Saturday, May 26, 2012

April in Aberdare


Entering Aberdare from the overpass near the train station

I had the day off on my April 28 birthday this year and it coinciding with a break in the rain (April on record as the rainiest U.K. April in 100 years), I jumped on a train for an hour's ride to the town of Aberdare in the Welsh Valleys.

Among Aberdare and area's claims to fame are that it is the birthplace of tour operator and friend Paul Harris; it holds a statue of the famous choral leader Griffith Rhys Jones, also known as Caradog; and the original members of the rock band the Stereophonics hailed from nearby Cwmaman. The town also holds a very fine little museum on the area's industrial heritage.

I was pleasantly surprised by Aberdare. Online the town looks like an unpromising destination, less desirable than Merthyr Tydfil, a scrappy Valley town which bravely keeps standing up against hard economic realities, not unlike the champion boxers which have hailed from there. More so than Merthyr, Aberdare is flourishing, filled with small, busy businesses and cafes and a townsfolk that carry on in that pleasant, joyous manner I find among the Welsh.


Live models 'on display' at a local bridal shop -- different models appeared later in the day

 A part of the town centre

I liked it a great deal and it is worth easy daytrips and a lovely train ride in the future.

I received two birthday phone calls from family while I was in Aberdare: one, from my brother Kevin, his wife Diane and my niece and nephew Sarah and Shawn, came in as I was on the train approaching the station, so it was fun to receive but difficult to hear patches as the train approached the platform. The second came later in the afternoon from my stepmother Flo in Florida as I was walking to the Visitor Centre in Aberdare Country Park, a walk that was unmarked in distance and took much longer than expected. But it was a pretty walk among moss-covered trees through a woods and I sat on an old log while I connected with her across the ocean.

Before the walk through the park I visited the Cynon Valley Museum and Gallery. Despite the often severe hardships endured by the Valleys peoples during the industrial revolution and often afterwards, both this museum and the one I visited in Merthyr, pointed out that subsistence farming, the life most people led before the industries came, was often as cruel and that many flocked toward industry to provide, hopefully but not necessarily, a better standard of life.

As Merthyr had its boxers, Aberdare had its cyclists, in the 1890s. Another intriguing glimpse of life in the Valleys, especially during the 1920s and Depression, was the appearance and flourishment of what were called 'jazz bands'. The photos on display at the museum reveal, mostly men and boys, dressed in outrageous Mardi Gras-style costumes, sometimes in black face even, wielding simple instruments like the kazoo.


At an intersection, 'Teeth' in front of me and to the left, below:

Apparently, a garbage bin under the sign a requisite as much as body parts

'my heart with pleasure fills and dances with the daffodils'


March in Bute Park
I'm a little backlogged with my posts. Here are a few pics from the lovely March we had here in Cardiff, with the bequiling daffodils, the national flower of Wales, covering the parks. The post title comes from the last lines of the poem by William Wordsworth, which you may or not remember from elementary school: I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud.

The yellow-gold of these bright ambassadors of spring surfaces in mid-February and lasts at least a month here. During the days of late winter they are a much-welcome gift of sunshine on the grey landscape. On days when the clouds disappear their beauty is doubled. I spent an idyllic March afternoon reading among the flowers in Bute Park.


Thursday, April 19, 2012

Swansea siesta

On the Monday following my Sunday return from the St. Malo mini-cruise in early March, I boarded a morning train to take me the hour down the track to Abertawe, as the Welsh call it, or Swansea as it is better known.

Last fall at a work-related Hallowe'en party I spent £1 on a chance to win an overnight B&B stay at one of several affiliated hotels in the UK. It ended up being the best buy for £1 I have ever made. I won a stay at a resort in south Wales that was quite far off the beaten path, was able to get it exchanged for a stay in Swansea, and now, as part of my holiday was cashing in on the prize.

The hotel in Swansea is right on the beach and I had an amazing view from my second story window. I was still feeling quite under the weather with the head cold and the long day walking in France. I went for breakfast at the Swansea Market, bought a cup of cockles salty fresh from the sea, and then took my camera on a scale of the heights of Swansea which I had never done before.

Looking over Swansea Bay with the Mumbles on the horizon




Circular building, on one of highest points in Swansea, is an elementary school
Swansea's Liberty Stadium at bottom of the hill

Returning from my Swansea wanderings I bunked down in the newly refurbished hotel room, jumped for joy on the mattress and luxuriated in fresh sheets. I was afraid that working in the hotel industry would destroy the sense of joy associated with travelling, but I think the fact that everything was FREE just tossed any such professional lingerings aside.

I ventured down to the leisure club, enjoyed a pummelling in the jacuzzi and a brief swim in the pool and then returned to my room, climbing under the sheets for a night of watching the telly.

Facing Swansea from the beach, with Swansea Prison the large structure to the left



The next morning the amazingly good weather we were having continued and after eating a little of everything at the fine FREE breakfast spread, I checked out of the hotel, walked a few minutes away onto the seawalk and plopped myself down a bench for the rest of the day, read my book, let the sun seep into my tired body and watched people playing by the sea.


A man digging for 'rags', seaworms used as bait
Pick-up football on a Tuesday lunch hour
Cart trying to catch the wind

Friday, April 6, 2012

walk through st. servan and st. malo

I saw rowers all day on the still sea at the mouth of the River Rance

One of the German bunkers used during occupation in World War II
Damage close-up
French coast where River Rance meets the bottom of the English Channel
St. Servan

Le Tour Solidor




The mysterious woman of the tower --
I have named her La Belle Serveuse de St. Servan





Year 1646 -- over the residential door



The sign said Bibliotheque (library) though I have seen it called the City Hall elsewhere



Bay at St. Servan -- early morning low tide



Cross is replica of that raised by St. Malo-born Jacques Cartier
on landing in Canada in 1534

 
A shock -- 'stop signs'
in English
-- apparently a EU standard
 
My first 'squat' toilet




Inside the Walled City of St. Malo

The beach at St. Malo


Le Fort National



Along the outer wall of the Walled City which was destroyed by Allied Forces
in World War II and rebuilt


A French cat


Tidal swimming pool