who(m) do you suppose?

The Silent -- Dr. Who

Cyberman -- Dr. Who
Photos BBC Wallpaper

This past Sunday the sun was shining and warm, the skies blue and I had the day off, so I headed down to Cardiff Bay to enjoy the day.

Late in the afternoon I saw a very small sign that looked as if it were about an open house at the newly built BBC Studios on Roath Lock. All it said was 'open'. The Studios were about a 15 minute walk away and upon arriving I found out there was an openhouse involving a two-hour tour with no charge for admission. However, apparently entrance was allowed only by pre-arranged admission tickets.

The security guard said to walk down to the gate and see if anyone had cancelled, as a tour was about to leave. There were five other people waiting there as well. A woman came, took the family of four and told another woman and me that we could come back for the last tour at 5:30 if we wanted. Why not? What an opportunity!

So, on a day I had purposely left my camera at home in order to travel light, I ended up inside the BBC Roath Lock studios surrounded by lifesize, breathing Dr. Who monsters and aliens.

Amazing, wonderful evening!

holidays in sight

Countdown! One week from now I will be on a week's holiday! It will be my first substantial time off since I visited North America in October and I am ready, ready, ready. St. Malo, France -- here I come.

Also, the weather here in the U.K. has been becoming almost balmy and springlike. The daffodils, the national flower of Wales, are beginning to appear. They are planted everywhere in large expansives and last more than a month and are the most glorious flower, shining their cheerful yellow through grey, rainy days.

I always think of that field of daffodils in the film Dr. Zhivago whenever I see a daffodil http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bl_YDWWypxY

And with the nicer weather, longer days, and a little travelling this blog should see some photos enlivening its rather pedestrian facade.

on the workfront

Over the last two weeks I have been having training as a house porter. It is not the same as being a porter and carrying guests' luggage. We don't have porters at our hotel (guests have to lug and wheel their belongings). A house porter is basically backup and support and part of the housekeeping department.

I'm glad I will only be doing this position a few days a week. As room attendants we probably only see 20 per cent of the job done by the porters. Sometimes the job is relatively easy, but often it is as difficult as cleaning rooms with similar ridiculously short time expectations.

It is a higher profile job with a lot of movement throughout the hotel, so I get a real sense of the whole picture and am in contact with more workers in other departments. This is the part I enjoy the best. Also, for the first time since I've been here, I get paid eight hours for eight hours work! Actually, this is the part I enjoy the best! To get paid for eight hours as a room attendant I would have to clean sixteen rooms a day, half an hour for each room, time not included for stacking trolleys, waiting for elevators, department meetings. Some people are able to clean sixteen rooms regularly, but most of us do twelve to fourteen rooms a day.

What I don't enjoy: having a phone attached to me and having to drop what I'm doing to do something else and hourly checks on the public toilets. Uggh.

Very often the house porters are male, though only some of the work requires heavier lifting than that done by room attendants. This is a step to broaden my horizons, so it is a very well-timed gift from my supervisors, though I have been stressed out about the training over the last week or so. Some days I work a full porter shift of eight hours from 10:30 a.m. to 7 p.m. I have to find a way to eat properly on this shift. I still expend a lot of energy on the job and meals in the canteen are quite later in the day. Other days I work as a porter for a couple of hours and do eight rooms to equal my usual six hour shift. Other days I do rooms only.

seesaw

2012 has been a seesaw of events and emotions so far. Up, down, up, down, up ....

I officially became 'under contract' in the housekeeping department of the international hotel chain in which I have worked for more than a year and a quarter as of Jan. 1st. Three times before this date I had been told the contract would begin on the 1st, yet after working the holiday New Year's Day, I was informed that in actuality my contract hadn't been signed yet by management and I wouldn't be getting paid double holiday pay. DOWN ...

'Casual' employees don't get paid extra here in the U.K. for holidays, and it is one of the chief advantages of going on contract. Being under contract has its drawbacks as I lose about one-twelfth of my hourly wage -- about 70 pence an hour: the extra 70 cents as a casual is actually holiday pay. On my tight budget this eliminates my actual spending money for the most part, though in the long run it balances out with some benefits. In the past, if I took any holidays I wasn't paid at all for the time off. Basically now the holiday pay is spread out so when I take time off I still get a paycheque. This will make things easier in the long run. Also, the longer I'm here the fewer bigger purchases I need for my flat and the better I am at knowing where to buy things, so my spending is not as high.

However, when I received my paycheque in January, it turns out that the finance department apparently saw the contract differently than my manager and they began my contract at the first of the year; so, I am entitled to the extra pay and extra day. UP ...

