Wales Weekend

Before returning to Cambridge, Mum spent a couple of days in London on the way back from Paris. With plans in place to go to Wales for the weekend, I prepared myself for the journey by going out with housemate Kieran for a big one for his birthday (final bottle of wine after going home from Vaults definitely was not necessary). Nonetheless, by 3:30 on Friday, we were armed with a hire car and ready to go. The trip to Cardiff was pretty slow thanks to M11 and M4 traffic, but we made it safely, having enjoyed a delightful Burger King meal at a wonderfully atmospheric roadside food and entertainment complex (all the soul of an airport departure lounge or train-station, but with cars).
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We sprang up bright and early the next morning and drove into the "city"centre in Cardiff. Strolled about town, taking in the sights and delights,

(Apparently, a goat major is the guy who looks after the regimental goat, specifically so in the case of the Royal Welch Fusiliers who have a caprine tradition dating back to 1775)

Brains is the Welsh national beer, ironically named, in terms of being a beer, I mean, not in terms of being Welsh.

Wandered past Cardiff Castle, and around Bute Park,

then on to the Art Gallery.

Saw an exhibition entitled "Victorian Dreamers", Pre-Raphaelites and what-have-you from various collections in Wales, presumably initially funded from the proceeds of coalmines and steelworks.

Also checked out the nice collection of Impressionist paintings, including some by Sisley who lived in Wales for a while,

and some excellent Monets.

What a strange and wonderful world we live in that we go to Wales to see French pictures of Venice. The endowment of impressionist paintings from the collectors Margaret and Gwendoline Davies means that Cardiff has probably the best impressionist selection in the UK outside of London. Similarly, the endowment by Sir Watkin Williams-Wynn of various Dutch, Italian, renaissance, baroque etc paitings gives Cardiff a gallery worthy of a European capital.
Noted a study for the Wheel of Fortune by Burne-Jones, one of a number by him - one is in the NGV in Melbourne and another is in the Musee d'Orsay.

Drove into the hills north of Cardiff to Castell Coch, a medieaval fantasy built by another "Victorian Dreamer" Lord Bute, who could afford to indulge his knights-and-castles whims because he owned most of the ports at Cardiff through which vast amounts of coal was shipped.

Had an authentic Welsh lunch of lamb cawl and bara brith (welsh fruitcake, literally speckled bread),

then checked out the Castel

The countryside around was beautiful, more like parts of Germany than like what i'm used to in England (in the fens anyway).

Driving further north, we went through the Rhondda Valley and had a good old chortle about Mum's name.

The mines have closed now but the area still celebrates its colliery heritage.

Next stop, the town of Caerphilly famed for its Castle, situated on an island in a lake, looking pretty spectacular in the late afternoon light.

Went down to the regentrified Cardiff Bay area for dinner.

This is a Norwegian church, a throwback to the days when the port attracted workers and sailors from all over the place, and the place where Roald Dahl was baptised. Norway, whilst never having any colonies of its own (unless you count Newfoundland, and for that matter England and Ireland, in the days of the vikings), has always played a big role in nautical activities and contributed more than its share of sailors many of whom came through Cardiff.

Had a look at the new Millenium arts centre which is pretty speccy.

Called it a day, despite some issues getting the car out of the carpark after we'd basically been parked in. Started reading The White Earth by Andrew McGahan which was so compelling that i finished it in one sitting - a fantastic, at times chilling, evocation of the essence of the Australian bush & outback and exploration of connection-with-the-land.
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Mum had heard from a Welsh taxi-driver in Cambridge that the place to go for scenic seaside sightseeing in Wales is Barry. That may be; it was hard to tell how scenic Barry was through the fog and driving rain. In retrospect, it would have been good to go the previous evening when the weather was slightly more conducive to seaside activities.

Had a stroll out to the headland to observe the Turner-esque sky:

searched in vain for a stick of Barry Rock that had i found it would have completed the naff British seaside experience, then got in the car: "Let us never speak of Barry again".

We drove through the Brecon Beacons, which were gorgeous.

Stopped for lunch in the town of Brecon

and had a look at Brecon Cathedral.

Drove through Monmouth and down the Wye Valley

to Tintern Abbey.

Drove back through the Cotswolds, though unfortunately the weather was pretty inclement so could attain very limited appreciation of their oft-vaunted scenery. Stopped off in Oxford for dinner (giant Yorkshire pudding - come to papa) and to enable me to walk around saying how Cambridge is soooooo much nicer. Reserving judgement until i can go back during the day and have a proper look around. Zoomed down the M4, M25 and M11 back to Cam to deliver Mum to her BnB.

Paris

Mum and I got the train to London to board the Eurostar for Paris. On arrival, we got cashed up and sorted with metro passes and Carte Musée et Monuments pour 3 jours consécutifs, then the challenge, to visit as many of the 35 musées et monuments in the tres jours, began.

Having located our hotel near Porte de St Oeun, we caught the train to Champs Elysees,


checked out the Tour de Eiffel,


strolled along the Seine enjoying the beautiful evening

past a few ponts

and the Assemblee Nationale,

to the Musee d'Orsay.

Highlights there were the art nouveau furniture,

and Alexandre Cabanel's Birth of Venus.

Back on the metro, a couple of 1664s and called it a day. With une jour down, for a return of only une musee, there was some serious work to be done in the following days.
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Up at the crack of dawn and to the Montmartre to see the Basilica de Sacre Coeur,

Strolled south, stopping briefly to admire some of Hector Guimard's Metro handiwork, before continuing to the Musee Gustave Moreau,

the former home and studio of the Symbolist painter, which featured a large number of his early studies of famous paintings and later works both complete and incomplete.

Next stop the Ile de la Cite and the St Chapelle, a 13th century gothic cathedral that is spectacular both inside, and out.

Heading east to the Place de Notre Dame,
where we descended into the bowels of the earth to visit the Crypte Archaeologie, which featured a history of the city from Roman and Merovingian times.

Upon returning to the surface we ventured south into the 5th arrondissement, the Latin quarter, ate our baguettes in the sunshine and walked up the hill toward the Pantheon.

Originally built by Soufflot as the Church of St Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris, it's purpose was altered after the French Revolution to become a secular monument to the great men (and women, but mainly men...) of France.

The walls feature a whole lot of murals by Pierre Puvis de Chavannes ands others, depicting the life of St Genevieve and various other tales.

Looked at Foucault's pendulum, checked that it was changing direction and that the earth was still spinning properly,

then went down into the crypt where lots of famous people are buried: Rousseau, Voltaire, Marie Curie, Marat, Langevin, Bougainville et alia.

Walked down Rue Soufflot to Jardin de Luxembourg,

then headed to the Musee de Moyen-Age at Thermes de Cluny, the middle ages museum located in what used to be a Cluniac abbey and the ruins of 3c Gallic-Roman baths.

Highlights were The Lady and the Unicorn tapestry and the original inspiration for Foghorn Leghorn. I say, that's a joke, son.

This used to be the Frigidarium, the cold bath room.

Back to Ile-de-la-Cite to see Notre Dame. After a short but painful (family of Australian bogans directly behind us) wait in the queue, we climbed up and up and up,

to check out the fabulous view and the funky gargoyles.

Had a peep inside the church also, though that's free to get into, so it didn't count as a museum on our card, so i wasn't keen on sticking around for long.

Had a bit of a rest and a quiet drink at a streetside cafe. 12euros80 for one beer and one lemon squash. Heavens above. Thankfully we had some entertainment as the manager shouted at beggars who were accosting the patrons. After paying for the drinks i seriously considered doing some begging myself.

Found ourselves some crepes for dinner and took them to the tuileries,

where we scored some seats by the fountain pond, enabling us to enjoy several idle, idyllic moments,

before sprinting to the Louvre,

the king of the Paris museums, the one that even the idiots go to ("Umm, excuse me, can you tell me which room the curator got murdered in?"),

Fantastic as expected. Mum was kind of relieved that some of the wings were already shut for the evening.

Highlights: Theodore Gericault's Raft of the Medusa

and Veronese's Wedding at Cana (arguably the most, relatively, neglected and overlooked painting in the world, as it sits opposite La Joconde)

Back to hotel to reflect on the day's achievements over several 1664s: 7 musees for our second day, a creditable performance.
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The continuing clear weather afforded nice views from our hotel window,

Not exactly the Champs Elysees but probably a more appropriate reflection of life and environs for most of Paris' 12 million inhabitants.

First stop was the Musee Rodin,

It's great being able to see a bunch of his small works, studies, paintings etc inside the house, then to stroll about the gardens and see the fullsize statues, The Thinker, Balzac, Burghers of Calais, etc.

On to the Hotel l'Invalides,

where we visited the Musee de la Armee, which featured amongst other things a display of uniforms and weaponry from Louis XIII to WWII, and the Musee de Plans-Reliefs, a collection of scale models of different sections of France, initially made for Napoleon's strategic military purposes. This is Mont St Michel:

Visited the Tombeau Napoleon, where Napoleon's body has lain since 1861, having been repatriated from St Helena in 1840.

Our next museum was a little less conventional: the Egouts des Paris, the sewers, apart from being a bit stenchy, was very interesting, both from a technological and a cultural/social history/public health point of view.

Back out in the fresh air, we went over to the Palais Chaillot and had lunch in the Trocadero gardens,

then checked out the Musee de la Marine at Palais Chaillot,

before getting the train out to Versailles,

After wandering throught the main palais, we walked down through the enormous gardens

to Le Grand Trianon,
and Le Petit Trianon.

These are much less ostentatious and accordingly preferable, in my humble (yet correct) aesthetic opinion, to the main palace. Moseyed back along the edge of the gardens as afternoon turned to evening.

Train back to Paris and zipped along to the Musee de Arte Moderne at Centre Pompidou.

Excellent view over the city to Sacre Couer.

We rested our weary legs over a glass of wine and dinner at the nearby Le Chevalier Bleu (geddit - The Blue Rider ie. Der Blaue Reiter - Kandinsky and co - artists, right? Next to the art gallery. mmm) Good steak as well as a clever name.

Traipsed back to hotel, obligatory 1664s, reflections on final musee challenge day: 10 museums/monuments, bringing the total to 18 for the 3 days, a respectable achievement we felt.
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On our final morning, with our musee visiting work completed, we could afford a relaxed breakfast. Strolled through Les Puces de Paris Saint-Ouen, the flea markets (the colour puce is in fact named after fleas, being the colour of them - think about that the next time you're trying to decide between puce and Mountbatten pink).

As Mum noted, they were a far cry from the haute couturiers we'd strolled past near the Eiffel tower on our first afternoon, but interesting nonetheless. Had some croissants, packed our bags and limped onto the Eurostar, after a mighty effort in Paris. Glorious weather, awe-inspiring art, grand history, tasty food, fine company in one of the most exciting cities in Europe - tres magnifique!

No sooner than i'd returned from the US of A, and whilst still struggling to readjust the bodily clock, I was host to Mary-Jane up in Cambridge on a 'mini-break'. Having I secretly delight in the opportunity to be a tourist here, rather than the normal act of a jaded pah-Kings-College-take-it-or-leave-it local.

So we went to see some punts at the Millpond,

and had an ale at ye olde authenticke pubbe.

The secret challenge for me was to obtain enough photos of MJ in front of Cambridge landmarks or doing Cambridge-y things to produce a 2006 calendar. So with those two down and 10 to go, some work had to be done. Here are the fruits of my surreptitious labours:

MJ in front of Kings College (with some fudge from the Famous Fudge Shop)

MJ and the River Cam

MJ with an esteemed Cambridge University researcher

MJ in front of Clare College

MJ at Trinity College

MJ at Pembroke

MJ at the Fitzwilliam

MJ at the train station (clutching at straws here...)

OK count em... only 10, unfortunately. So you'll have to wait around til 2007 for the calendar. Make sure you do though: it'll clearly be worth it.

