Manchester Day Out

For the past six days we have been in the city of Manchester, England's second largest. With absolutely no offense to London, coming here has been a bit of a relief. You can't beat London's culture and offerings, but it totally knows it and acts accordingly. Manchester is a little looser, and a little more lived-in. If London is like the fancy toy you keep in the box because your grubby little hands will ruin it, then Manchester is the well-loved teddy bear you carry with you by its ear everywhere you go. 

After watching the first day of the test match [note: I am writing about my cricket experiences at Wisden India under the title "Adventures of a Cricket Widow," which you can see at www.wisdenindia.com. They made a little banner for me and everything!! Crazy!] ] I stayed behind in our room while Subash went off to the media box, planning my next move.

I read a little tourist guide to Manchester in bed, and then packed up my bag and headed out. Manchester has an amazing tram system, which has all the convenience of a subway or tube without the claustrophobia. It's not completely inexpensive if you are on a budget (5 pounds for a day pass = ~$8 USD) but it takes you all around the entire city with trams every 12 minutes. 

Once on the tram I realized that just because I had read the tourist book didn't mean I had any idea where I was going. Manchester has a series of waterways and canals made during the Industrial Revolution (Manchester had a major cotton industry) and I knew vaguely that they were towards a part of the city called The Quays (pronounced "keys," meaning wharf) I got off the tram in a central location and boarded a different one to this area. I wasn't sure which stop would be best for seeing the canals, and eventually decided that I would get off at whichever stop everyone else did. A flawless plan!

Everyone ended up getting off at a stop called MediaCityUK, and so did I. There I found an amazing area open to the water, surrounded by incredible buildings. 

In front of a building called The Lowry there was a small market set up, with vendors selling cheese, bread, olives, and candy. I wandered around tasting the free samples, and eventually bought a chocolate-and-pear brioche to eat as I continued exploring. What is more satisfying to look at than piles of delicious looking foods!!! I could stare at them all day.

After spending some time there I decided to head back to the city center to go to the free Manchester Art Museum. By luck the tram heading back (the Picadilly Line, which also stops at St. Peter's Square) was waiting, and I hopped on with my pastry. 

The museum is right near the tram, across from the giant circular public library (supposedly its one of the oldest libraries in England, and contains a copy of the Gutenberg bible). I wandered in to the art museum and spent the rest of the afternoon exploring their collections.

One of the things that is neat about Manchester is it has a number of ongoing revitalization efforts, and it wants you to care. The museum mirrored this, with interactive exhibits and adorable "explorer" kits for kids to borrow while in the museum.

They had a collection of work from the Netherlands, which I guess is known for its incredibly fine detail where you can't even see the strokes. I don't know much about art, and it was fun to compare the differences.

My favorite thing to do when looking at paintings is look up very close. I like seeing the brushstrokes and knowing that this one moment in time, a flick of the wrist, has been captured in the paint forever.

Now that I am trying to make more art myself I am also curious to look at other people's. The skill just blows me away, and the fact that their brains can process something they see and turn it into a series of colors. I am especially impressed by drawings of glass, and other clear things. For example, look at the woman's skirt in this picture. The artist has managed to make the fabric see-through, and you can glimpse the leg underneath. Incredible.

As mentioned, the art from the Netherlands was incredibly detailed. They were mostly small, slightly larger than a piece of paper, and still it was all fit in.

After a few hours I wandered to the art museum's cafe, where I had a cappuccino and felt very worldly and cool. At 5 pm they announced the museum was closing. I headed to the library across the street, but it was closing as well. A tram to East Didsbury, the line by our house, happened to be waiting at the station, so I hopped on and headed back home.

I barely even scratched the surface of Manchester, and I hope to explore a little more in the few days we have left. I definitely want to go into the library and at least just stand in the center, surrounded by books. 

I'm glad that I ventured out to the Quays, especially since it involved multiple trams. This seems like nothing much, but to a somewhat directionally challenged person like myself it was an accomplishment. 

This morning we woke up to rain, and so are happily spending the morning tucked in, listening to the patter. After all, a good day out is always well complimented by a cozy day in. 

 

Lunch and Heritage in Manchester

I stop in to a pub called The Quadrant while Subash is off at the stadium getting his press pass. I am the only customer at the moment, and I order the "Beef and Ale Pie." This turns out to be giant--more like dinner than lunch--and comes with peas and mashed potatoes and a lot of gravy. 

The woman behind the bar calls me "luv" and "darlin" and makes me feel special. You get the feeling that if you ever had your heart broken you could go to her and have a good cry while she held you to her great aproned bosom and then gave you something hot to drink, and you would sniffle, feeling better.

She comes out to ask "how's your meal, darlin?" And then calls back to the kitchen "she says very good!" 

And it is. Outside it is gray and rainy and the food is warm and comforting. Steam floats up when I break open the meat pie and it feels like I could be in any time.

There is a feeling in America of existing without ancestors. You may know about your great-grandparents but beyond that it fades out as the newly arrived tried to belong in a whole new world, erasing the past. How can you blame them.

Somehow being here, eating comfort food under the watchful eye of this woman, I remember suddenly that my ancestors existed. Not just the more recent stepping onto a boat to take them off into the mist away from all they've ever known, but back and back. Falling in love and dying too young, giving birth and raising families, pressing calloused hands to burning foreheads, hoping this one will be spared.

All of this moving forward, sifted and kneaded into the dough, baked in a pie.