I had been making plans to go to N. America for two weeks in early July to attend the fireworks at my brother Kelly's house and see a lot of people I haven't seen in at least two years. Then, unexpectedly we were told at the hotel that they didn't want anyone to take holidays in July or August because of Olympic 2012 commitments. So, here was another swing down on the seesaw. DOWN ... Fortunately, again, when I went in to discuss it with my department I found the holiday ban began in the middle of July and my plans were approved. UP ...

More good news as my brother Kelly and his wife informed me that they will likely come to visit me and see some of Wales when Kelly goes to Germany in May on a business trip! This is wonderful, wonderful news. HOLDING UP, UP, UP ...

As a contract employee I am tied to more regulations on when I can take my holidays and we are required to take one of our weeks before the end of April. This is not, weatherwise, the best time of year, nor is it the best time financially, as the big heating bill is due in mid-March. Europe and the U.K. have been in the midst of an unusual deep freeze for several weeks which has me and many people concerned about the heating bills, as gas went up 18% in the past year. DOWN ... As well as bankers being under attack for bonuses, the Big Six energy companies in the U.K. are beginning to feel a little heat from an organized campaign with some big backers such as The Independent.

I originally thought I would be eligible for two to three weeks holidays. As it turns out I have four weeks holidays and nine bank holidays! This is good news as my primary reason for being here is to see some of Europe and more of Wales. After my two weeks in Canada and the U.S. in July and a week in March, I will still have a week and more in which to hopefully take short trips. UP ...

I am concerned about the financial implications of a week off in March but have some UK funds yet as a buffer. So, for the price of £79 I am taking a mini-cruise on the weekend of March 2 to France! It will be my first landing in Europe, not counting landing at Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport. It is actually costing me £109 as I have to pay a single premium and the cost does not include food on the cruise, so I will still have to watch my spending. However, it does include a coach ride to Portsmouth (haven't been) to catch a large, grand-looking ferry for a night's cruise to St. Malo, France, a day in St. Malo, a night's return cruise to Portsmouth and several hours in Bath (haven't been) before arriving back in Cardiff. UP, UP, UP ...

Last November on Fright Night I won a night's B&B at a sister hotel. Originally the voucher was for a very grand country hotel, which unfortunately is in the middle of nowhere and rather difficult for me to get to, as well as there being nothing for me to do once I got there. I was fortunate in that Human Resources was able to switch the voucher so I could use it in Swansea, one of my favourite places for a day getaway. The voucher is only good until May and I had been hoping to use it closer to my birthday in late April, but I was informed there are many restrictions as to when it can be used and I should use it before the end of March.  DOWN ... Again, thwarted -- though only temporarily. As I was taking the first week off in March anyway, and only using three days of it to be away, I was able to get the OK to use my voucher on the Monday night of March 5th (when the hotel has openings and I won't be taking away a room from a paying guest). UP ...

Up, up, as things taking shape. Then, online to doublecheck rail times for Swansea to find out that rail prices have DOUBLED -- not only since last year, but since mid-January when I was online checking. DOWN WITH A THUD ... I had read of hikes of up to 10 per cent, but not double. Even now online I cannot find anything discussing this disproportionate hike, except something to the extent that the rail companies were only tied to an average -- hence higher hikes spread kamikaze-like throughout the network. So now, my favourite daytrip, which used to only cost a little more than an hour's wage for a return ticket, now is going to cost more than two hours' wages. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

I'm not certain of the premise for this posting. In many ways my job is getting easier and my position feels stronger. Today I have been offered a slight change in job, working one day a week or so as a house porter, which promises a solid 8 hour day and an easier workload. UP .... I am feeling solid muscle where I may never have felt muscle before in my life. I feel options opening up and they are. Opportunities have also been meeting obstacles, primarily financial ones, but not only financial ones. Flexibility is key. As is getting off the damn teeter totter. As is switching to the swing and letting any downward momentum push me into the skies.

rover way

Sun setting on what I believe to be part of huge Sims Metal Management scrap yard

Last weekend I went for a long, exploratory walk to the River Rhymney on Cardiff's east end, as according to a city map, it looked as if I might be able to access the sea from there.

A mile or so from the city centre, Newport Road heading east loses any sense of Welshness and/or Britishness and becomes a dense, noisy motorway that, with its McDonalds, KFCs, Burger Kings, TGIFs and strip malls could be interchanged with any suburban sprawl in North America.

I had walked this route once before in search of the sea and hit what appeared to be ring roads and industrial zones off limits to pedestrians. This time I was going further to the Rhymney and a mapped out conservation area.