Inspired by all this Cambridg-abilia, i went to visit Kings College Chapel, having not been inside it previously. The outside was looking particularly splendid in the sunshine:

as was I:
The inside is really spectacular (of the chapel, that is). Unfortunately, photos are not allowed so i can't share any with you. But, thanks to a less respectful person, who flagrantly disregarded this rule, then had the hide to post his handiwork on the internet, you can have a bit of a look at the Rubens altarpiece and stainglass windows:

Making the most of what would turn out to be the last really nice summery day in Cambridge for the season, I moseyed across Jesus Green and Midsummer Common,
down to the river, which was looking most bucolic,

and read until the sun set.

Bye bye summer, fare thee well.

The travels continued, this time to the continent, to visit my PhD supervisor, Mark, and his family in Darmstadt, near Frankfurt.

But not before a little BBQ with some nice folk from astrophysics, with whom i had become acquainted at the previous weekend's garden party. The BBQ was at the Mullard Radio Astronomy Observatory outside Cambridge, around which we had a little tour in the official van.

The festivities then adjourned to a house back in Cambridge, at which point I should have made my goodbyes and headed home then to the station to catch my 4:40am train to Stansted, in order to catch my 7:20am flight.

Suffice to say... ... i kinda missed my train at 4:40am, so i kinda missed my flight at 7:20am. Oops.

Upon eventual arrival at Stansted, i discovered the next flight to Heathrow was not until 8pm. On the upside, it gave me some time to work on my presentation back at the office. Finally arrived at Frankfurt airport at 1am. Delays have a curious tendency to grow.

It was great to catch up with Mark and Carmen, and to see Alex and Michele who had both grown a lot since i last saw them in May.

The next day, we went to Heidelberg, a charming city on the Rhine reknowned for its university and its disproportionate influence on Australian art.

The castle, seen in the background of the above shot, is the thing to see so there we went, with Mark exhibiting an herculean pram-pushing effort up the hill.

Inside the castle was THE BIGGEST BEER BARREL IN THE WORLD.

While that one was big, it wasn't THE BIGGEST BEER BARREL IN THE WORLD. Yes thatt's right, the Actual BIGGEST BEER BARREL IN THE WORLD was even bigger:

As a proud Australian, I love big things. For example, THE BIG BANANA:

And another personal favourite, THE BIG PRAWN:

Also, as a proud Australian, I love beer. So seeing THE BIGGEST BEER BARREL IN THE WORLD was almost too much.

Admittedly Friday's BBQ excesses were still a recent memory so it was a bittersweet moment. Nonetheless Heidelberg Castle and surrounds were very cool:

as was the cathedral back down the hill in town:

The next day I resumed my place in Nina and Johanna's office in the Materials Engineering Department at Technische Universitat Darmstadt. I'd spent several fun and productive weeks residing in this office in July last year, so it was something of a reunion.

Being in Darmstadt, i couldn't pass up the opportunity (and I know all you Art Nouveau fiends out there will know what i'm talkin' about) to at least pay my respects to the Matildenhohe, an icon of Jugendstil.

Some of those with less appreciation for such things may find this particular consumer product label entertaining:

As a gesture of cultural understanding, I gave my talk on "Lattice materials and optimal sandwich panels" in German:

which, as one could imagine, went down a treat, for at least the first 42 seconds.

The trip home was, thankfully, less eventful than the outward journey, although the way that a one hour plane flight manages to stretch out into a 9 hour door-to-door travel extravaganza never ceases to amaze me. Missing the last train from Stansted so that i had to wait 45mins for the National Express coach definitely didn't help. Nonetheless a worthwhile outing to Deutschland, and excellent to catch up with Mark and his family & and the good folk at TU Darmstadt.

I figure a new country warrants a new post. So this one picks up on the overland adventure of Grant and Matt as we cross the border into Wales.

I have some Welsh ancestry, as may be obvious from my excellent dragon impersonation (or imdragonation i suppose), so this was partly an exploration of my roots.

The tagline from Twin Town attempts to sum it up:

Rugby. Tom Jones. Male Voice Choirs. Shirley Bassey. Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwyllllantisiliogogogch. Snowdonia. Prince of Wales. Anthony Hopkins. Daffodils. Sheep. Sheep Lovers. Coal. Slate Quarries. The Blaenau Ffestiniog Dinkey-Doo Miniature Railway.

