The Disingenuous Centaur: A Pub by Jackson and Emms

This past weekend, I went over to Risca, near Cardiff (the capital of Wales) to visit one of my best friends, Andrew Emms. Since I'd stayed with him and his family one and a half years ago, I didn't really feel the need to do any more touristy kinds of things around Cardiff. Essentially, therefore, I ended up relaxing with Mr. Emms around town for much of the visit. 

We started in London, where we visited Portobello Market, which was underwhelming, and it was also hot outside. Oh well. After that was the un-air-conditioned train ride to Cardiff. It was exceedingly hot and uncomfortable. We hopped out of the train (happily) and set out around the city.

It should be noted that in Cardiff there exists the greatest tea house in the entire world. It's called The Plan, and I went there during my first trip to the Emms household. In fact, you can see me in 2008 on the left, and 2010 on the right. Unfortunately, I couldn't get the same table, but I was just one away, so I'm satisfied. I was worried that The Plan wouldn't live up to my astronomical expectations, but upon delivery of the tea and scones, my fears dissolved entirely. The place is really amazing...beyond just serving great tea and scones, it has this ambience that's unbelievable: the whole place just has this incredible sense of age. 

After we finished up tea, we went into a second-hand bookshop--a fitting overture for the rest of the trip--where I purchased (for 3 pounds!!) a 1927ish leatherbound copy of Percy Shelley's poetry and an old collection of American short stories, including ones from Ambrose Bierce and Mark Twain. Whoo. We had dinner at Nandos, a cool chicken place, that I enjoyed quite a bit. Emms' chicken was a bit too spicy, though.  We trained back to Risca from Cardiff, met up with his parents, went out to a pub, drank, went back to his room, watched The Fountain, and went to sleep. By the way, the Welsh national beer is called Brains, and is brewed in Cardiff. Check it out.

The second day was epic. Emms' mother--Ros--had remembered a town called Hay-on-Wye, about 1.5 hours away in England, where there were tons of used book sellers. Not sure what to expect, I rode in the car out with Emms, his mom, and his dad, Mark. We got to the town, parked, and started walking around. The place was unbelievable. I'm going to live there one day. There were maybe 15-20 used book sellers in a tiny town, which were supplemented by a healthy tea-house population. The rest of the stores sold antique furniture. I sort of went crazy, buying 4 books for 12 pounds. I got a leatherbound 1917 edition of the Pickwick Papers by Dickens (3 pounds!!!!!), a 1920's edition of Modern English Usage (1 pound), and a new copy of Coraline (1 pound). I can't understand how such a wonderland of a town came to exist in middle-of-nowhere England, but I'm not complaining; the place is amazing. 

That night we had a really good dinner, made by one of the best chefs in Wales. I had pea and ham soup, followed by venison sausage covered in lentils. People are always knocking British cuisine, but dinner was really really good. Nom nom. We headed back, hit a pub, and went to sleep. By the way, I've been working on my Welsh for a while now, but the only word I can ever remember is Araf, which means slow, because it's painted on the roads. Wales is cool because they have to post all the signs in Welsh and English. 

The next day was pretty uneventful...we just hung out until my train in the evening. I'm reading Atlas Shrugged right now, and on the train I was at the part in the book where a tunnel collapsed on a train, killing everyone inside. Then a man said that because the Tunnel under the River Seven was leaking and needed repairs, we were being diverted around the river. I was kinda creeped out, but glad we didn't try the tunnel. I made it back to London, and collapsed from exhaustion. Pictured right: Emms' street at sunset. 


By the way, while Emms and I were talking, we realized that in order to generate a good pub name, you just use the formula: Pub Name = Adjective + Mythical Creature. Think about it. The Shifty Griffin. The Downtrodden Dragon. The Chuckling Kraken. The best one in my opinion, though, was The Disingenuous Centaur. What a cool name. Also, we concluded that the term "half-pint" was emasculating, so we'd forever after call them "Traveler's Pints," which sounds a lot cooler.