When I came upon the Rhymney, I followed park paths to a marshland which was much smaller than it appeared on the map, with the sea no where in sight. But there were fishermen there on this grey day. These fishermen were nothing like those you see along streams or riverbanks in North America, clad in casual shorts and summer gear or waders. These fishermen appeared to be 'hunting' fish with their camouflaged tents and clothing and expensive lines attached to small, fixed foundations every twenty feet or so.

Perhaps it is a lack of a real wilderness that makes the British take their forays into nature so seriously. But they do. I have watched TV programs where the host has intrepidly watched a squirrel from a blind in the woods or crawled along a manicured village riverbank to view an otter. It is comical, bewildering and endearing at the same time.

I followed a path that looked to take me back west, but hopefully stayed away from the thoroughfares. The path, along the twisting, bleakly muddy and apocalypticly barren Rhymney, ended up beside the industrial ring road I had previously been blocked from, hidden behind a small greenway. But I could see this was taking me to the sea and the grassy walkway, on a crest above the motorway, gave me great views.

This area of Cardiff, primarily home to empty and grimy industrial lands, made me think that this is probably what much of Cardiff Bay used to be like when industry reined. I find such industrial space, like that in west Windsor, my hometown, or like the Cherry Street area in the Toronto Portlands, intriguing. There is something primeval about the grimness and oiliness and nature's determination to spring up wild wherever it can.

As the path neared the sea and curved back towards the city, I was stunned to see a horse before me. As far as I knew I was in the middle of nowhere with dusk coming on and commuters whizzing by in their cars below the ridge. But I have seen horses within the city limits before and even an hour earlier in someone's backyard near the marshland. This horse, though he did not look well kept and was tethered to an old tire on the ground, seemed to have more than enough grass to eat and plenty of fresh air. I was perplexed though as to why he was there.


Pony in front of the Severn Sea at low tide -- along Rover Way

Continuing towards the city, past the pony, I could see the small figures of an adult and child coming towards me, probably at least 100 yards away (one football field -- about the only land measurement I seem capable of imagining). I was glad to see someone else on the path. As we approached each other I could see the woman was purposeful and hurried, not on a recreational jaunt, and I could only think that perhaps she was the owner of the horse. The woman, in her twenties with lovely red hair, hurried past me singing loudly with no acknowledgement of my presence at all, and no seeming interaction with the child whose hand she held tightly. It was disconcerting, as if perhaps she was a little insane.

Behind her and the child, who was unafraid and happy being pulled along the path, was a cluster of what appeared to be homes. I really couldn't believe anyone would be living here in the middle of nowhere, on a strip of land between the sea and a motorway. As I approached the compound, bordered with trash and wandering geese, the only thing I could think of was that perhaps Travellers or Gypsies lived here. Since then, after some research on the Internet, I realized that this is indeed a Travellers settlement -- an official area backed by the city of Cardiff, though there is talk of closing it down and relocating it. Since arriving in the U.K. I have learned that Gypsies -- or Roma -- are not only the dark-haired peoples of Spanish or Romanian descent with which I associate the name. Many of the Travellers in the U.K. are of primarily Irish descent and their lifestyle is something totally new to me.

It was also at the settlement that the path disappeared and came down to meet the motorway. Upon a little searching though I found it carried on across the road and I continued homeward past the expansive, metal scrapyards.

The road which the path bordered is called Rover Way -- a grand name that to me evoked pirates and perhaps, gypsies or travellers and the lure of the sea. In actuality, the motorway appears to be named after a Rover automobile plant which was in the area decades ago. However, it is a rover's way.

Gate along Sims (?) scrapyard

patagonia

For some reason I have watched programs on the Welsh TV channel for four days in a row, despite the fact that all the programs I watched were in Welsh. Well, I know the reason -- the programs during the last week were of particular interest, despite only two of them being subtitled in English. It fills that inexplicable need in me to know about this country and its people and to hear the language in full force.

Often S4C will show the same programs, sometimes subtitled, and other times only in the native Welsh. The first program was a documentary about the Swiss village in which famous Welsh son Richard Burton lived for more than thirty years. It fortunately was subtitled and hinted at a dark tragedy that was dramatized in another film made on the relationship between Burton and his eldest brother, a TV film I haven't yet seen.