Now If That's Your Idea Of Thousands Of Years Of Welsh Culture, You Can't Blame Us For Trying To Liven The Place Up A Little Can You?

To that list, add: Leeks, Bryn Terfel, Charlotte Church, Gwyneth Paltrow, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Human Traffic and Daffyd, the only gay in the village of Llanddewi Brefi.

And i suppose if you want to be really 'clever', the movie Twin Town.

The countryside is very picturesque, which vindicated my decision to incorrectly navigate us off the main road and onto a series of winding lanes,

which somewhat delayed our arrival in Cardiff. Nonetheless we managed to get out on the town and have a kebab, in accordance with Grant's noble ambition to try at least one kebab in every country visited.

The following day, after an early start to move the car from the loading zone we'd left it in the previous night before an irate , we had a proper mosey about Cardiff (Caerdydd), checking out the town hall and gardens,

the museum,

Cardiff Castle,

Bute Park, which features a mini-Stonehenge,

the River Taff,

and the Millenium Stadium.

Having 'done' Cardiff, we hit the road, back to England over the Severn,

and on to Bath. Like Stratford and Cambridge, Bath was very poorly thought out when the roads were laid out in the middle ages. No consideration appears to have been given whatsoever to future tourists in hire-cars. It only took us two and a half hours to find a parking spot which left at least 25 minutes to look around the town. We managed to have a lookee at the baths, although, as with all things related to hygiene and cleanliness, my interest in these was pretty limited,

and checked out the cathedral,

the park,

and the Avon (yet again...), which seems to wend its way past almost every major tourist attraction in Great Britain before it meets the sea in Bristol.

Next stop, Stonehenge,

where we continued the cheapskate approach, managing to avoid payment of both the entrance and parking fees (by looking through the fence and (accidentally) parking illegally...)

This shot looks toward an area called The Cursus, which is a 3km-long earthwork, parallel to a tangent to the Stonehenge circle. The sheep is a special Neolithic breed, of the type that grazed the Salisbury plain at the time that Stonehenge was built and which are believed to have been regarded as holy by the druids. This animal is part of a flock which was bred via genetic engineering, by splicing Neolithic sheep DNA, obtained from lamb bones found in ceremonial druidic barbeques, into the genome of extant Wiltshire sheep breeds.

Next shot shows a genuine 21c AD clown with some genuine 10c BC rocks.

And another one of da 'henge, looking particularly dramatic.

It makes one wonder how many summer solstice celebrations had to be cancelled due to heavy rain in the past 3000 years.

After all that megalithic excitement, we pressed on back towards London. I dropped off Grant near Heathrow and, just like that, the adventure was over.

Not long after returning from Manchester, having only become very briefly acquainted with the cows of Coe Fen

and enjoyed one more glimpse of the beautiful sights this town offers,

Grant farewelled Cambridge. He was, understandably, almost totally overcome with emotion in doing so:

We hired a car, and went west, chasing the dragon so to speak.
Can you pick what is wrong with this picture of us embarked upon our travels?

I didn't notice this at time:

And i thought Leamington Spa seemed like such a nice town...

First stop Warwick, for lunch in the beautiful sunshine,

and to visit the castle.

It is really cool, complete with portcullis,

towers and battlements,

archaic torture instruments and old weapons

a panto-style jousting routine (The Evil Black Knight is BEHIND YOU!!! He's OVER THERE!!!),

and demonic creature.

The gardens and river were very nice also.

Then on to Stratford-upon-Avon where, having spent all our allocated culture money on the entrance fee for Warwick Castle, we couldn't afford to shell out more £ to go into Shakespeare's birthplace,

we instead enjoyed a stroll along the banks of the Avon,

had a bit of a looky-see at the authentic(?) Tudor facades featured througout the town,

and went to spend some our allocated ale money.

Back on the road, with Grant as the designated driver, and me the navigator & designated drinker, in ascending order of importance, across the countryside of Worcestershire and Herefordshire.

And on to the Lland of the Dragon...