London Adventures

My friends Jill and Jade (I worked with them at B&N) came to visit London (and me!) this weekend, and this gave me the wonderful opportunity to do fun touristy things in London that I haven't had the chance to do yet, and to get out of my flat as I don't really like hanging out here that much. SO we did a bunch of things, most notably Westminster Abbey (lots of famous dead people--my dad would love it), attempted to see the changing of the guards and failed, and, of course, ABBEY ROAD! Finally I got my butt up there, along with Jill, and yes, we absolutely did the tacky picture thing. We met four American girls who took our picture, and we took theirs; though it was pretty sad that ours came out not so great, and the ones we took of them were fantastic (we're awesome photogs by the way).

Oh well, I can go back. And for whatever reason, we forgot to take a picture of the road sign. What were we thinking anyway? We also did a quick run to Baker Street and took a picture with the great detective himself. We looked very ponderous indeed.

Later that night after we made ourselves dinner, we went to see Spamalot!! We were so excited to go, and took pictures out front and everything.

We had bought our tickets from one of those "We sell half-price tickets!" places. A word to the wise: don't trust them.

We paid 40 pounds a ticket, thinking we had pretty good seats. When we got there, we went and looked for them. And this was basically our reaction:

"This can't be right."

We were in the second-to-last row on the uppermost floor. We could barely see the stage we were so far away. And the price on the ticket was 17.50 (which I think is still too much for the crap seats we got). But being the sneaky and selfish college girls we are, we managed to sneak down a great deal and steal some empty chairs. Every time people came in the theater and ushers looked for places to seat them, we got nervous, but the show began and they couldn't do much. One time they did tell us to move, but only to the row behind. Unfortunately at the interval (what they call intermission here) this usher was checking tickets because people were waiting to sit in the seats we were in. Oh well. We were sad, but the usher was GORGEOUS so we let it slide.

But Sarah, Jill's friend who came with her, saw some empty seats that were even closer to the stage. So while I waiting in line for the bathroom, they went scouting. And we got the seats. No one was sitting there and the view was great--we were on the first balcony (the circle) and in the front row. We could lean right over the edge and see almost everything perfectly--even make out features of the actors. It was pretty fantastic. The only awful thing, really, was that the toilets didn't flush there. For some reason. I thought that was dumb.

But Spamalot was wonderful and fantastic and great and I'm so glad I got to see it, especially with such great seats in the second act. :)

Whew! I'm back, everyone. Back from Wales after six nights, and what a time we had. I'll try to get you all up to speed, but it won't be easy. Here we go.

Nicki and I got up very early on Friday morning, in order to catch our 7:30 am bus to Cardiff. We spent about 3 1/2 hours on the bus, and then finally got there. It dropped us off right outside the castle. Now all we had to do was figure out how to get to Swansea.

So here we are, in a strange, new city, lugging around, well, luggage (I guess that's where the word comes from), trying to figure out if a bus can take us there. We know there is one somewhere; all we have to do is find the stop. We must have looked pretty confused and helpless, because not five minutes after we arrive, a very nice, very old man with a cane asks us where we need to go. "Swansea," we tell him, with wry looks. We know we're probably in the wrong place, which he then confirms for us. He lets us know we have to go to the bus station, and tells us how to get there. Already the Welsh are nicer than any other people I've met.

We get to the bus station, and end up having to wait an hour for the Swansea shuttle. Luckily I brought some books. Also luckily, when the bus comes, there is a compartment at the bottom where I can stow my suitcase. The bus ride takes an hour, during which it begins to rain. And I mean it was pouring. Great.

Once we get there, we get our stuff and start to make our way to our B&B, which happens to be on the other side of the city. Thank goodness it's not a big city. We have to walk there, because we don't really want to spend the cash on a cab, and so we consult my Wales travel book, made by Lonely Planet. Which, by the way, we probably wouldn't have been able to survive without. Lonely Planet rocks, if you ever need a guidebook. Once we get to the Harlton Guest House, we're soaked (as are all of the contents of Nicki's duffel bag). We're not too happy right now, but we decide we need to do what we came here to do. We go to the Dylan Thomas Centre, which we have to cross the city again to get to. And it's still raining. I'm just glad the ladies at the tourist information center were nice ladies who gave us good directions.

And the Dylan Thomas Centre turns out to be a bit of a disappointment. The only thing that was an actual relic, I guess you would call it, were the doors to the shed in which he wrote Under Milk Wood.

