Well it has been a whole 24 hours since I left San Jose. I am writing from my new flat in
Cardiff. I live in a tiny room, located
in a small home, on Woodville Road in Cardiff.
Twenty-four hours ago, I left my family and friends in San Jose and
embarked on a new adventure. I left not
knowing what would befall me. The day
before I left I heard my visa was denied but after discussing the possibilities
with my Professor, I decided to come anyway.
On the plane I first sat next to a kind English gentleman named
Robert. We spoke for awhile about
England and the Bay Area. He then traded
out his seat with his young son, Toby, who after our introductions began
watching some sort of car movie. Toby
was a nice boy and behaved quite well throughout the journey.
On my right, was a rather attractive Swede named Elin. (pronounced A-leen) She lives in the United
States and goes to school at DeAnza. She
was very pleasant and we spoke for several hours. I tried to nap but never met with success. (this means I am writing this without having
slept in 30 hours—yikes)
When we disembarked I made it through a very long line at
Customs and they let me through to go learn Welsh. I quickly left Heathrow for the comforts of
my old haunts in Kensington, where I topped up my phone, got internet, ran some
quick errands, and got lunch/dinner/breakfast at Pret and cookies at Ben’s
Cookies. Then I booked it to Paddington
Station as I thought that my train to Cardiff was leaving soon. When I got there, I printed my tickets and
rushed to the platform to find that I still had a two hour wait. Not wanting to leave the station I sat down
next to the bronze Paddington Bear and devoured my sandwich and then proceeded
to doze. That lasted for nearly an hour
and then I grew nervous that if I fell asleep I would miss my train—so I passed
the next hour watching pigeons.
When it came time to embark on my journey to Cardiff, I
boarded the train and found a seat next to some middle aged women returning to
Cardiff from a day in London. They
seemed safe enough, until I realized that they had had a bit too much to drink
and were quite loud. They were pleasant
and their accents were charming so their loudness was easily overlooked. They were a group of secondary school
teachers celebrating the retirement of one of their number. Throughout the train they grew louder and
louder as the wine bottles grew empty and the corks from champagne bottles flew
through the air.
The English Countryside is truly lovely. As we trained along, I kept looking out and
seeing tiny hamlets and villages with church spires, fields, and quaint
cottages that seemed oh so inviting.
Maybe I am not a city person after all.
Finally we crossed the Welsh Border, and the signs gained many consonants
and lost all of their vowels. I arrived
in Cardiff, relieved to have made it to my destination and anxious for a shower
and bed. I took the first taxi leaving
the station for my new address on Woodville Road and spoke with the charming
driver, Phil, about the Welsh Language, History, the history of Brittany, and
the linguistic parallels between Welsh and Breton. He was just great. 6 pounds lighter, I arrived at my new home
and immediately left to go find groceries before all the shops closed.
Going to Tesco was nearly a religious experience as I found
so many foods that I thought I had tasted for the last time. Heavily laden with lamb, pork, pasta, and
vegetables, I returned home. There, I received
my room assignment and immediately went up stairs to start unpacking. The layout of the room was completely
unsuitable so I moved furniture for a little while and now I am quite settled. As it looks like it is time for bed I am signing
off. Until tomorrow, Hwyl!
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