The second night I was flipping through channels and saw that the actor Rhys Ifans was the subject of a 'documentary'. Ifans has long been one of my favourite actors, and I'm sure that like Welshman Michael Sheen, he was a favourite before I even knew he was from Wales. Strange that is. Unfortunately this program was not subtitled but I watched it anyway just to get my Ifans fix and see him as himself, which I had never had the opportunity to do before. I believe Welsh-as-a-first-language speakers find deep delight and solace in being able to converse in their native tongue, despite their exquisite professional use of the English language. Ifans was interviewed on set of the latest Spiderman film as well, apparently, on some land he seems to own in Michigan (!) -- which I gathered only because the word 'Michigan' is the same in English and Welsh.

The third night I watched the Welsh-produced film Patagonia, released last year and a UK entry for an Oscar as best-foreign film. This showing, unlike one a few days before, had subtitles in English and Welsh (for the sections of the film in Spanish). The film takes place in Patagonia, Argentina and in Wales and was quite good. The acting, cinematography, music and editing were top-notch. The acting in particular was uniformly strong, with a young Argentine, Nahuel Perez Biscayart, being particularly riveting.

And last night a variety program highlighted performances by Welsh pop artists -- of course, with no subtitles. A pudgy, pudding of a man, appearing to be in his late 60s, began to sing in a fascinating voice that sounded thirty years younger and upon reflection reminded me of a catchy, bluesy Bob Dylan. I learned today, upon looking up Meic Stevens online that he has been considered a Welsh Dylan over a long career. In his younger photos he has the look of a John Lennon. Amazing how age changes appearances, but his voice is vibrant and infectious. Apparently, he has held court with the best and was drinking with Jimi Hendrix the last night of his life. The world is full of so much talent. Mr. Stevens has found a long-lost youthful love who was sent to Canada years ago and apparently now resides in Vancouver.

Post note: S4C presented the Rhys Ifans interviews with English subtitles since the original post. Ifans does not own land in Michigan. He was in Ann Arbor filming a Judd Apatow film and following that he was interviewed at a lakefront home in Michigan rented by the Welsh media crew.

Happy New Year from Wales -- Blwyddyn Newydd Dda!!

I am glad to say that I have recovered my emotional equilibrium after a trying Christmas and post-Christmas week. I imagine that much of the problem, besides being away from family, is due to the fact that this was the first Christmas that I have worked. Last season, my first in the hospitality industry, I didn't work the holidays because we were overstaffed. Now I am a 'seasoned' veteran.

And including today, I now have four days off! Sweet bliss. If it was warmer and the weather better I would go for a day trip to Swansea or somewhere, but the U.K. has been experiencing gale-force winds and flooding throughout much of the country in the past few days, so I will stay put, relax, and shore up the home front.

2011 was a good year for me, though trying as I settled into my first year in Wales. I face 2012 feeling much more grounded and ready to make travel plans for jaunts to Europe and Wales and a home visit to Canada/U.S. I am now under contract at the hotel, rather than 'casual', and this will help in organizing time away.

I don't believe I am alone in being a little fearful as well at what 2012 will bring us. The state of the economy on both sides of the Atlantic is precarious and in dire need of fixing, yet no one really seems to know what to do about it. What is really needed is a drastic overhaul and a readjustment of the imbalances of capitalism -- but how to accomplish that without a complete collapse of the world as we know it?

This year the U.K. is putting on at least two showcases -- the Queen's Diamond Jubilee in early June celebrating the 60th year Elizabeth II has served on the throne, including a countrywide tour by Her Majesty as well as a flotilla on the Thames -- and, of course, the 2012 Olympics. Huge, symbolic events such as these are always something to look forward to, but also always make me uneasy as Britain in particular has known terrorism on the homefront. Most of the Olympic events are in London but Cardiff is hosting some of the Olympic football (soccer) games. Only this week our hotel is host to security forces preparing for the Games in Cardiff.

I brought the New Year in at home as the weather was a little blustery and I was working on New Year's Day. Last year I attended the outdoor festivities at City Hall with a fine crowd of happy, celebratory folk. This year I watched the amazing crowds and fireworks in London on the BBC. I couldn't believe my eyes when fireworks came out of Big Ben! I have seen fantastic firework displays on the Detroit River over the years but this London celebration was the most fantastic I have ever witnessed, live or on TV. Outside my groundfloor flat my street erupted into cheers and celebration as a family party poured out of their home and ran up and down the roads, lighting fireworks and sending them with repeated bangs into the sky.

At work the next day my co-workers talked of sending and receiving calls of celebration from loved ones across the globe. I had called my brothers and stepmother at the UK midnight, only 7 p.m. their time. A co-worker with family in Thailand said his Thai relatives had brought in the New Year five to six hours before the U.K. A Polish co-worker whose Indian husband is currrently in India received a call from him at 5:30 p.m. and called her Polish relatives at 11 p.m. for their New Year.

Around the world we are all connected.