A Weekend Away in Wales

In early February I decided a weekend a way was needed. Cardiff is just over two hours away by train, and Wales had been calling me to visit for some time. I heard mixed reviews about Cardiff, and having spent the weekend there, I understand why. I loved the city personally, but it is edgy to the point where it feels a little angry, if a city can have an underlying energy of anger. Like in so much of the UK, history is everywhere in and around Cardiff. Old buildings with interesting details were everywhere in Cardiff, but it took some attention to environment to see them, because they are squeezed in to everything else and without being mindful of what I was looking at, I would have missed some impressive and beautiful buildings. Take for example, the picture above. This beautifully crafted and incredibly old looking building actually houses Cardiff''s version of Perkins. Steak and eggs for five pounds, lots of tables, lots of families, lots of noise. I really enjoyed the juxtaposition of a building like this, housing a restaurant like that.


The photo to the left is of a mystical spot near the castle in St. Feagen's open air Folk Museum. It was an excellent museum that I spent several enjoyable hours exploring but this spot was the only place where I felt pulled by magic.



The photo below is a picture of a lovely park that is near the Wales National Art Museum. What really caught my attention though, is not the Grecian gazebo, but all of the the groups of hard-core, punked out teenagers that were loitering in large and small groups in every corner of the park. As the sun set the kids arrived. I left, but I was tempted to stay to see if it was the kind of park that inspired many of the gang happenings in West Side Story. They were all so punk. Punk, Goth and Emo kids (and adults) were everywhere I went in Cardiff and they often appeared in big numbers.



The photo below is what I thought was an old and well crafted chicken coop. Turns out it is a dove (pigeon?) coop that was a common thing to have in parts of Wales in the 1940-50s. Wild


The photo to the left is an early 1900s kitchen. I love the plate that says Thou God Seeth me. Indeed.
This was a superb little record shop. Spillers claims they are the oldest record store in the world - which could be true. I picked up the record of a great Welsh band called JOYA (which I bought so I could mail it to my friend Joya, but it turns out they have a good sound so, total bonus!)

The guy with the guitar (Atchin?) kept me entertained while I was waiting for a bus to take me to the pier. He was a lovely, gracious, good humored man who wanted to know, after discovering I was American, if I loved Gordon Lightfoot. He then proceeded to sing that song, The Edmund Fitzgerald (?) about the ship that sank in Lake Superior. He was funny and seemed like a wonderful man to know. I aspire to become how carefree he seemed. Someday, my spirit will be that free.


I am not positive, but if memory serves, this lovely building is Cardiff City Hall, located on the Harbor that takes ships out to sea.


And finally, even though there are so many photos of castles, city gates, city walls and other kinds of tributes to the history of this lovely land throughout my blog, I could not resist including this picture of the gate that was once connected to the wall that kept Cardiff in, and kept all that was not Cardiff, out. Good stuff. I can't wait to see more of Wales, but Cardiff satisfied my want for a weekend away just perfectly.

It's really starting to get to me

Here I am again. I just wanted to blog a moment about how, now that it feels like my time in London is finite (although I have made no actual decisions about when I am leaving) I am starting to finally feel like London is my European home. I have moved out of the sensation of being a visitor who lives here and into the feeling that this city, in some small way, belongs to me.

I love London. It's totally true and it just sort of happened. I have always felt thrilled to live here, but now I am experiencing the sentiment that comes with attachment. I am not lost every second anymore. I know some train and tube routes without looking at the map. I am starting to see the city as a whole and I am feeling rather smitten. It's a spooky, gritty, high-class city with a strange energy that combines the modern and starkly urban with the classic and or classically arcane. It's Dickinson meets trending who falls in love with Audrey Hepburn who is best friends with Posh Spice. It's high heels 24/7 even if you're wearing leg warmers with skinny jeans. It's black with brown, scarves with short sleeves, skinny people everywhere with obesity as a big spin news headline. It's reality TV on the BBC, it's shoe repair shops in a place where you can also get a duplicate key made. It's a town that doesn't judge a girl for ordering a skinny mocha with whip cream. It has gross beef and incredible chicken. I can get to France by train in 2 hours and to Italy or Morocco by plane in 2 hours. It's social policies support gay marriage but do Jack for preventative social services. It is such an amazing place to live. The contradictions are enormous and observable and frustrating and yet, all of sudden, I find it all endearing. I don't know how I am going to leave here. Of course, I already know I can't stay. Time will tell me how to reconcile it all I'm sure, but for the moment, I thought I would share some very regular pictures of everyday London that illustrates (at least for me) what an extraordinary city this is. I am so, very lucky.


This is the view from my flat after the first winter snow fall.







Yep, it's a dog date on the train.


The Royal Courts of Justice is one of the most beautiful London buildings that I have experienced. Near by, the Bung Hole appears to be a fairly fancy lunch-spot with a wine bar. What could Bung Hole mean to the English? I laugh out loud every time I see it.


The River runs through the Paddington neighborhood. It's lovely. Just gorgeous.