Mid-term, Pt. 1: Wales

Friday morning Liz, Whitney, and I took a train to Cardiff, Wales. I didn't know a whole lot about Wales, other than the history I was learning from Stephen Lawhead's King Raven Trilogy and the comment on a tourism site, "Wales shares an island with England and Scotland" (Wales is, in fact, a part of the United Kingdom).
This is what I learned:

~Nice hostels aren't always quiet hostels. Our hostel was recently renovated, as was pretty obvious. The halls leading to the dorms were lit by magenta blacklights, and the room numbers were displayed on the doors with blue spotlights. Unfortunately, this seemed to be just the place for a lot of partyers for the weekend, making for a loud couple of nights. Overall, though, it was a very clean and decent hostel, complete with free tea and coffee at all times. Our one roommate was very sweet, a 24-year-old master's student at a university down the street from our school. She wasn't too interested in the party scene, so we ended up hanging out with her Saturday night and watching School of Rock in the t.v. lounge.

~The Welsh are outrageously friendly! On Saturday we walked about 3 1/2 miles down the river to Cardiff Bay. It's a beautiful little bay town, so much fun. When we first got there we saw a lighthouse statue in front of the police station, and on the rocks at the base were written random words like Texan, Tiger growling, Italian, and toaster. We really wanted to know the meaning behind the words, so we decided to be brave and go inside the police station. Expecting a short, impatient answer from a tired officer, we were pleasantly surprised to find a Welsh woman who was very eager to help us. She didn't know the answer, so she asked her co-worker, called a few other co-workers, looked online, did everything she could possibly think of to find our answer! The final answer: it's modern art, there's no meaning to the words.
After our police station experience, we visited the Bay, where we went to the National Assembly Rooms. The women at the front desk answered all our random questions on Wales (about 22% spoke Welsh as a first language about 8 years ago, the number is now larger), but they also printed out all the info we could need for our next museum adventure, St. Fagin's.
On Sunday afternoon Whitney and I were going to check out Moriah Chapel, the place where the Welsh Revival took place in the early 1900s. Well, we didn't know how to get there, so while I was trying to get info from Liz who was online back in London, Whitney boarded a bus and asked the bus driver where it was. He had no idea, and he told her to ask the people on the bus. She did it--she asked the full bus how to get to Moriah Chapel! After everyone said they didn't know, one old man told us where he thought there was one. Our problem was solved, and we only lost our pride.
When we did visit Moriah Chapel for their afternoon worship service, the caretaker was very pleased to show us around and make sure I got a million photos. Although he was so Welsh we couldn't understand a lot of what he said, he was very, very friendly. The people there wouldn't let us get a bus-- the visiting pastor insisted on driving us back to Swansea, and then he took us on a long driving tour of the stunning Swansea coastline. The kindness of Wales was above and beyond what we needed or expected.

~I don't know Welsh, nor do I have the ability to pronounce Welsh. While boarding the bus to Moriah Chapel, I asked for a return ticket to Loughor. The bus driver didn't understand me. I tried again. He still couldn't figure out what I was saying. I yelled to Whitney, who was standing behind 2 giggling preteen girls, and she told me to spell it. I did, and after a moment the bus driver said, "Oh!" and spoke a name which sounded like "l-wispycough-ah." I didn't even try to pronounce it again. Pride? Gone!

~Whitney is an amazing friend. I was ready to give up on finding Moriah Chapel, but she went above and beyond to try and figure out how to get there. She didn't even care about seeing it, but she made sure I was able to go.

~Wales is very different from England. I learned a lot of this while talking to our tour guide pastor. While perhaps not as vocal or politically strong as Scotland, Wales does not like England, nor does it want to be British. Everywhere we looked there was a red dragon or a daffodil, the symbols of Wales. Every sign was both in Welsh and English. The people are friendlier than in London, much more emotional than the stoic English. They have great pride in their culture, something which I think a lot of the English have lost in their quest to be British.

So how was Wales? It was wonderful, a beautiful place full of great people. Yet I don't feel the same sort of connection there that I do in England or Scotland, the feeling that there's something more here, that I belong here for a longer amount of time than a visit. I definitely want to go back to Wales, but right now I don't think it's going to hold the same sort of place in my heart as England.

