Getting There

A Weekend in Wales

Friday morning I caught the train for Cardiff.  It was amazingly easy to make connections and make my way to the Llandaf section of Cardiff.  Meeting my cousin, Rachel, was special. We hadn't seen each other in about ten years.  We celebrated with breakfast of fried eggs, beans, toast banger, bacon and tea at a local establishment.  We then took a walk to her allotment...where she was given a portion of land to farm in the city.  However, just before we got to there, she got a phone call and we turned around to meet a surprise.  We rounded the corner to see a figure at the end of the drive...it was Jane, Rachel's sister and my second cousin.  She had driven up for the weekend with us.  I hadn't seen the two of them together since 1990.  Having us together insured that there would be a lot of laughing this weekend and there was.

Jane, Jake, Me and Rachel in Rachel's garden...having tea.

Rachel's allotment in the shadow of the local train.

We looked at Rachel's allotment that she has spent two years getting in order and is generating a good amount of vegetables.  We met Jonathan a young occupational therapy student who is sharing Rachel's farmland.

 The Allotment with Rachel and Jonathan, her tenant farmer :)

After our tour, we loaded up the cars and heading for the Gower peninsula and Rachel's holiday caravan.  Sitting in the dunes of Rhosilli Bay this is a magical place.  Miles of flat sands, wonderful surf over looked by the headlands of Gower.  The Worm enclosed the south end of the bay and The Island the north.  Surfers all over, hikers everywhere.

Rhosilli Bay (click on this photo to get a better look)

the town of Rhosilli on the left...then The Worm....the bay and in the upper right paragliders

Overlooking Rhosilli Bay

Which way to go?

I got to meet a few of Rachel's neighbors. Gerry O'Connell is an Irish-born Welshman with an incredible life history.  An orphan, given to the Jesuits in Ireland he did not have a good upbringing.  But when he turned 22 he heard that his brother, whom he had never met was living in London and off he went.  A self-declared rouge, he became a successful insurance agent in Cardiff and now lives on the ocean entertaining anyone who will listen with his wonderful stories about Ireland, Wales and his beloved children.  Gerry and I spent several hours sharing stories.

I got to take several hikes around the area...up the headlands, down the beach..over to the Worm...it was sunny, even hot and we ended our stay with a lunch of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding....what a great weekend.

Becoming a Brit

Here I am in Kingston-on-Thames Market Square

I have been here nearly a week now and the process of fitting in here is made somewhat difficult by the way the Brits are scared of everything.  An example: I cannot get a cell phone until I get a bank account...I can't get a bank account until I have a utility bill, I can't get a utility bill as I am living at the school, thus I have to wait for a tax bill before I can get a bank account which will allow me to get a cell phone.

Not completely understanding the differences between US and UK electrical systems I goofed up a bit.  I bought a plug adapter thinking that was all I needed to do to connect some of the things...principally camera stuff.  Well the school put me up in a local hotel for the first four nights I was here.   And I was able to plug in my laptop to do some work just using the plug adapter.  So I figured I could plug in the power strip I brought so I could charge my camera batteries.  Well as I plugged the power strip in...BAM...sparks flashing...the TV in the room went out...and the outlet lost power.  I went to the front desk to say what had happened...the nice gentleman at the desk didn't know what to do so he moved me to another room.  In the morning the hotel got an electrician in...when I got back to the hotel that afternoon the desk clerk, Christine, said..."Mundawg, whatever you did last night...don't do it again."  I said...believe me I have no intention of plugging anything in.  Apparently my exploration with electricity darkened half of the hotel.  I have yet to find anyone who can tell me what of my things will work here and what won't, but I am not risking any of my photo drives until I am absolutely sure.  If only Delta (TSA) had let me bring my battery, which I have since been told was about as safe a battery as there is on the market.  Oh well, the sparks were kinda cool.

Other than the government and institutional regulations, individuals I have met have been chatty for the most part.

My flat is comfortable if a bit small. It has the basics and the building it is in is quite charming if you look beyond the fact that most all the other rooms are classrooms. The building is an old carriage house/stable with a cool clock tower, cobbled courtyard and arches to get here and there.  The flat, otherwise known as an apartment on the other side of the pond, has a sitting room, long narrow kitchen, with a washer/dryer, stove, granite counter and plenty of storage.  The sitting room opens on to a balcony over looking "the close."

I am currently sitting in a local coffee shop...very Starbuckish, listening to National Public Radio's Dianne Rehm show on nhpr.org.  It keeps me connected with the colonies, which I need right now.

So to the title of this posting..."Becoming a Brit" I don't think that will happen but I do intend to survive.