Day 55: WALES TRIP--The Big Pits

An Early Start So sleepy this morning...the studying parties are lasting even longer, especially since the profs are requiring that our work be complete BEFORE a weekend trip. Makes for some crabby folks come morning. Not me, per se...although this morning was the unparalleled worst morning I've had since being here--I heard galumphing up and down the stairs until 2am, and getting up at 5:30 was like something out of The Ring. My mind was so absent it took until the hotel to realize that I hadn't packed pajamas, a towel, or pants for the next day. Fail. But the oddly loud bus ride was enough to put everyone to sleep. More than once, I woke to total silence from all passengers, even the ever-conversational profs in front. I suspected that they were trying to help little Andrew sleep; he had a white patch taped to his eye and he was sitting like a sad resident of a nursing home. That morning, the two boys were having a little too much fun down in the kitchen, whipping each other with wet rags; unfortunately Beno aimed a little too high, hit Andrew in the eye, and got some particle of food or soap stuck in his eye. The bus drove west, under a blanket of misty grey; the hills became more numerous, greyer, and covered in boulders from the Ice Age. Tony told an uplifting story about two tourists hiking out in those Brechen Beacons and died from exposure. The rain was so misty we must have been driving straight through the clouds; no houses or any other buildings to speak of, until we approached the old mining headquarters.

Blackout

Ever since learning about the Welsh language, back in Brit Lit 1, we learned that their famous stories were passed through odes and minstrels on harps, rather than epic poems found in Celtic culture. We were pushed through a line to the "lobby", where jolly Welshmen with silver whiskers and hands like dried hams fitted us with tin mining hats, flashlights (head-torches), shredded belts with heavy batteries and gas masks (we eyed these nervously). But our cute tourguides were more than thrilled to see us. We got a full earful of the Welsh accent (my favorite thus far, after Sister Becky) and snatches of songs. Looking very out-of-place, most took out their cameras to document our equipment--the guides told us to put them all in "this bucket", as well as our watches, phones and iPods, so as to avoid something blowing up in the mines. The guides laughed and we packed nervously into the clanking chain-linked lift.

The tour was fascinating. I have ancestors that spent generations below ground, shoveling coal onto horse-drawn cars, pale from exhaustion, lack of food and able to see the sun on Sunday only...hence the name, if you can believe it. The Big Pit Coal Mine was the largest mine in Wales, until it closed (like every other mine) in the eighties. Wales has the highest unemployment in Europe because every man and brother and son was working. Before then, it was every Welsh PERSON working below. We passed grey piles of dirt and rocks, smelling sulphur and coal dust, walking on railtracks and ducking under low doorways. He stopped us in the first room and asked us to shut off our torches. In the complete blackness, I couldn't see my hand a milimeter in front of my face. Our guide told us,

"The wee six-year-olds working down below opened and closed the doors to let carts go through. The doors made sure that if one part of the mine caved or blew, the other parts would stay intact. An investment. But the children couldn't hold candles because of the breeze. It might sound daft, but the miners would tie the little'uns to the doors because they would get scared and try to run away. Bit dangerous."

We were all thoroughly unnerved after that. The guide told us about the horrible governors of mining towns like Merthyr Tydfil who paid the workers tokens instead of wages. Like Chuck E Cheese, the tokens, got at an exorbitant price, were redeemable at the most expensive general store in town. A day's tokens got a loaf of bread and half a bottle of milk. Because there was no money and no other jobs, an entire family would go underground just to feed themselves. Incidentally, the missionaries had incredible success in mining towns.

Andrew trailed behind us in a wheelchair, slumped over with his eyes squinted shut. As interesting as the stables were (horses were reported dead in a cave-in, but not people), I was so distracted by Andrew's predicament, all I wanted to do was get out of there and off to Cardiff to find a hospital.

Railway Fame and Alternative Eateries

After the tour, we were encouraged to got through the more museum-y section of HQ. There were pictures of the blackened workers, old tin tubs where they bathed, quotes and political signs when the mine finally closed down; some men sat down and cried, afraid to lose those men they'd made such good friends with. It reminded me of the cameraderie you see with military troops. Only soldiers share the reality of war, and no one at home will ever understand what they went through. So with the mines.

We ran into a cute little girl, probably ten or eleven, and her younger brother. She talked to the Seelys about going to boarding school in Merthyr Tydvil, and was proud to tell us the longest word she knew (and repeated it probably five times before we were satisfied.) According to Wikipedia, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch is a railway station on the island of Anglesey in Wales, is the longest place name in the Welsh language. 51 letters long in the Welsh alphabet, the name can be translated as "St Mary's church in the hollow of the white hazel near to the rapid whirlpool and the church of St Tysilio of the red cave". However, it was artificially contrived in the 1860s as a publicity stunt, to give the station the longest name of any railway station in the United Kingdom.

Cardiff was the site for our hostel. Students went on a quest to find the Hard Rock Cafe, which was closed down. Nikki, Andrew, Ben and Liz weren't so lucky; they managed to wander in and actually try to order in a gay pub (complete with rainbow flags and signs) before a nice drag bartender told them where they were. The funny part was that me and Katy walked by that same pub and Katy announced to everyone what it was from a mile away. Literally. So much for our oh so streetwise men.