Beauty

Although the underground system is full of crowds and pollution, I get excited when I see a new poster advertising a museum or West End show- bright colors or calming artwork- beauty in the midst of the dull and industrial.
The old buildings lining the streets of London tend to be grouped in blocks of identical narrow brick structures, yet the nameplates next to each door are unique to the personalities of the owners- individual beauty in the midst of cookie cutter beauty.
There are quite a few bridges in London, and all of them are either decorated in some vibrant way or designed so uniquely that they are stunning. Beauty in the midst of functionality.
A church is very much alive, even teaches Freedom classes. But they don't meet in a school building or warehouse (like I'm used to). They meet in a building that's at least 75 years old and has stained glass windows and paintings lining the walls. Physical beauty in the midst of spiritual beauty.
You walk down a random central London street, past Sainsbury's Express grocery stores and Pret a Mange organic cafes and Caffe Nero coffee shops and Carphone Warehouse cell phone stores, and there, in the middle of the buildings is a park. It's not a big park, and it's just one in many in central London. But here, in this spot, it provides a green escape from the gray of the city. Beauty in the midst of the crowded.

Over the last three months I've come to appreciate beauty. England has an appreciation for beauty which I think has been lost in the utilitarian, independent, achieving society of America. We need achievers and hardworking people in our society, yes, but I feel like Americans have lost something in our goal-oriented mentality. Gazing on beauty has no tangible value, so we dismiss it as laziness, unless we have already accomplished all of our tasks for the day and are "taking it easy." Yet this is not how we were meant to be.

Scotland

I know this is late, but I wanted to say a little bit about what my trip to Scotland was like. Our whole school of 29 American students and 1 poor somewhat older British teacher went to Edinburgh last week, Wednesday-Friday.
The train ride was beautiful. It took about 4 hours, and I can only imagine how gorgeous it must be when it's not cloudy. Some areas were snowy, making it even more beautiful as patches of white appeared now and again in the middle of green fields and eventually gray rocky cliffs. So stunning.
The hostel was like a combination between camp and a hotel- bunkbeds in a hotel room without the free toiletries. So much nicer than I expected, so great.
We explored Edinburgh castle, which was quite fun. Honestly, I feel like the excitement of a castle kind of dies down after about half an hour of roaming the stone buildings in frigid, rainy weather. It did have a beautiful view of the city, and great hot chocolate at the cafe, though.
We went to an art museum and a history museum. I definitely appreciated the history museum better- Katy and I spent a long time on just 1 of the 5 floors, exploring the history of Scotland. If you ever want to learn about some huge injustices, explore the history of Scotland. It's full of injustice and atrocity, and ended its life as a nation when its bribed government leaders voted it out of existence. It's a fascinating and sad story that is still being played out.
I went to a pub with a few friends. Very low key, which was nice. One of my friends asked if there was such a thing as a Scottish wine since she doesn't like beer. The bartender laughed and said, "Are you kidding me? Have you seen this weather?" That meant no. She ended up with a strawberry beer which was much better than the pale ale that I had (I've decided that I just don't like beer and I can't change that).
We climbed a hill overlooking the city, and in the freezing, windy weather some of us climbed Nelson's Monument, a tower that gives an incredible view of the city. In this picture, if you see a hill to the right, the castle is on top of it.

We went to the Scottish Parliament building. Interesting fact: in 1999 Great Britain allowed Scotland to form its own Parliament for the first time since 1707 I believe. Scotland wanted to build the building on the hill where the Nelson monument is (there is plenty of space). Instead, Great Britain made them build it in the lowest valley in the city. Anyway, it's a very cool building, and this is a picture of the room where they vote and debate and such.

I wish I could tell more about my trip, but I am simply too tired to write it all now. I will say, however, that this is an incredible nation originally designed to endure hardship with amazing joy. I want to go back to Scotland. I don't know how to describe how I feel about it, but there's so much more that I want to see and discover about the land, I don't think I'm done there.
Here's a poem that I wrote last week to describe the city. It's rough, but hopefully it will give you at least something of a picture of what is really a beautiful land.

Edinburgh
Gray stone layered on gray stone,
Elegant in its blank, bare beauty.
It had a life once, did it not,
When the gray was as silver fresh off
The forge? But smoke soon smothered
In the name of progress, and builders
Demolished in the name of development.
What's left stands bravely, lovely, darkly,
Defying any who would think it dull, yet
Whispering silently, longing for something
More. In the sound of cars, buses, and rain
I can barely hear the prayer: give me life!