6/12/16,
“The Boy Who Lived”
Cardiff,
Wales, United Kingdom
In my first
entry, I wrote about the words that ended the last book and brought us to
tears, but what about the other side, the words that captivated us, that made
us begin the journey that would last seven years at Hogwarts and Nineteen Years
Later and make us want to fly halfway across the world to see how the story
continued? “The Boy Who Lived”. It was such a simple chapter title, but what
did it mean? Who was this boy, and why
did it matter that he lived? That was a
secret Rowling would not fully reveal to us until the end of Book 7, but the
name would keep popping up.
We all
remember the first sentence: “Mr and Mrs Dursley of number four, Privet Drive,
were happy to say that they perfectly normal, thank you very much.” But, why?
Why ws it so important to them to identify as normal, and what did that
have to do with this boy who lived? We
would slowly learn more and more details of that, even learning a new secret in
Book 7, that Mrs. Dursley actually didn’t want to be normal, that she was
envious of her sister’s abilities. These
were just mere details in our seven-year journey to follow the Boy Who
Lived.
We would learn and each every
detail through seven books, eight movies, supplemental interviews and articles,
and a two-part play, yet, we would continue to hunger for more, all because of
those four little words: “The Boy Who Lived”.
It is only fitting that my journey today took me to the filming location
of the original 4 Privet Drive. It was
just an ordinary house in an ordinary neighbor in an ordinary town in
Surrey. It had the desired effect. No Muggle would ever suspect it was the home
of The Boy Who Lived.
When I went to
sleep last night, I wondered if I should just cancel this extension, call up
Hertz, let them sort through the details at the car, book two more nights at
The Savoy, and tag-along with my friend until Tuesday. It would be much simpler surely, so why
didn’t I do it? Well, Wales. That was the main site to see during my
trip. Wales, which had been one of my
top destinations for a long time. I knew
if I didn’t go to Wales this trip, I would need to come back for it another
time. I slept in, I suppose still
debating whether or not I would be going to Wales.
Finally, around 10 AM, the absolute latest I
figured I could leave and still make it to Cardiff before the souvenir shops
closed, I took a taxi to the airport.
They were able to sort everything out quickly enough and get me in a new
car before noon. It turned out,
actually, that I was only an hour later than I could have been, since it was
not until 10 AM that the Kwik Fit opened for them to call and verify the
location of the car. However, that hour
would prove crucial. Everything was down
to the wire, and I realized I’d be missing or making places by a matter of
minutes, not hours.
I headed first to 4
Privet Drive, which has an actual address of 12 Picket Pock Close, Bracknell,
Surrey, as opposed to 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, the address we
know all too well. There was a light
drizzle, and I took some pictures outside.
There was a woman in the kitchen.
This was someone’s home, not a tourist attraction. I’m sure she is used to it, though. Surely I was not the first person to do
this. I was then starving, it being 1
PM, and I hadn’t had a bite to eat since my fish and chips at 6 PM last
night.
I found a place to get more fish
and chips, along with battered sausage.
I got the smallest portions possible, and I had trouble finishing it,
not having much of an appetite. I then
got back on the road, lighting up a Davidoff Escurio Toro, and putting on
Red. My first stop in Wales would be
Blaenavon Industrial Landscape, a World Heritage Site, and they even had a
World Heritage Centre (their VC). It
would be close to 4 PM by the time I got there, and the shops in Cardiff would,
I figured, close at 5 PM perhaps. It
would be very tight. The driving was
very fast, and I was soon fully used to driving on the left. I was driving 90, and people were still
tailgating me.
I hit 100 at one point,
and I was soon at the Welsh border, having lit up a Jaime Garcia for my second
cigar and switching to Disney music. The
driving conditions in Wales were the same, and I also hit 100 there at one
point. Before long, I was driving
through the beautiful landscapes of the Welsh countryside, and I knew that I
had made the right decision. By the end
of the night, I would declare Wales to be one of my favorite places in the
world, and I have hardly even seen most of it.
By this time tomorrow, I will have declared, “Wales Complete.”
The inscription photo for this site was
something the “Big Pit.” I went to the
VC first, and they told me the details.
I also got my pin there. The Big
Pit was closed, but I could still take a picture. That was all I wanted. I headed to the Big Pit, lit up a Romeo y
Julieta, and recreated the inscription photo.
I then entered the hotel into my GPS, and it would be tight to check-in
to my hotel and get to a souvenir shop, by 6 PM now, which I figured was more
realistically when shops would close on a Sunday.
I drove back through the Welsh countryside,
stopping to take pictures, and I went straight to Cardiff. There was no real parking by the hotel, and
there was no reception, either. It was a
self-check-in process. That was
annoying, but I had about five minutes before 6 PM when I got back
downstairs. Well, one problem, I was by
the bay, where Parliament was, and it turned out all the souvenir shops were in
town centre, by the castle.
NOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
NEEDED THAT FLAG PIN! I would have to be
on the road by 6 AM tomorrow, and if I had to wait until 10 AM for them to
open, that would fuck everything up. I
was told that the souvenir shops in town centre probably closed at 6 PM or
thereabouts. I took my ceremonial pictures at the National
Assembly buildings, and I headed to town centre to take my chances.
There were three shops, two were clearly
closed, and the third didn’t look like it was open, either. I parked my car and headed there. As I was approaching it, I uttered a little
prayer, “Please be open.” I walked in
front of the door, and they opened.
Right away I saw the flag pins. I
loaded up on souvenirs and went back to the car.
Successfully, I lit up a Partagas and took a
ceremonial picture in front of the castle.
I headed back to the bay and found a car park for the night. I then walked around the wharf, finishing my
cigar, and picking out a restaurant that had some traditional Welsh food. It was an Italian restaurant called Demiro’s,
but it was the only place that had Welsh specialties. Annoyingly, all the restaurants at the wharf
were different international cuisines.
That would not suffice. I finished
my cigar and dropped off my souvenirs at the hotel.
I then went to Demiro’s, and I settled in an
outdoor table with a view of the National Assembly buildings. I had to go back to my room to get my
computer bag. I was all set for the rest
of the evening. Dinner, smoke, entry,
publish, bed. I needed to wake up at 2
AM for Game of Thrones. I ordered some
Welsh favorites, cockles for my appetizer and faggots with peas and mash for my
main. I accompanied it with a Welsh gin,
since this Italian restaurant didn’t have any Welsh beers or whiskey.
The meal was delicious, the view even better,
and I enjoyed a VSG throughout the meal.
After dinner, I still wanted a Welsh beer, but none of the restaurants
had one. I was told to go the grocery
store. I paid my check and headed there,
finishing my cigar. They didn’t have
beer openers, so I had to use a metal gate to open it.
I went to Roald Dahl Plaza and found a
perfect spot, leaning back on a column, with a great view of the National
Assembly building, where I sat down, lit up my Ardor (which I have smoked in so
many great locations throughout the world, now including Cardiff, Wales), and
proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can go back to
my room and publish and get some sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment