The England Vacation Day 3: Cardiff, Wales

I really didn't feel like posting tonight, but I'm gonna stay on schedule if it kills me, dammit. Feel lucky or something.

Don't ever call ask someone who's Welsh if they're English. They really hate that. There's some sort of identity thing going on there, and it's kind of like asking some redneck southerner if they're from New York City. They'll get offended, even if they do live in the same country (the United Kingdom, to be correct -- yes, I know I should change the title of this post, but I'm not gonna.)

Anyway, we left our lovely little hotel with attached pub in the middle of nowhere and hit the road to Cardiff. On the way there, I may as well mention the Welsh language, which seems to me to be completely incomprehensible. This is a language that definitely needs to buy a vowel. Take a look:



Seriously, what the hell is that? I've heard they're actually considering moving over to entirely Welsh road signs and markings, instead of the dual-language stuff they've got going on right now. It's one thing to have the whole national identity thing, it's another entirely to force money-spending people like me never to come back because it looks like everyone threw random letters all over the place.



Before we went to Cardiff, we stopped by our friends' houses. This was the scene of one of my "random falling asleep two hours after I got up" jet lag episodes. The Welsh must think I'm like the rudest, laziest American ever. Oh well. Anyway, we went to an outdoor museum that depicted life in Wales in the late 19th Century and early 20th Century. It was a nice day and it was free, so that was cool. There were also lots of sheep, as seen above. Fun!

From here we journeyed to Cardiff, home of a soccer (er, football) match between two visiting teams, which made traffic just that much more fun. I sure know how to pick those days, I tell ya. Anyway, our first stop was Cardiff Castle:



This is the interior keep, which afforded a pretty neat view of Cardiff from the top. I wish they had a more original name for the castle, but they don't. Of course, it's pretty much smack dab in the middle of the city, so they may as well keep the name. It does have a Welsh name too, but I forget because it was something like "Chrgftkljmnrwspordghtcxrl." Don't quote me on that, though. I may have missed a "d" somewhere in there.

Again, this is another place built on top of Roman ruins. The Romans built the exterior wall and a large part of the interior. The Welsh cherry-picked the rest of it and made a castle of it. I wish my house was built on top of Roman ruins. I never have that kind of luck, though. Mine's probably built on Indian burial ground ruins. Lucky me.

After we left the castle to head to a pub for some food and drink, the soccer (er, football) match ended and fans piled onto the streets. Wrexham had defeated South End 2-0. I attempted to start a soccer riot by walking along the South End fans and shouting stuff like, "Wrexham is wretarded!" but it just didn't work. They all thought I was retarded for even trying that one. There would be no hooliganism that afternoon, sadly. I guess you have to go to Italy where they shoot flares and firebomb the opposing team's players to get the really fun behavior. My kind of fans over there!

It turns out we were only 190 miles from the city with the longest name. Here it is, in all it's glory (click to get a better view):



Something tells me the city was never gonna live up to the name. You never know, it could be party central.

After some food and beverage at another Welsh pub, we took a bus back to London, which yielded exactly zero pictures, but did allow me to listen to my bitchin' playlist. Even if I had no pictures to show for a 3-hour bus ride, at least I was back in the big city, ready to ride the tube and spend lots of money for basic human necessities, such as food and Guinness. I was also introduced to my sister's tiny little flat, which I will discuss tomorrow.

Coming tomorrow:
A Sunny Monday in London (believe it!)