A Day in Cymru

Living upto the disclaimer on the top of the page I have failed to update the blog for some time now. But I had a legitimate reason (at least in my opinion); I have been waiting for a genuine experience to write about. And it came along today in the form of a Rugby Match.

With a couple of colleagues from the office we bought tickets for the Wales v. Italy match. Our group was composed me, a Norwegian, an American and a British. We met on 8:30 at Paddington station to get onto the 8:45 train. However, there was a problem; the American was late. Although we waited till the last minute, he failed to show up and we departed without him. With a little bit of disappointment because of the mishap, we set out on our 2.5 hour long journey in our comfy table seats. At the halfway stop, a group of gentlemen that just got on come to our table and without any entrances "subtly" blamed us of sitting in their seats. Now let me explain what was written on our tickets: E 01-2-3-4 FN. We were in Coach E and we were sitting in seats 1-2-3-4. But their tickets were E-01-2-3 as well but they got B on their tickets. Now nobody knew what the letters meant. I ceertainly didn't expect a train ticket to puzzle this many people. After a bit elaboration though we realised that FN meant forward facing seats and B meant backwards. And yes, actually we were sitting in their seats, sort of. By this time, the American called and we told him to get onto the 9:45 train.


At 11:15, we arrived at Cardiff. We got out of the train station to a sea of red t-shirts, scarfs, socks etc. Everybody was there for the match and most of them was Welsh. I say most of them because there were a couple of Italians as well; some of them wearing blue wigs (blue is their team colour). We decided to explore the city for an hour and then come back to the station to pick up the American. Now as a Londoner two things especially caught my eye in Cardiff at first; the signs in
Welsh and the non-existence of any kind of minorities. It was as if there was not a single black or Chinese or some other minority family living in Cardiff. On the streets, everybody was white and British (or Welsh). This didn't disturb me as such but I felt a little more alienated, maybe. Walking through the city, we realised something else; the city was almost shutdown for the match.
The roads were closed the traffic and everybody was crowded into the pubs or were drinking beers outside. Actually all of the city was like an open-air pub. I've never seen that many men (and quite a number of women) with beer bellies in my life. One other quirky thing was the shop names; I got the impression that Welsh doesn't like to elaborate too much on things. For example, the name of one chip shop wa "Chippy" or one stationery store was called "The Pen and the Paper" or the sandwich and fruit juice store called "Fresh". Very refreshing after new-age, made up nonsense shop names you suffer in London, like wagamama, pret a manger or Le Cafe du Maison (a local one).

After a short stroll, we arrived at Cardiff castle but we just looked from the outside and went onto have our first pint of the day. Now, to further demonstrate that Wales is a strange territory I will tell you the name of the local brew: BRAINS. It's a creamy Guiness-like beer and you order it like this: "3 Brains please." I made up this joke after learning the name; drink 5 pints of Brains to lose your mind. Surreal. And, no, it's not the result of a 200 year old typo.

Anyway at 11:20, we met up with the American. By this time, the doors to the stadium was open so we decided to go and get our seats. The Stadium of Light is a beatiful stadium. It's new and very modern. It's also an engineering achievement as it's possible to close the roof of the stadium against adverse weather. As we get into the stadium, I didn't expect much from out seating. But as we got closer to the place on the tickets, I got curious. And when we at last found our seats, I was gobsmacked. We were practically 10m away from the pitch. Everything was going to unfold in front of eyes when the match started. I was delighted. And hungry. So we downed another pint with hotdogs and waited for the kickoff at 13:30. However, first we had to watch the procession of the National Guard with a very spurned up and important looking GOAT on tow. WE guessed it was like a mascot. The NG was followed by a choir which sang hymns or something like that. Not much people was paying attention to them, at least we weren't, because behind them a group of cheerleaders was following. They did a short dance routine in front of all 4 sides but I though we got the worst routine; not much hair throwing and booty shaking. By this time, beer had went through my digestion system and arrived at the waste disposal unit so I rushed to the toilets. And suffered a small shock the moment I entered it. THE PEOPLE WERE PEEING INTO THE SINKS. How gross is that! My mind simply rejected to accpet the scene for a split second. But, unfortunately, reality always win. Anyways, putting that image behind my head I entered a cubicle, got rid of the beer in me and ran out looking at the floor. When I got back my seat, I dutifully advised my companions not to wash their hands at the toilet and explained why. For some reason, they weren't too fazed.

So, at last, the teams got on to the pitch, anthems sang and the ball got kicked. Now let me remind you that this was my first Rugby match and I don't know much about rugy, either. Which, leads to British guy getting questioned constantly; "why did the referee stop the match just now?", "was that a penalty?" (him:"yes") "Why?". I also asked the American's opinion, whether it was similar to American football or not. He didn't seem to be too much impressed with it but was enjoying himself nonetheless. His understanding was definitely better than mine.

What is on my opinion on Rugby after watching a full match? Well it's, of course, a rough sport. Some of the 'tackles' endured by the players was awful. You think no sane person would willingly take that kind of treatment. But when one of the sides starts a charge for the opposite side's goal area, it gets very intense. Also, the excitement of 74,000 people surrounds you and affects you. These were the goods.

Alongside the occasional excitement, most of the match was a bit slow. There were a lot of stops to form 'scrums', to treat players' sprained ankle or hurt toe or something. Play just stopped every now and then; which makes the game a bit pedestrian. Another thing was the spectators. At a football match, the spectators are usually alive with chanting. The stadiums tremble with songs and cheers. Enormous flags ripple above the crowds. Plus mexican waves. What was it like during the Rugby match? It was quiet. The majority of the crowd just sit in their seats and watched the game like they're watching a beauty paegant or something. I didn't feel a sort camarederie or overflow of emotions. There was the occasional mass cheers of "WA-LES" but otherwise it was very sterile. One last thing is the end of the match was a disappointment; and not because it was a draw. There is no extra time in Rugby when the time is up, the game ends. And it just ends. The second the clock ticked the players dropped the ball and quickly left the pitch. That's it. No saluting the crowd, no victory runs, nothing. I got the feeling they were just glad that it has ended and they can go to the pub and have a pint of Brains.

After drinking a couple of pints of our own, we got on the train for London, which was packed and we didn't have reserved seats so we helped ourselves to some empty First Class seats, which luckily nobody claimed afterwards.