there on a separate weekend, though. No complaints here, I’m still spending a week on the French coast and staying in a couple incredibly beautiful hotels en route there and back. Check them out: http://www.pavillondegouffern.com/ & www.chateau-saintpaterne.com.

I found out this week that Nina’s "friend" is someone she met in the same way that we connected and they’ve only met once. So, it’s basically four strangers from four different countries, with four different mother tongues, meeting up for one crazy weekend in London; one from Canada, one from Finland, one from Austria and one from South Africa. How unbelievably cool is that? It somehow makes the world seem so much smaller.

I started one of the antique books: The Pilgrims Progress, written by one John Bunyan in 1675. I’m a little concerned about getting through it, though, because the ways we entertain ourselves in this day and age are a little more extreme and fast paced then in the 17th century, therefore it can sometimes take quite a bit to hold our attention; I’ll let you know how it goes down.

***Everything written above was done so before leaving for Wales on Friday afternoon***

"We’ve just returned home from a good long walk along the beach followed by the greasiest fish & chips I’ve ever ingested. Did you know they serve something called a faggot, here? Faggots and peas; I felt like I needed to wash my mouth out with soap just asking what it was. My body has been completely overtaken by that wonderfully intoxicating comatose sensation you get after being cold due to a prolonged blast of strong ocean wind. I’m currently curled up on a couch in Catherine’s parents’ conservatory, warm and cozy, reveling in comfort as shivers go up and down my spine. We arrived at our destination just after 4:00pm; an old steel town in Wales called Port Talbot. The town has been around for centuries, but I believe the steel mill that was built on the water in the early 1900’s was responsible for the majority of its growth and development. Jonathan’s father was killed there when Jonathan was in his early 20’s. So many of the neighborhood streets here are lined with rows of long, skinny, identically styled, stucco houses that are literally attached to each other, with only a slight variation in color and landscaping. It’s actually sort of an incontestably more charming version of New Westminster. The Welsh are a very proud people and I mean that in the most commendable way possible. Never say to a Welsh person that Wales is not its own country; it’s like saying that Canada is part of the United States and we’re all Americans. One of the first things that Catherine’s father, David, said to me upon arrival was "I hope you know that Wales is its own country...", or something of that nature. I laughed at this because Catherine had just spent 10 minutes explaining it to me on the drive over. Basically, we all believe that Scotland is its own country, well Wales is governed in the exact same way; Northern Ireland, as well. Did you know that a Scottish person and a Northern Irish person can both be correctly identified as British? Did you also know that the queen rules England, but Charles "rules" Wales (hence, the "Prince of Wales") and when Charles takes over the kingdom, William will then begin his reign as the "Prince of Wales"?"

"I’ll be taking the train to Cardiff tomorrow morning on my own; which I’m really looking forward to. Cardiff is the capital of Wales and is apparently home to a lot of really beautiful buildings."

…to be continued…