Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Wales Trip Day 3: To the coast

Before leaving the UK we intend to do a fair amount of sightseeing. This is an account of a week we recently spent travelling in Wales. Its not a live-blog, but I noted a few observations each day so that the posts read a little as if I had had a computer with me. (And its not as if anyone reading this cares where I actually am sitting when I post this!)

We set out from Llandrindod Wells and made for a nearby village, where an old barn had been converted into a children's activity centre . We wanted to give our son the chance to blow off some steam before cooping him up in the car for most of the rest of the day. The activity barn was great fun, and though some of the activities were more geared for older children he enjoyed it immensely. One of the good things about it was that adults could accompany their children around the various contraptions. This was ideal for us, but what I found surprising was that most of the other parents there spent their time sitting and reading rather than interacting with their children. When we were climbing around after our son, several of the other children plainly wanted to play, and we saw a few asking their parents to come and join them only to be rebuffed. I know that getting some free time is valuable, but it seems to me that those parents' priorities were misplaced. It seems to me that if parents spent more time with their children while they were children that they would know them better when they become young adults, and would therefore know better how to raise them - and know precisely how much to loosen the reins.

From Quackers we set out for the coast, stopping for an impromptu picnic in an utterly silent valley just off the main road beyond Rhyader. Then it was on through the Cambrian Mountains, passing below the uplands where both the Wye and the Severn have their source, a few miles from one another. The Severn flows north and the Wye south, only being reunited due to an accident of the last glacial episode where an ice dam blocked the Severn's path and forced it to cut a new path down to the Bristol channel. We came out of the mountains and caught a glimpse of the sea before descending into the valley leading to Aberystwyth, Cardiganshire.

The seafront at Aberystwyth

Most of the UK's seaside towns have suffered in the last generation or so. The story is the same: they grew up on the back to the Victorian railway booms and continued to serve holidaymakers until the advent of cheap air travel in the 1970s, when visitors began to desert them and decline well and truly set in. Denied their regular custom, hoteliers were forced to cut rates, whereupon Local Government started housing junkies and others it had obligations to find homes for there. Naturally this did wonders for the towns' aesthetics and crime rates and made matters worse.

Whether it is money from the devolved assembly, the growth of the University, or a more natural recovery, this does not seem to be the case in Aberystwyth today. The town has a real feeling of revival about it. The seafront hotels are being repainted and the promenade has had new stones laid along it. We only spent one night there so can't vouch for the rest of town, but the vibe we got was of a newfound confidence if not outright economic prosperity.

Room with a view

We spent the night at the Marine Hotel, a family run affair, which occupies several buildings along the promenade. The buildings are old and have undulating coridoors reminiscent of accomodation blocks in certain Oxford colleges (indeed many of the seafront buildings are university halls of residence - and will net the university a handy little windfall if the town continues to grow). We got a fantastic room, which had clearly been redone recently, with a very nice bathroom (featuring a massive jacuzzi tub). The main selling point was the view - a large sash window overlooking the beach. The price for three of us, including breakfast was a bargain. There were a couple of negatives - the car park is located at the back of the hotel, at the far end from the lift: better to hover out the front while unloading and then park. The water pressure in the bathroom was low and the breakfast was average. Otherwise it was another good hotel. I guess the test for hotels is whether you would stay there again - and it certainly passes that test.

Now, something Aberystwyth certainly doesn't market itself as is a spa town, but it does have an asset that would be of interest to anyone seeking a healthy living break. The beach there is not sand, but a kind of medium coarse grit. Fine for swimming from, but not the most comfortable surface to walk barefoot on - except that after half an hour of walking along the waters edge your feet will feel like you have just had a pedicure. Without the presence of mincing metrosexuals to boot.

Scouring sands

Before dinner we walked along the promenade to the ruins of the castle and the war memorial. En-route you pass a major University building of some kind. It is a wonderful testament to the greatness of Victorian Britain. Here, on this windswept spot, a mere 20 feet from the shore, they built a gothic sandstone behemoth. Blasted by the salt and the spray it stands there. Eroding to be sure, but very much in one piece. It exudes a self-confidence, sadly gone: today we'd build some abomination in metal and glass that would have to be torn down in a generation's time, or some limp-wristed eco-friendly squat monstrosity, hidden away behind windbreaks and drains - hiding from the elements not seeking to master them.

The castle ruins

War memorial

The castle is a picturesque ruin, occupying one half of a promontory shared with the town war memorial. Now, one thing I noticed on the trip was that the Welsh do good war memorials. A small village, which in England would have a dignified limestone cross, might sport a striking creation of porphypy and bronze, while a major place like Aberystwyth goes for something far grander: a tall obelisk, decorated with a nymph staring out to sea and topped by Winged Victory, with the names of the dead of both wars attached on large bronze sheets. It provides a focal point for the bay, and again one sees in it the confidence and power of that bygone age.

Dinner was spent in the restaurant at the end of the pier. A great setting, but the restaurant could do a better job with it. The food was good (I had a plate of crevettes, which I'd never had before - giant shrimp essentially) but one note of warning: if you order the steak, do not ask for it to be well done. Medium-well came out charred and was sent back. Re-ordered as medium it came out a perfect well done (but edible that time).

Sunset from our hotel room

Now, I've spoken here about the cultural confidence of our past. But what of the future. After all, Wales has devolved government (which is clearly doing it some good - we can leave debate about the financials for another day), so how are things going otherwise? Not much better than the rest of the UK if the snippet I saw on television that night is anything to go by. While we were in Wales they were gearing up for the annual Eisteddfod - basically a big cultural festival and celebration of Welsh culture. Now, I can't say that I was paying much attention, but there was something on in the background about it - a documentary in which they were asking the organiser of this year's event how he kept it 'relevant' and he waffled about how despite being inherently a conservative event (I know, the horror!) because of its link with tradition (urgh!) it was always being updated and so was simultaneously progressive (that's a relief). There then followed a classic cultural cringe moment. The documentary explained how some schools in the Swansea area had brought in an Indian dance instructrix to prepare their pupils to do a number from a 'popular' Bollywood movie as their submission to the Eisteddfod (or its surrounding events). I don't think there's anything wrong with schools doing intercultural activities, but surely an event such as the Eisteddfod if it is anything at all is meant to be a celebration of Welsh culture! That's progressives for you - they'll endorse your right to celebrate your traditions, and shower you with public money to spend on them, and in return they'll dilute those traditions into utter meaninglessness.

To be continued...

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