Streaking and war dances? Just another rugby match in Wales

Having never seen a rugby game, except for a TV match (where the entertainment was much more in the direction of watching the Irish fans holler indistinguishable curse words and slosh their Guinness) PAB and I decided to take the plunge and book a seat at a match at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff. We found reasonable tickets for Wales v. Samoa, an interesting game as Wales is damn good, and Samoa is, well...damn BIG.

We took the train in from Bristol (it's impossible to park in Cardiff on rugby night as all the streets are closed off for pre/post-game mayhem), apparently some fans consider the train an opportunity for tailgating (even one fan proudly holding his Carlsberg in one hand and his two year old son in the other). Cardiff was absolutely mad, people had horns and were waving Welsh flags in the street (particularly menacing with their giant dragon) The girls were wearing inflatable daffodils around their head. And the men were menacing what looked like a palm tree (though PAB kindly informed me they were actually waving LEEKS, the national veggie of Wales!!) Check out the picture at top! For awhile I was laughing at myself, thinking oh how ridiculous these Welsh people are. Then I thought about what the Welsh would think if they went to a Greenbay game only to find people walking around with giant blocks of CHEESE on their heads. That shut up my laughter quick ;)

Before the match started, the Samoans did a traditional dance of intimidation - the Haka. Which looks a bit like this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQ-NyW4PTtw

The dance may look a bit silly, but surely more the stuff of men than daffodils and leeks...

The game was GREAT, though it will never replace American football for me. I don't quite understand everything that's going on, but I do quite like when they stomp on each other's heads like the Italians stomp grapes for wine. And, just to make up for the fact that there wasn't a halftime show, a STREAKER ran out into the middle of the field. I don't know what it is with the British and taking their clothes off at sports games, but the refs were prepared. Perhaps they're all ex-rugby players (or just wish they were...) but before the streaker even got to the 10 yard line - WHAM! Tackled from the side by a ref. Serious stuff this rugby!

Next up is soccer (aka football) although I don't know how soccer can live up to war dancing and streaking...

All the world's a stage (especially in England)

A little update on life in England. It is becoming more difficult to find occasions to update my blog, the British lifestyle is becoming more and more "normal". Which I suppose is a good sign (though my family may disagree). I am settling in to "real life" in Bristol, the 9-5 work week and free weekends without forced reading.

One thing, however, that does remind me that I'm in England is good ol' Willy Shakespeare.

PAB and I have a "give and take" system which works quite well with our respective interests - I accompany him to such grand amusements as the A380 landing in Filton, and the Royal International Air Tattoo, and he is dragged along to see the Bard in every way his work can be seen. Last year we saw Twelfth Night performed as a German cabaret in a pub called the Bierkeller (that normally specialises in Heavy Rock as opposed to verse). What's amazing is the quality of Shakespearean actors in the UK; even those who perform in pubs would knock the pants off American actors.

PAB and I also had the good fortune (or at least I did, lol) to visit Shakespeare's birthplace with two friends (both aeronautic engineers, not sure how they got suckered in...) Stratford-Upon-Avon is a darling town (pictures above!), even the McDonalds is in a building predating the 18th century :) We saw "As You Like It" by the Royal Shakespeare Company. The setting and props were extravagant (they even skinned a real rabbit onstage, still unsure of how that pertains to the play, but certainly got the attention of the few unfortunate children in the audience) and the acting the best I have seen. Shakespeare is not something I enjoy reading, but to hear it is another story. I have tried writing sonnets in iambic pentameter and have struggled to get through that, I can hardly imagine setting out an entire play in the bloody thing (see "bloody", told you I was becoming English!)

Yesterday for Halloween we joined the 50+ set in attending "A Winter's Tale" at Berkeley castle. The play was in the great hall, lit by fireworks and chandeliers, portraits of the Berkeley family looming down on you with their large collars (similar to the cones dogs wear) and double chins. It was really quite a surreal experience, especially since the seats were practically in the middle of the stage, so close that the actors had to step around PAB and my rather long legs. Halloween was a perfect setting as well, the castle comes with it's own spooky legend of the assassination of Edward the II in the dungeons.

It is really quite incredible to think that Berkeley castle is still inhabited (by, you guessed it, the Berkeley family). The idea of modern day aristocrats living off their inheritance, and now tourism, seems like it belongs more in Jane Austen than in 21st century South Gloucestershire. Even more bizarre is that these Berkeleys, as descendants of "royal" blood, have a seat in the House of Lords, a chamber of Parliament composed entirely of Dukes and Barons who have the final say on laws passed through the House of Commons (yes, like commoners). It baffles the mind that this kind of aristocracy still exists in any form, one would have thought that the Jacobin head cutting across the channel would have scared the English bourgeois enough to hand over their political power and retire quietly to their country estates.

PAB and I do partake of the less refined British amusements (ie pubs) but that's not always something to write home about ;)

Update (since my blog has been poorly up-to-date)

If the date of my last post is any indication, my schedule has been remarkably busy the past two and a half months. My blog inspiration came last summer when I had more than enough time on my hands, alas I no longer have the teacher's summer vacation, and I have fallen behind. So, here's 'The Life of D'Yon" in short:

In June two familiar faces came to Bristol, from Rice and Magnolia. First Julia came, bearing heat stricken goat cheese from her volunteer farm time. With PAB and his friend Cyril, we travelled to Snowdonia to climb the great mountain Snowdon (which is actually more along the lines of a large, craggy hill, but we'll give the Welsh their largest mountain). We stayed in a bunkhouse in Llanberis, sharing bunk beds camper style, sadly no campfires allowed. We did, however, manage to fill the room with the smell of fried fish before leaving. Next came Rikki (sorry, this sounds like a bad playground rhyme) and trips to London to reconnect with other Magnolia friends and Oxford to see what Ivy league looks like overseas (apparently much more impressive and secretive as they won't let you in any of the buildings). Oxford was a bit strange, as you're forced to peer in through metal bars at the colleges, most of which have students resting on the lawns - they should advertise it as the Zoo Academia. Watch intellectuals in their natural habitat. Rikki, PAB and I went to a cricket game, much more rowdy than my previous experience, fans were singing songs which consisted of the words "Somerset la la la" (I'm sure their were lyrics at some point, lost between the third and fourth pint) and yet another naked man. I still haven't figured out the connection between English sports and nudity...

In July was very fortunate to have a Mother who missed me enough to insist that I come home, so spent a week in our new 'home' NYC. Though I spent most of my days researching in the NY Public Library, I was able to go out with my parents at night and lunch with Rice friends. My parents (in what I believe was an attempt to spoil me into submission, e.g. staying in the U.S.) took me to see two incredible shows - Blithe Spirit with Angela Lansbury (Rupert Everett was sadly missing at that night's performance), a typically French dark, tongue in cheek, comedy and Dr. Ralph Stanley and the Clinch Mountain Boys (if you've seen O Brother Where Art Thou, Dr Stanley is the chap singing 'I am the man of constant sorrow). Every New Yorker who originated from below the MasonDixon line was there in force. Quite an entertaining and ironic show to have in Chelsea, where just moments before my parents overheard two fabulous men talking about their not so fabulous lovers. The trip brought home to the fact that I am far, far away from my family, and there are definitely things I am missing out on. Etouffee being the least of it :)

Other than the above spurts of fun, my life has been overtaken by work and study. My dissertation in due in a little over 3 weeks!! Fortunately, I have a wonderful supervisor who has commented on my rough drafts, and steered me in the right direction. My thesis is on literature after 9/11, a depressing topic which has given me nightmares about terrorist attacks on my Dad's office in New York. I will be unbelievably relieved and happy when it is bound and handed in. Good riddance :)

I went with my Director and Event Manager to Dublin to attend a meeting facilitation and event on continuing professional development. Paid travel is certainly one of the perks of working life. Before leaving for NY, I was offered a full-time position at the company I currently work for (Professional Associations Research Network, PARN) as Communications Coordinator, taking on all external communications with Australia, Ireland and Canada as well as an area of member research. I've accepted the job, and will start full-time the day after I hand in my dissertation on 17 August! I'm really excited about the prospect, though it's a small organisation, it's an amazing opportunity to be given full responsibility for communications. I'm not sure comms is the field I will be in long-term, but it's intellectually stimulating and allows me to stay in Bristol with a work visa ;)

Tokyo - just another metropolis?

When arriving at any new destination we take with us 'baggage' (and no, I do not mean the three suitcases of 'necessary' clothing and accessories PAB and I brought on this vacation); a city we have never before seen takes on an air of mystery and grandeur, fuelled by Hollywood, fiction and a general idea of what 'difference' looks like. Asia was (I can no longer say is), for me, the epitome of difference, the high point of travel when the traveller is plunged into something so unexpected and unusual that they lose touch with what had seemed familiar, easy and comfortable. The thing I expected, if anything, was to be shocked, to feel uncomfortable, to see the different variations that life takes in different spaces.

In the end, the only thing that shocked me was just how similar and comfortable Tokyo felt. While there were buildings and museums representing an architectural history much different to the Western world, the looming metal skyscrapers and crowded pavements, the silent subways where people try to discreetly avoid looking at one another, the McDonalds and Starbucks, the high fashion from France and Italy, all made me feel as if I was transported into another New York, London, Paris. The only difference between the lot being the timezone.

That being said, PAB and I were only in Tokyo for five days, five days in which we did very little outside of the usual tourist haunts. People who have lived in Tokyo or spent an extended, untourist, time there probably understand the nuances and cultural habits which make the city unique and would be appalled at my comparing it to Western metropolises.

