We hadn’t intended on visiting Cardiff, but the idea became intriguing as the Great Western train lurched toward the city. It was mid-afternoon in November; raindrops were pattering against the train car windows and dusk would soon be settling in. The weather was less cheery than the blue skies my brother Bill and I had left in London earlier that autumn day.
Bill and I hoped to do a bit of daylight sightseeing in Wales before the next section of our journey the following day, which would be northern England. The coastal town of Swansea was intended destination, but once we saw the sign announcing Caerdydd Canolog, the Cardiff central rail station, we decided to gather our belongings and disembark the train as it made its stop.
We located the tourist information offices (across the street from the rail station), and used their booking service to reserve a room at what we expected to be a modest bed and breakfast. Gathering city brochures and a map, we stepped back outside. The approaching nightfall mixed with an overcast sky lent the city a dreary but oddly pleasing tone of gray, and the light mist gave a slightly delicate flavor to the air.
Umbrellas over our heads and shuffling the map between us, we gained our bearings then walked west on Custom House Street to Bute Terrace and spotted a multi-storey hotel which was at the exact position where we expected our unassuming bed and breakfast to be located. Double-checking the address, map and directions, we found that this hotel, The Big Sleep, was where we had been booked for the evening. Surprisingly, the reception area of the Big Sleep isn’t located at the front door. A person enters through the front door, walks down a short hallway to a pair of elevators (one of which was operational during our stay), and discovers that the reception area is one storey above ground level.
After checking in and settling into an agreeable yet economical room, there was still a farthing of daylight left to explore Cardiff. Scrums of entrepreneurs sold pennants, caps, scarves and other souvenirs at various stands along the sidewalks as we made our way through the city.
Cardiff’s Victorian-style shopping arcades sell everything a person could hope for and they keep a person out of the elements. Cardiff Central Market has a large upper floor devoted to two shops: a record/tape/CD store, and a pet store. A live flop-eared bunny can be purchased upstairs for a pet, and you can stroll downstairs to buy a full, skinned rabbit for supper at one of the arcade’s butcher shops.
Directional signs in both the Welsh and English languages guide the tourist; we came upon the monumental Cardiff Castle but it had already been secured for the evening. A nearby pub, The Goat’s Major, looked to be a wonderful diversion. The city’s local brew, Brains, is served there and couple pints of Brains are a refreshing offering for two weary travelers. Walking past the Millenium Dome, we saw that a sporting event was about to take place. We later found out that this was a big rugby weekend and the city was expected to grow by an additional 10,000 fans for the night’s game and five to six times that for the following night's match.
We ambled around the streets a little longer, testing several beers and ales at different pubs — the pubs were getting more and more lively by the minute. From what we could tell, as Cardiff’s nightlife began to pick up, it seemed to be within some peoples’ grasp of appropriateness to urinate against businesses’ outside walls, and even defecate in parking lots. The advertising slogan on the city’s tourist map is Surprised? You will be. I hardly think that this is what they had in mind when they came up with that axiom.
We discovered that a thing to keep in mind for a visit to Cardiff is to eat early. In the tourist season most restaurants stop serving food at 7 PM, and in the off-season (and, rugby madhouse or not, November is the off-season) restaurants tend to close up for the night by 6 PM. Here it was, a little after 7 o’clock, and we did plenty of sloshing around, rain-soaked and hungry, but found no place to get a substantial meal. (Although later on I did notice advertisements in city brochures for restaurants which stay open late. Unfortunately, we didn’t look at those brochures earlier.)
Some backtracking though the city ensued as we hunted for our meals. We found an alley-like street that hosts a string of take-aways. I decided on a Welsh pasty and chips with a Fanta to drink. Bill ordered a curry chicken with chips, and we went back to the hotel to watch Cardiff’s team play rugby on the television. The match’s commentary in Welsh. Bill grumbled about the quality of his chicken curry; my pasty was greasy, but enjoyable.
The following day we were out in the morning rain with strong winds whipping about, trekking towards Caerdydd Canolog to board a train to Yorkshire. As I watched the outskirts of Cardiff pass by my train window the thought crossed my mind that I was delighted to have made acquaintance with this city.
c. 2002 Todd Wisti
American author Todd Wisti writes about touring Cardiff, along with other aspects of British travel, in his book Full English Breakfast published by iUniverse.com.
