Capt. Fluellen's & Alec Baldwin's in Caerdydd ...

I do not know much about Wales. Furthermore, I submit that my entire notion of Welsh people is based on Shakespeare’s hilarious portrayal of the Welsh Captain Fluellen in Henry V. Despite being politically incorrect, perhaps bigoted by today’s standards, after my experience in Wales, I think Shakespeare may have a point.

Getting to Cardiff. After taking the train from Norwich to Liverpool St., I hop on the tube from Liverpool St. to Paddington, (always takes longer than you would think), and board my train headed west, to Caerdydd, the capital of Wales, also known as Cardiff. I had been to Swansea once when I was much younger, but I had never been to Cardiff before, so on my arrival at Cardiff Central, I resolved to take in this city in this forgotten nation in best way possible. Pub-sesh.

Accompanied by four fellow Dickinson program classmates, our small group of young American humanities majors stopped in at a pub called The Cottage for a pint. There we discussed cliche but important college matters like the Oscars, Arrested Development and who was the best SNL host of all time. Steve Martin easily received my vote, but Alec Baldwin was also brought up for contention. Upon mentioning this last subject, a woman who can be described as nothing other than a Really Drunk Welsh Lady interjected with the following discerning, insightful observation: “Alec Baldwin?!”

Really Drunk Welsh Lady's following remarks offered no more information on Alec Baldwin nor SNL hosts and were barely intelligible (alcohol and Welsh accents do not mix well), but we deciphered a couple things: She thinks that we are all English. She thinks Mikey is speaking in a fake accent. She has daughters a couple years younger than us. And lastly, she thinks that she is at a pub called, The Winchester.

Being upstanding, scholarly citizens of the future, we kindly corrected her on this last detail, and after straightening out the tiny misunderstanding, Really Drunk Welsh Lady's insightful Alec Baldwin forum drew to a sharp end as she realized she was in the wrong pub. Really Drunk Welsh Lady graciously excused herself from our company, and gracefully exited the pub.

Upon her departure, the topic of “Welsh people are weird” dominated the latter part of discussion.

Saturday morning brought on the Welsh National Museum and the Cardiff Castle. The Welsh National Museum was above expectations, containing an interesting collection of geological information as well as a studious collection of modern, surreal and impressionist art. The Cardiff Castle was also enjoyable, as its well preserved keep and towers made for an intriguing look into Cardiff's past. Meaning, the castle was dull, but a bit better than all the other shit we saw.

Nightfall brought on drinks at the hostel and the best perri perri chicken I have tasted. Maybe it was just because I was drunk, maybe it was just because it was dirt cheap, but damn! As a group, we failed to finish all of the chicken and, before heading out to the bars, we gave the leftovers to a homeless couple ... It seems as if we had a private objective of being collegiate stereotypes.

Running directly through central Cardiff, Saint Mary St. became a very convenient hotspot for the night’s subsequent mischief. The street was blocked off from traffic and was filled with local Caerdyddians shuffling from bar to bar up and down the street. Our Dickinsonian group hit up about 7 or 8 different pubs, bars and clubs, thus becoming adequately inebriated and jovial. Did I mention we were a group of college students? The trip to Cardiff, but this night in particular seemed to encapsulate what it means to study abroad: get fucked up in new places, pretend you're learning.

Sunday morning I was buzzing with excitement as well as a hangover. Liverpool v. Man United. I will not go into detail, as I have already written about this legendary result, but Liverpool were the victors. After the game, I walked down to the bay, sporting my bright red Liverpool hat and feeling like a fucking stud. At the bay, I got out my journal and jotted down a couple pages. I wrote down some form of brilliance or another about Wales and England, but I don’t know exactly what, I haven’t read it.

As I took the train out of Cardiff Central back to Paddington that afternoon, I was still missing my penetrating cultural conclusion on Wales and what its people were like. While in Cardiff, I saw all the popular sights, tried the nation’s famous Welsh-cakes and Cardiff’s famous Brain’s Brewery beer (I had the Stout, the Bitter, Cold & Smooth you name it), but, aside from the street signs (in unpronounceable Welsh) Cardiff did not seem too different from England. I suppose really the only out of order thing that occurred on the trip was the Really Drunk Welsh Lady in The Cottage, but aside from that, not much else was of notice. Wales did not seem to be a nation made up of Captain Fluellen's, but perhaps it is just the odd bunch of Welsh ruffians Welshmen that set an example and national stereotype. Perhaps I would have noticed the actual Welsh people instead of the Captain Fluellen's if I wasn't too busy being a stereotypical American college student. But, perhaps like the English, I formed an opinion of the Welsh based on the street signs, that there is just a surface difference between Wales and England, and I was to lazy to figure it out, too busy talking about the Alec Baldiwn's of American pop-culture and behaviour, and thus I am left with an opinion of "basic difference" of "non-Englishness." Maybe all of this is just a trivial game played in the UK, but I just hope that Wales knows that not all American college students studying abroad are Alec Baldwin's ... LW