Wandering at Wales

“Psst. Wake up Josh. It’s stopover time.”

I can see Tina’s face hovering above me. I got up, and checked at the window. We were apparently at a stopover on the M40.

Our school had organised a field trip to Wales. I was about to bail out because of the sudden schedule changes and the fact that I have to take a 2-day leave from my job, but the trio persuaded me to join with them. Besides, work made me yearn for some rest and quality time with myself.

The trip was supposed to be about 4 hours long, but according to our coordinator, it is UK law to have mandatory stopovers on a trip that will last about 3 hours or more.

I checked our location via T-Mobile 3G while alighting at the coach. Apparently, we are in a stopover near Birmingham.

We entered the stopover. The layout’s the same… There was a food court on the left, toilets down the hall, and a supermarket on the right. Oh how I miss the times where we used to eat our brekkie at the stopover on the NLEX.

There was a massive screen at the centre of the complex that summarises all the weather information and the stopover’s location. I quickly glanced at it. More snow upon the upcoming days, apparently. Great! But not so great if we were to be stranded in Wales.

Oh lovely. As expected, prices here are even more inflated than in London. The cheapest one I can find was a egg and bacon breakfast sandwich from Burger King worth £2.69.

As I went for the queue, what I saw just put a smile in my face.

There she was. A White British serving the customers.

See, White British don’t really take these menial jobs in London. There seems to be a social hierarchy in the City wherein the Whites would take the corporate jobs, the Eastern Europeans and Orientals would take the middle class jobs, and the Blacks and Indians would take the menial jobs like servers in a fast food chain.

“What a breath of fresh air,” I muttered. To tell you the truth, I kind of got sick and tired of multiculturalism. Whether it’s from the server’s point of view, or a customer’s, it’s very disheartening to see some nationalities leaving their manners at home. And I hate that. Why don’t they act like Caucasians?

And I swore to myself never to get a Black or a Muslim boyfriend.

Anyway, I was trying to assess if the people from the Midlands were also speaking in Estuary English, the compromise between Cockney (low form of British English), to RP (highest form of BE). So I tried to talk to the Burger King lady in RP.

“I’d like to have the egg and sausage butty please.”

“Just the but’y?” the BK girl replied. Oh, Estuary English. It seems that it’s becoming the norm for England nowadays.

“Yea, just the but’y. And can I have a bot’le of wa’er as well please?”

I hope that my accent worked for her. Lol.

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It was already 10PM, and Disco night was about to start.

We had a lot of events lined up for the day. As soon as we arrived in Wales, we had a sumptuous Welsh lunch (except for our classmates who have to eat halal), went out and took some pics from the cobbled streets of Newtown, then went back to our accommodation hall for dinner and did some groupwork.

Yes, groupwork. Well, it’s not really a field trip per se, it’s more of like a workshop. We had some activities regarding the lessons we’ve learned in school, and it was time for us to apply it in the real setting.

I was a bit embarrassed by the way, as I was the only one who managed to finish that sumptuous Welsh dinner comprising of a slab of salmon, chives, potatoes, and a chocolate cake. The lot were a bit full already.

After getting the 1 pint of Welsh ale from the bar, it was time to groove and dance at the disco bar.

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“Here, Josh, let me show you some dance moves.” After what might seem to be an arduous event, Gene finally had pity on me, so she decided to help.

“You dance like a duck,” Art snickered.

“Look who’s talking,” Tina jeered. Yeah, Gene and Tina were the dance maestros in our group, while Art and I, let’s just say that I don’t do this a lot, even back in Manila.

“I have to buy that Kinect, seriously,” I reacted. Gene learned her dance moves apparently from Microsoft Kinect.

After a couple more sips and a couple more songs, I started to feel a bit tipsy. Darn, that Welsh ale was stronger than I thought it was.

What I thought was disco night turned out to be a night of modern music as songs from Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Black Eyed Peas, and Usher resonated on the dance floor. The Indians were ecstatic as well when Jai Ho was played. Sheesh.

Then I saw it from my peripheral… Art was dancing like hell… well, not in a good way. He must be a bit tipsy as well.

I decided to walk towards him.

“Hey, career na career ah,” I whispered/shouted. The music’s too loud for him to hear.

“Haha! Where’s Gene and Tina?” he whispered. I shuddered though, not because of the question, but the way he asked it.

His lips were already touching my ear. His breath was warm and fuzzy. And his lips, were, um… a bit wet.

“Uh, they’re there.” I pointed towards the front. I tried to remain calm as I moved a bit farther away from him. Not that I didn’t like it (lol), but it just felt weird, coming from him.

“Come on then!” Art placed his hand on my shoulder and ushered me towards Gene and Tina. He’s not like this at all.

As the night went on, we just danced till our feet hurt. During picture taking, Art just placed his hand on my shoulder, as if we were the best of chums. It really feels weird.

“Is Art tipsy?” Gene asked me, while dancing to the tune of Bad Romance.

“Erm, I guess so… how’d you know?”

“He’s talking and blabbering in straight English, even when he’s talking to us,” she laughed. Damn that hirit. I just laughed really hard.

Since disco night was only until 12MN, we have to go back to our rooms and sleep. Call time’s early the next day.

Damn those 2 pints of Welsh ale. But then, Art was the tipsier one among us. I had to help him climb the stairs, and I had to keep on hushing him since he kept on talking.

As we entered our room, I quickly changed my clothes and brushed my teeth. I was too tired to even check my Facebook page. Art was just there staring at the window.

I looked outside as well. It was already snowing. Tomorrow, the fields will be white again.

I looked at Art. He must be amazed by the falling of white flurries.

If I were a good-for-nothing opportunity grabber, I might have taken this chance to kiss a semi-drunk guy. But no. First, I am a wuss, and second, my mind is always stronger than my heart, for some strange reason. I dunno if it’s an asset or a liability for me.

I just went back to my bed, snuggled under the duvet, and just looked at his angelic and innocent face, with his deep brown eyes staring miles away, in the hilly landscape of Wales.