Day 3: songs in the dungeon

Caerphilly Castle:  Construction began on this castle in 1268.

Outside the moat:

Inside the moat:

These two interesting items were in the gift shop:  Mint Humbugs and Ginger Beer.

Castle Coch (a small daytime getaway for a noble and his family):

My favorite memory of this castle was the dungeon.  Marie and I got lost from the rest of the group and went wandering on our own.  We discovered the windowless dungeon underground - a damp, basement-smelling stone cell.  We started singing Edelweiss in harmony.  The acoustics were beautiful!  We kept singing:  It Is Well With My Soul, As the Deer, Amazing Grace.  Something about singing beautiful songs in a former dungeon made it ironic and special.

Day 2: chocolate and wind

On Sunday we went to church in the nearby town of Brecon.  Our group of fifteen doubled the congregation and reduced the average age by about forty years.  Last Sunday happened to be Mothering Sunday (Great Britain's version of Mother's Day).  To celebrate, the rector handed out chocolates and flower bouquets during the service.  She invited everyone to light a candle in honor of their mothers, so I came to the front and joined my candle on the altar with the others.

Here's the church:

Afterward they fed us Welsh cakes and tea and talked to us about the Welsh language and told us everything they knew about America.  They sent all the leftovers home with us and told us to come again.

We went to the grocery store afterward.  All the signs were printed first in Welsh, with the English below.

That afternoon we trekked up to the nearby high point.  We found sheep on the way.

On the top the wind was blustering about as strong and cold as Nebraska's heartier winds.  We could lean back into it and not fall over.  All around us were hills of fields and hedgerows, with low mountains in the distance on one side.

Day 1 in Wales: fireplaces and sheep

Saturday, March 9 (and the night before):

First, I explored the house, which was no simple task.   The layout of Alexanderstone Manor makes my house seem simplistic.  (And if you've been in my house, you know that's saying something.)

Alexanderstone Manor is a fifteenth-century hamlet.  It has everything that comes with an old house that's been tweaked and twiddled with for the past five hundred years:  Bumpy floorboards, slippery wood stairs, musty drapes, oversized bathrooms, and multiples of everything - staircases, front doors, kitchens and single stairs and steps in odd places.  Antique wardrobes and dressers, elegant dishware, Persian-style rugs, and an ancient-sounding upright piano with a temperamental damper pedal.

Here's one of the living rooms:

The staircase:

The unpredictable piano:

When we arrived late Friday night, we started a real wood fire in the real wood stove right away.  (We spent a lot of time in this room during the next several days - reading, playing cards, roasting marshmallows, singing hymns, storytelling.)

Sonya (my roommate) and I scouted out the bedrooms and picked a small one to share:

On Saturday morning when I woke up I pushed open the drapes and looked out the window - rolling green hills and hedgerows, sheep and horses, and mountains.  I started laughing because the whole thing seemed like a storybook but it was real.  I found Marie and we ran outside and started up one of the narrow roads.  We wound along it for a good two hours.  What we saw reminded me of a book I have at home, an illustrated adaptation of James Herriot's All Creatures Great and Small:  Stone barns and cluttered barnyards, grubby farmers leaning on fences and talking to each other, flocks of sheep baaing to each other.

That evening we all shared salmon alfredo and orange cheesecake and dandelion-and-burdock (a beverage) in the dining room.

We ate by candlelight and laughed and talked around the long table for two hours.  We did this together almost every night.  One night we played sardines (a game like hide-and-seek) through the whole house.  It was harder than it sounds, because everything actually got dark at night since we were out in the real countryside!  I took a couple of night-walks while I was there to see the bright stars and listen to the nighttime quietness and the owls.

When I went to bed I thought about how the whole place, inside and out, reminded of my family, and how they would enjoy it like I did.  It reminded me of home (except older and bigger and grander), which I think is partly why I liked it so much.

Last Week

I spent last week in Brecon, Wales at Alexanderstone Manor:

It might have been the best vacation I've ever had.  I'll write more about it, but here are a few photos to start.

My roommate Sonya and I below our bedroom window (second story), saying goodbye to the manor just before leaving.

And here's the view from that window:

And the view from the top of a nearby hill:

Happy!

St. Nicholas and GPA's

Every Monday night at 7:10 I ride my bike down to Keble College for choir practice.  We sing in this room:

Our concert is this coming Monday, and we're performing the work of St. Nicholas by Benjamin Britten, a twentieth-century British composer.

I never knew that St. Nicholas had such an interesting life:  We sing about swimming in bathtubs, pickled children, jeering sailors, sacks of corn, blinding lightning...

Choir practice is also a good time to meet British folk.  Last Monday during break I was chatting with a girl about the British college system versus the American system.  I learned that they don't really have grades.  I asked, "Do you even know what a GPA is?"  "Well, sort of," she said tentatively, "mostly just from watching films."  (I guess American movies are useful for many reasons.)

Pancake Day

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday.  And the day before was Shrove Tuesday... or, as they call it here, Pancake Day.

I had never heard of Shrove Tuesday or Pancake Day, only Mardi Gras, which I have never understood very well.  But I had no trouble figuring out how to celebrate Pancake Day.  Our church small group had a big pancake dinner.  We were told to Bring Your Own Pancakes, pre-made, which was new to me also, but I managed to transport my stack of pancakes on a bike without damaging them, even though they got cold by the time I arrived.

British pancakes are different.  The first time we made them (from a mix), we were concerned that they kept turning out flat (literally).  Eventually we realized that  British pancakes are supposed to be flat and squishy and dense, more like crepes:

And, like most things, they come in small quantities.  One of the mixes in the store had a serving size of 2.  Only 2 pancakes?  There's a reason we get groceries several times a week.

I decided I like Pancake Day.  Mom and Peter, let's celebrate this next year!

Thing 1 and Thing 2

Roommates!

I have two of them while I'm here:

One goes to school in Georgia, and the other in California.  I'm smack in the middle:  Dordt College, Iowa.  I was pleased that they both knew where Iowa was.

Here's Sonya, from St. Louis:

She almost always has this same sweet smile on her face.  She likes singing, reading Shakespeare out loud dramatically, sturdy walking boots, and scarves.  We met by chance in the noisy Heathrow airport the day we arrived.  She came up and said, "Um, are you by chance going to Oxford?"  "Yes!  You are too?"  "Yes -- I'm Sonya."  "Oo-hhh -- I think you're my roommate!"  She gave me a big hug.

And this is Meredith (Mere), from Oregon, looking deceptively scholarly in this photo:

She likes hedgehog socks, making tea for people, and biking fast down hills.  She is determined to make me cultured (mainly by playing Frank Sinatra music and making me watch Lord of the Rings).  She reminds me of my sister (she calls me names like "Punk," talks to me in odd voices at odd hours, threatens to curl my hair and take other liberties, and makes me proofread her papers).  She is perceptive and endearing and companionable.

...And here's the three of us together, out for Mere's birthday dinner at the Eagle and Child: