I have never been to an Eisteddfod before. I never even knew about its existence before I moved to Newport. So, having lived in Wales for six years, I thought it was time to take advantage of the close proximity of 'Welsh culture' on offer. I took my first trip to the Maes in Tredegar Park on Monday 2 August.
The first thing that struck me was how friendly and easy going the festival was. I had feared all kinds of snobbery, but none of it was forthcoming. People seemed grateful that you could offer up the pathetic "I'm sorry I don't speak Welsh, can we speak in English?" catchphrase. Heartened by this relaxed response to my linguistic deficiency, I happily made my way round the Maes.
The highlight of my ambling was to savour a deliciously cooked Welsh beef steak. Having frequented many a festival in my time, and many an unsavoury, overpriced pile of mush, my taste buds were in a state of disbelieving ecstasy.
And so on to the Gorsedd ceremony. I came upon this by chance, with no real understanding of what was in store. Having wondered into the sweltering pavilion and realised that something big was about to happen - I took my pew and joined the expectant audience frantically waving bits of paper in an effort to keep their temperatures from soaring. Fortunately I had picked up the translation equipment, and was impressed with the running commentary which detailed what was about to happen.
The lights dimmed, the paper-waving eased up, and the procession started. I had never seen anything quite like it. Robed men and women parading down the central aisle, girls in green dresses and bouquets - I felt transported into another world and bygone era.
As the ceremony continued, the feelings that grew within me were mixed. I was touched by the fact that the crowning ceremony was to honour home-grown creative talent. How much this is overlooked in a world dominated by profit and money.
I stood there in awe as the audience sang with such passion their national anthem. I come from the dreaded neighbouring country of England, and such patriotism is rare to behold. Perhaps it is the fact that we English are such a mixed and complicated mesh of bloodlines and ancestry that we don't have the same sense of being rooted in the particular patch of land that we were born on.
For me, national pride is an alien concept that I find hard to get my head round. So whilst I stood there in awe, I could not help but feel somewhat uncomfortable. The ceremony had a feeling of exclusivity. I felt that I shouldn't have been there watching what appeared to be a clan-like ritual. I wasn't a member of the club - I had simply slipped through the net.
This 'slice of Wales' was far removed from the country I had grown to know. I could not relate any of it to the complicated mix of people I had come to know who lived down the road from the site. Where were they? What did this mean to them? Am I missing the point or do I have a point?
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kirsty powell
well i thought it was very good
Chris Davies from Monmouth
I've never been to an Eisteddfod, and would like to enter the singing side of things. I'm Welsh, but don't speak the language - anyone got any tips?
John from Cardiff
I am a Scotsman living in Wales and have been learning Welsh for two years. I totally agree with Yvette's positive comments about the wonderful way that the Eisteddfod celebrates and honours the talents of the people of Wales - but I find it difficult to understand her problem with understanding the concept of national pride.The English have in recent years have shown more and more of it in support of their football team, and we have seen unprecedented waving of the St George's Cross, as well as the fervent flag waving we see at the Last Night of the Proms, both in the Royal Albert Hall and in fields throughout the summer all over England.
I must also disagree with her theory that the English are more of a mix of "bloodlines and ancestry" - all of us in the British Isles are genetically very mixed, the Welsh being no different (I have come across many Welsh-speaking people with surnames from outside of Wales).
I certainly don't feel any exclusivity in the Pavilion at the Eisteddfod, and I feel sure that if Yvette were to learn a little of the Welsh language she too would feel less excluded and possibly more enriched by it, although I would still maintain that by providing translation equipment the Eisteddfod organisers are going out of their way to welcome non-Welsh-Speakers.
Jen Llywelyn from Ystumtuen, Ceredigion
I felt the same, Yvette, in 2001 when I went to my first Eisteddfod in Dinbych. Excluded - but not by the people, by my lack of Cymraeg. Then, in 2002 in Tyddewi, I felt excluded by my not-very-good Cymraeg. Last year I helped on a stand and spoke quite a lot of Cymraeg. And this year, yesterday, I was on the Maes all day and spoke very little English! Learn Cymraeg! It IS possible! Don't give up, don't let anything stop you. And come to the Eisteddfod next year, make the journey up north (just as many of us have made the journey down south), and you will begin to understand and enjoy more and more! I've learned enough in two years to thoroughly enjoy the Eisteddfod, and many other aspects of Welsh life - come on in, the water's lovely!
Lisa Whatley, Newport
Yvette - my daughter was in the Gorsedd ceremony - one of the flower maidens. We are both non Welsh speaking but my daughter loved every minute of it. It made both of us want to learn Welsh to feel more a part of this fantastic Welsh culture (I am Welsh). I can understand your mixed feelings as I too felt a little in awe of the ceremony especially as in a frenzy of flower arranging and calming an excited 11 year old I forgot to pick up the translator. I would encourage anyone to visit on Friday for the chairing ceremony - it is a marvellous spectacle to watch.
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