Wales: Castles, Rugby and Finding My Feet in Cardiff
From the Travel with Sheridan archives: This story comes from my 2009 Europe trip. Places, prices and logistics reflect the trip as I experienced it then.
Some trips start with a plan. This one started with friendships that had already stretched across the Atlantic. I knew Steve, Pete and some of the others through Nai, a Welsh friend in Los Angeles, so I was not arriving in Wales as a complete stranger. Staying with Steve meant I had people there who were ready to show me around, introduce me to friends and give me a version of Wales I never would have found from a guidebook alone.
The flights were smooth, and I landed at Heathrow tired but excited. Steve was waiting, and before we even headed west toward Cardiff he made a detour to Windsor Castle. We explored Queen Mary's Dolls' House, St. George's Chapel and the State Rooms, and I got my first castle fix before I'd even reached Wales. Queen Mary's Dolls' House was especially fascinating: an elaborate miniature world with working lights and plumbing, tiny books and an absurd amount of detail. It was a pretty good way to begin three weeks in Europe.
Once we reached Cardiff, Steve had another surprise waiting: my first rugby match. Pete and Brocky joined us for Cardiff Blues against the Llanelli Scarlets at the new Cardiff City Stadium, and I discovered that rugby is fast, hard-hitting and confusing as all hell if you are coming in cold. Brocky cheerfully admitted she still didn't understand it half the time, which made me feel considerably better. Watching it also made American football look a little wimpy by comparison. I remained convinced they were making up at least half the rules as they went along. Afterward there was beer and cider and the chance to finally spend time with people I'd known from across an ocean.
The next morning Steve made a full English breakfast and Pete and Brocky joined us. Eggs, sausages, bacon, mushrooms, beans, toast, tea—the whole thing. I was still adjusting to British bacon, which seemed suspiciously like weak striped bacon to me, but the breakfast itself was impressive. Holy guacamole, these people eat a lot first thing in the morning.
Our destination that day was Big Pit, the National Coal Museum of Wales. We arrived too late for the underground tour, but the visit still gave me a glimpse into the mining history that shaped so much of Wales. It was also exactly the sort of stop I might not have chosen on my own, which was part of the pleasure of staying with someone local. I wasn't just seeing a list of Welsh attractions; I was getting some of Steve's Wales.
From there we drove to Caerphilly Castle, and I was instantly smitten. The enormous stone walls, water surrounding the defenses and the famous leaning tower were exactly the sort of thing that makes me want to wander around for hours. Unfortunately, we had arrived too late to tour the interior. I also discovered that despite hauling my camera equipment across the Atlantic, I had left every compact flash card I owned back at Steve's house. So I walked around outside with my little point-and-shoot camera, took what pictures I could and promised myself I would come back before I left Wales.
That evening was considerably less historic. We ordered Domino's and I became fascinated by the British menu—Tandoori Hot pizza, loaded potato skins and combinations I never saw at home—then watched Once Were Warriors. It was one of those ordinary evenings that travel needs occasionally, especially when jet lag is still lurking in the background.
When Steve went back to work, Cardiff became mine to explore during the day. I wandered through Cardiff University in the autumn and briefly wanted to go back to school simply because the campus looked so appealing. I bought an Orange SIM card, people-watched along Queen Street and met Steve on his lunch break. He took me to the visitor center for a map, showed me where the train station was and walked with me near Cardiff Castle before heading back to work.
Left on my own, I made the shocking decision to tour another castle. Cardiff Castle is right in the middle of the city, and I wandered through the grounds, explored the interiors and climbed the steps to the section perched on the hill, where there were lovely views across Cardiff. Eventually I decided it was time to walk back to Steve's house. Getting into town had been easy, so obviously getting home would be easy too. It was not. This was 2009, when having a phone in your pocket did not mean you also had an easily accessible GPS app ready to tell you that you'd made a wrong turn. I did have the map Steve had helped me pick up, but there was one small problem: it really only covered the immediate area around the university. Once I wandered beyond the useful part of the map, I was essentially on my own.
I asked several people for directions and somehow managed to find people who weren't from the area they happened to be standing in either. Eventually I found my way back toward the university and into territory my little map actually recognized, and Steve texted me the turn I'd missed. I was thoroughly frustrated by then. I had also decided that navigating in Britain apparently required some degree of psychic ability, because street signs seemed to be attached to buildings rather than conveniently placed at every intersection, assuming there was a sign at all. When I finally made it back to Steve's, I learned something else about Britain: the tendency to respond to a frustrating situation by putting the kettle on really does work. A cup of tea was produced, I sat down, and somehow the whole ordeal immediately seemed less irritating. There may actually be something to this British tea thing.
The upside of getting lost was that I had spent considerably more time simply walking around Cardiff and listening to it. Welsh, English and Scottish accents mixed with voices from all sorts of other places as people passed me on the street. Obviously nobody around me thought they had an accent, but I did, and I've always loved accents. Yes, it sounds touristy, but I didn't care. I may not have known exactly where I was, but I was enjoying listening to everyone while I tried to figure it out. Today I would probably pull out my phone, follow the little blue dot and be back at the house without much trouble. In 2009, a map that stopped being useful several streets too soon, directions from strangers and a text from Steve were what I had—and the resulting story has stuck with me far longer than an efficient walk home probably would have.
I spent another day at the National Museum Cardiff, wandered the market and picked up ingredients for dinner. That evening Steve and I were headed to the Wales Millennium Centre to see La Traviata performed by the Welsh National Opera. Opera has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. My mother loved music and had a voice that allowed her to sing the opera pieces she loved—not as a star or a full-time professional, but because she could and because the music meant something to her. Verdi and Puccini were among her favorite composers, so I grew up listening to their music. Going to the opera has always had that connection for me, and seeing Verdi's La Traviata in Wales felt like a particularly lovely way to spend an evening.
The Wales Millennium Centre itself was absolutely beautiful. The exterior was a striking combination of slate, metal and glass, with enormous lettering stretching across the front of the building, while inside the theater curved hardwood along the boxes and slate walls gave it a warm, dramatic feel. The Welsh National Opera's production was beautifully staged, both musically and visually, and I thoroughly enjoyed the performance.
The next morning I was catching the train for a solo day in Bath.
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Bath: Roman Baths, Fashion and a Cheese Sandwich
Between Cardiff and Scotland sat Bath, and I wasn’t going to pass through without stopping. One train ride gave me a day of Roman history, Georgian streets, Jane Austen and the particular pleasure of exploring entirely at my own pace.
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Wales: Castles, Rugby and Finding My Feet in Cardiff
My introduction to Wales included castles, rugby, a full English breakfast and the Welsh National Opera. When my friend returned to work, I also got my first taste of exploring Cardiff completely on my own.
