Calling All Castles

You know how cherry trees blossoming in winter becomes kind of second nature awe sometimes? Well that's how I would describe the abundance of age old castles that dominant the landscape here in Wales. "Look!" "Another castle!" "Wow. Another one." Not to dismiss the immensity and amazement of these historic structures, but holy my cherry tree, they are everywhere!




The first castle I was blessed to stand in awe of went by the name of Llansteffan. It's situated atop a cliff that overlooks a beautifully British Columbian estuary - so long as you don't heed the rolling patchwork hills that edge it's shorelines. The castle itself was in a state of ruins, but ruins they were, they were absolutely stunning. The castle was built sometime after 1100. Apparently the Normans came in and threw her up as part of their campaign only to eventually lose it to the english. In comparison, to other castles in the area, she isn't all that big but good things come in small packages - as we all know. Dylan Thomas' Boathouse is also nearby and so, after we tired of our snap happy ways, we took a pleasent stroll to where one of the most infamous Welsh poets drank himself to death. A fitting death for a welsh artist really.




The boathouse featured no boats and I didn't take note of any docks either but I can imagine the peace and inspiration one might find in such a setting. A crisp mojito while gazing out at the Irish sea wouldn't be too bad for the soul either. Although in retrospect perhaps one would shy from the partaking.





Dylan Thomos is probably best known for his poem "Do no go gentle into that good night." And his play "Under Milkwood." He wrote solely in english, which perhaps is interesting, as one might expect him to represent his native country, but perhaps welsh sounded as funny to him as it does to me. Not that I don't love to listen to it. I just can't imagine producing fluent stanzas in such a foreign language. Although, the welsh poetry that I have been lucky enough to hear, thanks to an amazing poetry reading in Carmarthen, is really quite mesmerizing. It flows in away you might not guess it could if you had only heard it in spoken word.



So, me dear sweet Castles and Poets here is something to take in return for your magestic and varied beauty:



Oh Castles,

You ancient, stone-walled beasts

Looking out over sea

Land, and Boathouse

Every stone a little different

Every fortress its own

No rolling hill lacking

No white sheep unseen

Oh, Castles

You ever-present monstrosities,

Wales would be naked with out you.

Leaky Cold Showers and No Running Water

If ever a person must be diligently organized it is whilst attending Trinity University. Showers are an essential component of any college students routine, although that could be argued for some, and here at Trinity the chance for a warm shower must be planned to the moment. Thus far I have only heard stories of desparingly cold showers but his morning I was lucky enough to join the ranks of shivering students. Anytime before 11am is a bad time to chance your shower temperature. Before 8am can prove fruitful and if you are particularly diligent you can time most classes in your flat and hop on in when you think you've beat them to it. So really it's part organization and part risk, I say risk because a cold shower anytime before noon is a heart wrenching matter that will send you running for your warm blankets leading to missed class and multiple naps. On top of this, if you happen to have a leaky shower, which of course I do, you must try and plan your showers for moments when you suspect that no one is in the kitchen below you, therefor no one will come screaming up the stairs at you. All this, of course, relys on the fact that your water is running at all. I continue to turn my cold water tap off only to hear it spewing liquid minutes later because really I have turned it full on and it happend to not be working at the moment.
I lay no blame on Trinity for these things, in fact, it has become a lovely running joke amongst us internationals and even the local students seem to get a kick out their buildings lack of running water - it just doesn't get anymore destitute than no running water. I prepare you now, future Trinity exchange students, the going will be ghetto but worth every damn penny.

When in Wales

When in Wales you must wear your wellies while walking down the incredbily narrow corridors desperately seacrching for the loo, repeatdely saying 'what' when given rambling, heavily accented directions. My two mainstay sentences since I have gotten here have been 'what?' and 'I am Canadian' (not American). It just so happens I have been put in a flat with several Americans and naturally they have thus far become my good friends. Understandably everyone now assumes my nationality and its been a repeated struggle to set them straight. That's not the worst of things though. Besides rudely yelling 'what' in peoples faces I am also having a hard time turning on the lights, opening doors, flushing the toilet and taking a shower. Crossing the road is downright dangerous! It doesn't help that Carmarthen is quite fond of their roundabouts - apparently the most common tourist death is being hit by cars. (Hmm) The lights are at head level and flip the wrong way, the doors often push in the opposite directions ( I thought I was locked out of a gas station the other night and the girl finally came to the door to tell me it was open - you hardly want to open your North American mouth when that happens) The doors also seem to lock in the other direction and apparently you can double lock them, which I have not figured out. The toilets in the flats work 30 to 70% of the time and my shower is leaking into the kitchen of the flat below me. I regularly get stuck in narrow corridors with no lights and locked doors, although as soon as a Welsh student comes through them they are magicaly easy to open.

Forget the desparingly simple woes though. Wales is a phenomenal country. Although I have had a student or two ask why in the world I would want to come here. Which is rather ironic because the Welsh students are notorious homebirds and all the students live within a 40 km radius of the school. It's not nearly as common for a Welsh student to travel abroad as it is for us kids back home. So even though they aren't so fond of it here they don't want to leave.

There are many things to do when in Wales but the priority is partying. In september they have what is called Freshers Fortnight and literally (that is my favorite accented word here) they all party every single night for two weeks. Apparently it's quite common for the ambulance to make flat calls during Freshers. Thankfully they don't officially do this in January, but the party week starts on Wednesday and ends, well, sometimes it doesn't seem to end. Most of us international students were relieved to start classes because boredom does not contribute well to twiddling your thumbs at home, and with a huge club and pub right on campus it's nearly impossible to sit silently in your flat. Now we have classes though and that should take up some of our time. I say some because the adademic system here is bewildering. You need about 60 credits a semester and most classes are 30 (first year classes, or level 4 modules as they call them are usually 15) so you have two classes a week and often you don't even have your classes every week. The running motto here is challenge by choice so you are expected to work on your own for 90% of the time. Basically you get, depending on your module, two to three assignments and usually you can just hand them in any time from now to before you leave the school. They think that we are spoon fed in North America and that students should take total responsibility for their learning. At least there will be a minimum of lengthy boring lectures.
It's been an absolute whirlwind since I got here and jetlag is hell, but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world right now, even if they had proper showers and wider corridors.

The Day Dreaming Begins

Hello All,

My name is Rhea Reimer and I am officially destined for the picteresque hills of South West Wales vis a vis the amazing Camosun College Exchange program. Studying at Trinity University in Caramarthen has really only recently become a dream of mine. The chance to study abroad, however, has long been one of those murky midnight movies. I must admit, though, I am still a little beyond excitement. This is not to say I am not excited ( you should have seen the glorious victory dance when I learned of my acceptance) I am just that excited that it is hard to completely comprehend. I have already spent many a bus ride and not so stimulating a lecture conjuring up my upcoming adventure but no matter the imagination I just can't fully grasp the amazing enormity of this opportunity.

I've made a home at Camosun over the last couple of years. I know all of the buildings, bus routes and expectations, paired with a solid group of friends I have created somewhat of a routine for myself. (although we all know what a conundrum routine is in the working student world) To imagine what it will be like to start all over, not just at another school, but in another country, is somewhat ungraspable and thus perfect fodder for wild and mysterious daydream entertainment.

I imagine many a thing but nothing will compare to the actuality of the experience. I relish the moment of arrival when my preconceived notions and landscapes will melt away into total reality. Come the New Year Trinity University will be a dreamscape realized. I can't wait to share what that reality will look like.