South Wales

Here we go:

Friday:

I left my room at 6:30, rushing to catch the bus. I get to the city centre and walk around searching for the bus station, which I'd been to but I was pressed for time, so a bit stressed. Of course, I was right across the street from it for twenty minutes. Anyway, I figure it out just in time, with mere seconds to spare, and get on the bus to the ferry. I get the ferr,y which is a huge process: you get a print out of your ticket confirmation, then you get your ticket, then you go through security, then up some stairs to a waiting room, then down some stairs, more security (which was really just people with badges standing around looking bored out of their minds), and then you get onto a bus, which takes you to the ferry, where you get off and get on the actual ship. Wheew! Did you follow that?

I get to Holyhead, and have twenty minutes to catch my train. I wander around for a minute, thinking the ferryport and train station are connected (which they are), but the train station was like ghost town, so I doubted myself. I asked for help, was redirected, and then got my ticket (which was pricey). Okay, now I have even less time, so I rush to get the train, and just make it. I change trains in Shrewsbury, Wales, and then disembark in Newport, S. Wales. Dasha, the woman I was couch surfing with, was waiting to pick me up at the carpark (which was another kind of nightmare to find.)

Dasha showed me around her house, and then introduced me to her daughter, Jessica (19) who comes home many weekends from university, and her son who lives at home, Dan (28). They were both wonderful. Dan is hilarious, and Jessica and I bonded over Sex in the City and Friends reruns.

Dasha was having friends over for dinner. Neil, her friend who is English, and his girlfriend Gwen, who is French. Neil and Gwen live in South Africa, and were visiting Neil's family and friends in Wales. Dinner was amazing. Some rock band was played, and there was just lots of good conversing. We listened to some songs by Stephen Lynch. Gwen and I got along great, especially because were the two non-English/Welsh outsiders. The whole night was a wonderful intermingling of accents, customs, heritages, and all that jazz. Invaluable.

Saturday:
I started off by 9, and went to a cemetery right next to Dasha's house, which is the oldest cemetery in the UK (allegedly.) Anyway, it was absolutely fabulous. I spent an hour getting lost among all the stone angels and headstones, and then went to the train station (an easy walk from her house.) I caught the bus to Cardiff, which was an easy 15 minutes. At Cardiff (the capital of Wales), I looked into a bus to go to St. Fagan's, the tourist event/museum that Dasha insisted I had to visit. Unfortunately, I had just missed the bus, which only came once an hour. So, I wandered around Cardiff city for a bit, which was fabulous. And then, behold! At the end of a street, just minding everyone's business, sits gigantic Cardiff Castle. I wanted to turn to the person next to me and say, 'Uhm, excuse me, do you see that?'

Anyway, I went in, got a souvenir, and then off I went to explore the castle. You get an audio tour guide which was pretty cool. The castle is basically like this: a well preserved old castle, that this guy bought/inherited in the 1800's. He, and his son after he passed on, took it upon themselves to spend their lives restoring and preserving the castle, which included lots of excavations and bringing in archeologists constantly to make sure nothing was missed and the history was accurate.

I spent a good three hours there, and could have spent more, but had to get the bus to St. Fagan's. Anyway, I got a wee bit lost, so instead of getting the 1:2o bus I got the 2:20 bus. The bus stop was right outside an entrance that wasn't the main one, but one right infront of a castle. Oh my gosh. I want a castle. You know how little girls grow up wanting a pony? Well, I want one of those too, but castle's kick ponies' butts right now. Anyway, there were these amazing gardens, which I'm not going to even try to describe. I had some crackers and a nectarine while sitting among the trees. I fed some baby ducks. And then I actually did the seeing.

St. Fagan's is hard to explain, but I'll try. It's a "museum", but not the kind you or I know. It's basically this castle and a bunch of land, that Cardiff bought and then decided to make into this incredible place. So, they uprooted a bunch of ancient buildings and moved them into the "backyard" of the castle. So, there was a boat house, and fishery, and a wool mill (run by water even today!), a dovecote, a townhome, etc. that are all old but bought and then relocated. Inside these dwellings are artifacts (in comes the "museum" aspect). For example, in the wool mill there was a guy making wool the modern way, but there were also samples of all the old tools used to make wool over time. Anyway, I spent a good two hours there, and even got to read among the gardens and eat some homemade Irish ice cream (very good, and the ice cream scooper was a cute young man.)

So, I left St. Fagan's and went back to the city centre with some time. So, I wander around a bit more, and then looked for a place to eat. I decided upon this cute place called Bella Italia, apparently an Olive Garden equivalent in the UK. I had an hors'de... of olives, then a main dish of goat cheese, spinach and tomatoes (no sauce though!), and then an amazing truffle/mousse cake, which was not too rich, and a nice glass of wine (not a puny one for being 'small'.)

So, I caught the bus back to Newport, walked back to Dasha's house, and had a lovely time chatting with her daughter and watching TV. Sunday morning I chatted with Dasha and her daughter for three hours, then hurried off to go back to Dublin. It was a very long and stressful (again, catching everything in time as I only had minutes in between my connections) trip back.

Back in Dublin Sunday night I met some interesting CA boys on the bus, and am still kicking myself for not giving them my number, because they were looking to hang out in Dublin for a bit and I guided them to Temple Bar, the bar scene in the city centre. Anyway, I'm waiting on O'Connell St. to get my bus back to Santry, and this random guy comes up to me... I'll spare you the fifteen minute conversation, but let me just say it was amusing to me, a bit offensive, and probably not the most appropriate as far as PC goes. But, I gave him my email, because he is supposedly going to email me 24 questions, which after I answer them and he analyzes my responses, he will know everything about me. The psychologist in me was utterly fascinated, while trying to not be insulted. I don't consider myself easily offended, but I was tired and taken aback by his abrupt conversation. An amazing story I wrote down for myself, tough, because I wouldn't want to forget it. We'll see if he emails me...

And here we are. Pictures to come... (some awesome pictures at that!)