And then, to make my life more difficult, Nicki wants to go shopping. So we go from store to store in this shopping center (which actually was a pretty nice one). Meanwhile, I'm exhausted. We had gotten up around 6 that morning and had a terrible day, and I'm being dragged around a mall. Finally we go back. It's still raining. And we are cold and very wet.

That night was a relaxed night. We did nothing except read, take naps and watch TV on the tiny set Ron (the guy who owns the place) provided for us in our cozy room.

However, there was one incident that is worth mentioning. As we go up our stairs, the door to room 5 is wide open. The door faces the stairway directly, and the bed inside is right behind to doorway. So the guy inside gets a clear and close look at everyone going up and down. Lucky us.

"Hi, what are you doing here?" he greets us. He then proceeds to ask us where we're from and whether we aren't going out tonight. My inner alarm started to tell me to wrap up the conversation, which we did as gracefully as we could after sharing a look. Later that night Nicki (who thought that guy was Ron for whatever reason) said that she had imagined him saying, "Wanna party with the Ronmeister?" And he was known as the Ronmeister from then on.

The next morning was sunshiney and actually pretty warm, to our intense relief. Nicki wanted to go to the Mumbles, another part of town nearer to the coast (and also where Catherine Zeta-Jones built a $4 million mansion). We ate breakfast (Ron made it for us! The real Ron.) and then set off. The bus dropped us off near Oystermouth Castle, which is by the way my new favorite castle. No one was there because it was closed, but we could still walk up to it and around it, which we did. It was so great!!!

Then we went walking and found a cemetery, or at least a road that led to one. We started to walk up the long hill, when on the right hand side we found a nature conservation area. We took that little sidetrip, which really all it was was lots of trees, vines and daffodils, but it was nice. By the way, daffodils are the national flower of Wales. And they are freaking EVERYWHERE. In the wild, in people's yards, in front of buildings, you name it. And this day was St. David's Day (he's the patron saint of Wales), and on this day everyone wears daffodils on their lapels or around there. It's a good thing we knew this, otherwise we'd have thought every Welsh man, woman and child were absolutely insane.

Anyway, the cemetery. It was really one of the coolest places I've seen. HUGE burial ground, on a hill and in the little valley. Also lots of daffodils on graves, growing above those at rest. There were some of the most beautiful monuments and carvings I've seen at cemeteries.

We spent a while here, walking around and just looking at everything. There were a lot of people out walking their doggies too.

There were two of these little guys. I want one.

Unfortunately this is pretty much where the day stopped being good.

Around noon we were off to Cardiff again, this time to stay for two nights. It wasn't raining, which was great, and we were looking forward to the St. David's Day celebrations. We walked to our B&B, checked in and dropped off our stuff; and boy, was our room nice. We had our own bathroom with a shower, and it was huge. Unfortunately, I got a sinking feeling when I was thinking about the booking I did online. I pulled out the printout I had, and found this: our room was not 20 pounds a night per person, as I had thought; no, it was twice that amount. Fantastic. So because this was my fault, I told Nicki I'd buy her dinner. To cheer ourselves up, we went to find the festivities out in the city center. We walked around, confused as to why there was no parade or anything of the sort going on, and got to the tourist info place, where we asked what was happening for the day. The lady said "Lots!" followed by "But most of it is done by now." The only thing that we could even consider doing was the "Really Welsh Food Festival," down the street. We decided it was worth checking out, and we were starving anyway.

We got to where it was supposed to be. It turned out to be basically a tent, the kind you might go camping in at a Girl Scout weekend trip, with a few stalls in it. What a goddamn waste of time. At least I bought some really Welsh red mustard. That's really all that kept me going.

Later that evening, we went out looking for a restaurant and found this little gem: Old Orleans. An American restaurant. Oh god, this was the most entertaining place I've eaten in in a long time! They gave us popcorn instead of bread, and there were these decorations all around that were supposed to give off the feeling of "Americanness," I suppose. Mostly it was Mardi Gras and jazz stuff, since it was kind of based on New Orleans. Why they called it Old Orleans is anyone's guess. But apparently no one told them that Americans eat ribs with their hands instead of cutlery--I didn't even get a wet nap!! Stupid. But the great thing about this was they had Sam Adams Boston Lager, something I thought I'd never see in Europe. "Shipped from America!" they boasted. Those funny people.

The next day was much better. We went to Cardiff Castle in the morning, which was really cool and very ornately decorated inside (those Victorians will do it every time). Then, later that day we went to this place Nicki found in my guide book called St. Fagan's National History Museum. It was this awesome open-air museum that had tons of historical buildings brought there from around the country, and a bunch of cool stores like a bakery (delicious scones with jam and butter, and cheesey pastries, mmm). Also, it was at this place that we met the coolest man ever on the planet. His name was Geraint and he worked there. He got our attention when he told us the storage shacks we were looking in were for storing coal. He then asked us where we were from, where we'd be going while studying abroad, etc etc. THEN he talked to us for a really long time about Wales and the Welsh language and its history and where it's going. I know so much about it all now thanks to him. AWESOME guy. It was also especially funny when he made fun of New Jersey, not knowing that's where Nicki is from. He felt terrible, but we all were laughing pretty hard. Especially me.

That's him! Notice his scarf with the colors of the Welsh flag. He was really Welsh.

That was basically our entire day. Except that night, I had some Brains. Not the organ. That's gross. No, it is the local ale brewed in Cardiff and it's everywhere in Wales, but no where else that I've seen. And god, was it delicious. It was so good, it's a shame it's only in Wales.

The next day we said goodbye to Cardiff and went to Abergavenny. This was a convenient and cheap place to stay for what we wanted to do, so get off my case. At least three people asked us why we were staying there (two of these people lived in the town and the other was a bus driver). It felt like everyone we met thought it was weird we were there. Whatever.

We got to our hostel, dropped off our stuff again and set off to explore the town. We saw another castle (number 3) and went through a museum near it. Old castles are pretty awesome. There were also some great views of the surrounding mountains from up there.

But that night was pretty much a disaster. There was a pub downstairs from our room. It felt like I was in a dirtier, more racist version of Cheers. The lesson I learned that night was: never drink with old drunk men, because they will offer to drive you to your planned destination the next day and it will be super awkward every time you see him afterward. And if you're wondering, no we didn't take him up on the offer.

The next day was Tintern Abbey, which was wonderful. I loved it there; it truly was haunting, especially since we had audio tours and there were recordings of monks chanting and singing. It was great to imagine what it must have been like hundreds of years ago when the abbey was not falling apart, before Wordsworth was even born. It was beautiful.

Then, on a whim, we decided to go to Chepstow and see Chepstow Castle. This turned out to be a great idea; Chepstow Castle was awesome. Oystermouth is still my favorite, but Chepstow was grand and imposing and wonderful. It's also the oldest surviving castle in Britain, with its construction starting in the 1060s. It's Nicki's favorite castle.

Plus it had an awesome view.

And we got to try on war helmets from back in the day.

Then it was back to Abergavenny (after a nerve-wracking busride from Chepstow because we thought we weren't going to make it to Monmouth in time to make our connection and be stranded there) for the night. This time, no drinking in the downstairs pub.

The next day was our final full day in Wales. Our destination: Hay-on-Wye, second-hand book capital of the world. THE WORLD!!! And it is a well-deserved title. It was a fantasy freakin' wonderland for someone like me (and Nicki); there are 30 bookstores in this town with a population of 1,300. (!!!) Every street had at least one. It was crazy. Nicki and I went into at least 20 of them; I took pictures of as many as I could. And some of them had crazy themes, like there was one called Murder and Mayhem with all crime, mystery, and horror books.

Then there was Rose's Books which had a bunch of rare children's books, and there was a Renaissance bookstore, and bunches of others. Most were used bookstores, I went into one where they sold new ones. Even the cafes sold books. And I actually found a book I've been looking for since the seventh grade, called A Christmas Mystery by Jostein Gaarder. I've been interested in it since I read Sophie's World and read about it in the back of it. I also bought another one by him because I'm pretty sure I'll never find them again. AND I bought a Bill Bryson book I've never heard of about him traveling down Route 66, AND I got a big book of Irish ghost stories (at a used book store that used to be a movie cinema!). So all in all it was a great day of booky fun and adventure.

And that about does it for my trip to Wales. Today we woke up, got breakfast in town, and spent a total of 5 1/2 hours on two buses. And we are glad to be back, because at least now we know where the hell we're going. If you want more details about anything, feel free to ask me!