Cruising Around Cardiff

Cardiff. Doesn't the very word just beg you to give it a Celtic lilt and curl back your tongue for a retroflex "r"?

Alrighty then, maybe it's just me. (Not even sure that Welsh has retroflex rhotics...I'm probably getting that from David Tennant's Scottish pronunciation. Sorry.) But this was my first-ever excursion into the lovely land of Wales. Shannon and I have been planning to meet up to to go to Cardiff ever since we realized that we'd be in England at the same time. And why Cardiff, you say? Prepare to roll your eyes, my spellbound audience: Cardiff is where they film Doctor Who, and has a DW exhibition and many locations from both Doctor Who (which, as you know, I love desperately) and the more adult spinoff, Torchwood (which I loathe with almost as much vehemence). There's no point in trying to be coy about it: we went to Cardiff because of Doctor Who.

Accordingly, we met up and drove straight to Cardiff Bay to begin our trip with the exhibition. I took pictures of almost everything, but I'll spare you the gory details of set pieces, props, and costumes, all of which were geekishly fantastic, and just give you this adorable picture of me and the TARDIS. Unfortunately for my daily food allowance, there was a gift store as well, so now I've got to figure out how to safely transport my new poster...

Given that most of you are probably not Whovians, we'll move on to...more Doctor Who stuff! The Cardiff Millennium Center has two main attractions for me: 1) it's a towering, imposing, impressive structure inscribed in Welsh and English, and 2) it's the site of the Rift, a supposed crack in space/time where the Doctor can refuel the TARDIS with energy from the universe. In case you've missed it, the Doctor's saved the world many times over, and several of those times have happened here in Cardiff, especially on this spot. Pictures were taken and more geekery ensued.

Then the randomosity of the universe kicked in. We were walking on the bay in the lovely (and quite warm) sunshine when we came upon a beautiful red building filled with music and voices. Intrigued, we poked our heads in, only to find a cultural and educational celebration of Gypsy Roma Traveller culture. There were displays about the lives of Travellers and the issues that they face, including discrimination, educational problems, and (especially in the Nazi era) persecution. There was also free food, so we stuck around, had some sandwiches, and watched some adorable children do ribbon dances to Lady Gaga. I tell you, it was completely surreal.

Anyway, after dropping by the visitor's center for a map and strolling along the waterfront (where we came across the Ianto memorial totally by accident!) we headed toward the city center and Cardiff Castle. I was surprised how much Cardiff reminded me of Dublin; it was probably the pedestrian-only zones lined with nice shops and the bilingual everything in English and (to me) a gorgeous but unintelligible Celtic language. We spent the rest of our time in the Castle; we went on a tour of the Marquess' apartments (absolutely gorgeous and very interesting), climbed the Keep, and walked around the grounds. Not to sound like a snob or anything, but although the apartments were beautiful, I've seen more impressive castles. There wasn't much to it but the apartments, the wall, and the run-down keep in the middle. Of course, we didn't have time to go through the museum part as well, but my favorite castle remains the Chateau de Chillon on the shores of Lake Geneva in Lausanne, Switzerland.

The rest of the evening was uninteresting: I got some dinner at a pub and came back here to talk to my mother, but then my Internet died and stubbornly refuses resurrection. In the morning, I have a very busy last day of sightseeing before I return to London on Thursday. And so, as it is getting late, I bid you good night.

P.S. I learned today that the word spelled "quay" is, for reasons completely beyond my understanding, pronounced "key." For heaven's sake, why? I assume that I should just go with my gut instinct and blame the French language, and sure enough, the Online Etymology Dictionary says: "1690s, variant of M.E. key "wharf" (c.1300), from O.N.Fr. cai (O.Fr. chai) "sand bank," from Gaulish caium (5c.), from O.Celt. *kagio- "to encompass, enclose" (cf. Welsh cae "fence, hedge," Cornish ke "hedge"), cognate with O.E. haga "hedge" (see hedge). Spelling altered by influence of Fr. quai, from the same Celtic source." That last sentence there is the material point; given a lack of transcriptions, I'm not sure how the previous forms of the word were pronounced. In any case, I absolutely refuse to pronounce this word as "key", because 1) "key" is a stupid word for a wharf; 2) "quay" (like "kway") is a lovely word, taking advantage of the totally superfluous letter "q" that I quite like and 3) it's all-around more mellifluous and (to my ears and eyes) more aesthetically pleasing. And Dictionary.com lists my reading as well, so I'm never ever saying it "key." Grr.

P.P.S. On the motorway on the way to Cardiff, a jet-black Audi R8 flashed by us in the other direction, looking for all the world like a Night Fury on the way to ransacking a Viking village. My heart melted a little bit...

 P.P.P.S. For those of us who are Whovians, something I should note here: Despite all our previous assumptions, Daleks actually are fricking scary. There were three of them at the exhibition in a dark room filled with smoke, shrieking and blinking and firing lasers. Facing down one of those is basically staring down a screaming, hate-filled tank. I've never been afraid of a Dalek before, but now that I've looked one in the...eye-stalk, I can see how they could be such a menace. If they weren't so, y'know, pathetically inefficient and facepalmingly dense.