Somewhat Overdue Update

Saturday morning conversations about Welsh rock bands can be topped by only two things: Saturday Morning conversations about superheros, psychedelic drugs, and Welsh Mythology; and Welsh rock bands themselves. Adrian, Cwrs Pellach tutor, was in fine form during Saturday's tea break, joking with the Aberystwyth boys about Superman ("Swperdyn") and the third branch of the Mabinogi. Adrian is the head of the Canolfan Dysgu Cymraeg, posesses a reverberating voice, and (as James says) may be the only person in the world who can discuss chaos theory yn Cymraeg.

Adam: I mean, Batman's just buggered if he forgets his utility belt, isn't he?
James: His trousers would be around his ankles, for one thing.

Adrian: There is only one thing that can explain Welsh mythology. Too many magic mushrooms. (Insert disquisition on Bran and Branwen here.) What did they do with Bran's body, anyway? Use it as a boat to get back to Wales? "Why is my head down by my ankles?" "Oh, don't worry about it, Bran."

I'm not sure the latter citation works well if you weren't actually there, but I'm including it as an aid for my own memory.

After class, James, Phil, Erin, Kat, and I got into Phil's car and made the two-hour drive to Dolgellau, a small town in the foothills of Snowdonia built entirely of the local shale.


As James is the first to point out, there's even less to do in Dolgellau than in Lampeter-- except during the Sesiwn Fawr, when people come from all over Britain to see bands from all over the world. We camped in a pair of tents on the fairgrounds, which made for an interesting (read: cramped and cold) night, as Jo had kindly lent us girls a two-person tent and a pair of sleeping bags. We'll never complain about our University accommidations again. The campsite, however, was beautiful. Here's the view of Snowdonia from our tent:


We saw eight of the many acts, including the UK Ukelele Band, whose cover of "Shaft" has now been added to the list of Best Covers Ever, EVER.* Phil, in his enthusiasm, had us scheduled down to the minute. We saw a Mexican band, Los de Abajos, who I greatly enjoyed until two of the members put on George Bush and Vicente Fox masks and the crowd was encouraged to heckle them off the stage. I was suddenly distinctly aware of being in a foreign country. (Then, and when one of Jo's fiddler friends turned to me and asked, "are they singing in Welsh?" "I think it's Spanish," I said. "Ah," she said. "I'm from London. I just knew that I didn't understand it.") All in all, though, masks aren't so bad. As I mentioned to James, "don't people still burn the Pope in effigy in this country?"

James's family is from Belfast, and he's my partner in Catholic triumphalism**-- particularly entertaining when some of our acquaintances know nothing about it. Example:
Phil: So, are you a member of a sect, or...
Alice: No, just Catholic.
Phil: Are Mormons Catholic?
James: PHIL!

Alice: (Trying to get him up for mass in the morning) You don't want to get in the car with Phil driving with missing mass on your soul.
James (Putting on his sweatshirt): Yeah, I'm going to Hell anyway. I might as well try to make it Purgatory.

Other good bands: The very American Group Hayseed Dixie (say it to yourself six times fast and you'll get the pun), which does bluegrass covers of heavy metal songs, Welsh Emo/Eclectic Euros Child, and Welsh Rock band Frizbee, who closed the festival with the Welsh National Anthem on the electric guitar. Euros Child was by far our favorite, and we were at the very front-- which is how I discovered that my head is at precisely the elbow hight. Last week we learned that the welsh word for elbow is the same as Patagonian slang for 'small penis',*** and this provided much private entertainment. Despite the drunken, arm-waving Welshmen, the Euros Child set is now up there above Ozomatli/Los Lonely Boys on my favorite concerts list. Anyway, Steph: WELSH EMO. I'll bring some home for you, because I love you.

Phil and James are excellent tourguides, full of geographical and historical information which usually involves the Welsh nationalist movement. On our drive back to Lampeter, Phil made us stop at the site of Owain Glyndwr's Welsh Parliament. It was closed, but I did get a picture of the plaque.


And North Wales, of course, was beautiful-- even when Phil's Welsh Bling got in the way.


In other news, both classes are afflicted by particularly strict and unpleasant tutors this week. Carol is, in a way, growing on me in that I understand her pedagogy--but she'll never be our beloved Meleri from last week. We've been to the Student Union Pub almost every night because there's nowhere else to hang out and complain.

Alice: I am, however, glad to now have subordinate clauses.
Adam: What's a subordinate clause?
Alice: ...
James: We're British. We don't study our own language.

Tomorrow, we have a day trip to St. David's Cathedral. I promise to take pictures--and I might even post them on time. To make up for the delay, here's a picture of one of the locals:


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*Other items on the list: The Gypsy Kings' cover of "Hotel California" and Cake's "I Will Survive".
** Apologetics a la James: "Well we're Catholic and we were founded by Jesus, so give up."
***Penelin. Once again, don't say I never taught you anything.