However, once I got over my initial shock and slight disappointment at not finding unfamiliarity around every corner, I realized that people, whether in the East or West, are at heart the same. People who live in big cities feel annoyed when lost tourists block their entrance to the subway, and people who live in the countryside are usually willing to give you a little more of their time. People everywhere have the same basic drive for comfort, happiness, family, love, success. I set out looking for difference, but what I found instead is that similarity between all human beings that keeps us moving towards the same goals and ideals.

This is just a little musing on my initial thoughts when entering Tokyo; I didn't spend much time moping in the hotel on the lack of exoticism. PAB and I saw and did amazing things, and those stories are a 'coming attraction' which I will save for moments in my two upcoming weeks of essay writing when I will need distraction and an excuse to procrastinate :)

Isle of Wight

It's no wonder that the highlight of a relationship for Bridget Jones is a "mini-break"; England has to be one of the best places for long weekends. It could be a European thing, but England seems to have infinite tiny, picturesque villages that you can get to within a 2 hour drive (that, I'm sure, is a function of its size and the fact that I'm in the South).

PAB and I took our second mini-break, with the same two couples of the Peak District. It is sometimes frustrating travelling with others (they don't get up in time, they don't want to finish the hike, they'd rather eat here than there), but the beauty of mini-breaks is that they are designed so that you do nothing (and it's hard for even the laziest amongst us to mess up nothingness).

We left for the Isle of Wight on the 28 Feb., took the ferry from Southampton, it seemed to take hours to cross what must be a ridiculously short distance compared to France or Ireland. It was a bit off putting to get off the ferry into an equally big city as the mainland, but after a 5 minute drive we were into beautiful, empty countryside. We drove down coastal paths in near total blackness, and it's probably a very good thing that I couldn't see the huge precipices dropping off to my right....

That evening after settling into a cottage at Freshwater we went to watch France v. Wales in the 6 Nations (Italy, Scotland, France, England, Ireland, Wales) rugby tournament. I had never seen a rugby game, live or televised, so that was an experience in itself (needless to say, now I have to see a live game). The people at the pub were unbelievably nice, even though France crushed the team they were supporting they clapped politely at the end. At a U.S. bar there would have been bottles broken and chairs overturned if a group of French men starting singing La Marseilles after beating Americans in any sport.

Saturday, after a late breakfast, we headed to the Isle's most famous viewpoint, the Needles (consisting mostly of three chalk rocks in line) and then a walk along Tennyson Down. I vaguely remember hearing of Tennyson in my British lit. class, obviously not a huge fan, but for those of you who are he is buried at Tennyson Down (go figure) under a Celtic cross (Irish perhaps?) We had amazing weather, and a wonderful picnic, but the most memorable experience was trying to find a place to sit and eat that was rabbit-pellet free. Tennyson Down has the most amazing rabbit population (I would say over-population) I have ever seen; and consequently there was rabbit poo EVERYWHERE, in between small cracks in the fence, on top of rocks, beneath trees. I think the solution to this problem is to import people from the French countryside, soon enough there would be no poop and plenty of delicious 'lapin' for everyone.

We ended Saturday by searching for crabs, something I had surprisingly never done after spending so many childhood summers in Louisiana. I think the difference is, in England you have to be quick and overturn rocks to find tiny little crablings, in La. you simply cast in a net and they come to you. Regardless, it was surprisingly amusing and we spent until sundown chasing after the little buggers.

Sunday we spent the time before our trip at the guide book recommended beaches of Sandown; another example of the most popular beaches being the worst. We did, however, have fantastic luck with the weather, the beach was pretty much deserted in Feb. and I had the best seafood chowder that I've ever had :) Still nothing compared to gumbo, but the closest I've come...

And so ends another month in jolly ol'. PAB and I will be travelling the other channel this weekend to visit his family in France, tales to come...

A Picturesque Visit

It is wonderful to have a visitor and to see everything fresh and new through their eyes. My Paris roommate came for a week's visit and above is a little taste of our adventures! Fossil hunting, "Gothic feudal extravaganzas", thatched roofs (that one's for you Mom), surprising weather and playing in the park - it doesn't get much better! Having Emilee here definitely curred my English blues. Emilee has confirmed that the futon is a very comfortable sleeping arrangement, any other takers? :)

Let it snow!

Officially my first snow day in England! The buses stopped running this morning after a double decker slid on the ice and crashed into someone's front door (how's that for a wake up call?) I am too far away from work to walk, and the British won't let me drive because I'm American (hooray for anti-U.S.!) so no work for moi!

I ran outside as soon as I figured out the buses weren't running, and started running around myself like a snow banchee. I was catching the snow on my tongue and making snow angels in my backyard. I imagine some neighbor watching me from their upstairs window, the woman says, "What is wrong with that girl?" and the man answers, "I think she's from Texas".

Now I need to warm up (I always forgot that snow makes you wet when you roll around in it) with some hot chocolate and Christmas carols (it seems appropriate).

Sending many snow balls and icy kisses your way!