Manchester: Part One

Live bands, great buskers, local pubs, and the Curry Mile

So Manchester deserved another go, and this was to be it. I boarded the train for Liverpool just before 10:00am on Friday. I was to alight at Manchester Piccadilly, the city's largest station. I was desparately trying not to fall asleep on the train, because I knew I might miss the call and end up in Liverpool.

At Piccadilly I grabbed a quick bite and then wandered around the station looking for a litter bin. I looked and looked and then finally asked a food counter employee. They said workers came around with them. I figured out later that train stations don't have bins because of... you guessed it, the threat of terrorism. This is true all over Britain, but in Manchester especially, because of the IRA bombing of 1996. Fair enough. I carried the trash out and deposited it in the first bin on the street.

My first stop, since it was just down the road, was what is now the Hacienda Apartments, site of the former Fac 51: The Hacienda. From there I headed northward into the City Centre. The architecture in Manchester is very mixed, quite a lot of contemporary and some old classics all bundled together.

Before long I was in the market areas. I passed by a busker that I could easily see going out for coffee with The Shaggs, Captain Beefheart or Jandek. Picture a fiftysomething Scot, in full Scottish garb, belly button exposed, pink and blue hair, playing (if you could call it that) a violin and singing (if you could call it that) in the most out-of-tune way imaginable. He certainly garnered some smiles from passersby. I didn't really see how much change was in his hat.

Despite the size of Manchester - having a greater metropolitan population of about two million - the City Centre is quite walkable and seems very quaint. I managed to walk most of it by 6:00pm, when I met up with neighbour Tom, who was arriving at Oxford Road Station from Nottingham. I had generally just explored without any plan. The wayfinding signage in the city is quite helpful.

When Tom arrived we hopped on a bus and headed down Oxford Road to meet up with his friends. There are basically three types of bus in Manchester. There is the Stagecoach (full-priced fare, about £1.20), the Magic Bus and Finglands (both about 60p per ride). Unfortunately we caught the Stagecoach.

I got my first glimpse of the famed Curry Mile, a long strip of curry houses, restaurants and kebab take aways. Further along we got off the bus near the Friendship pub, where Tom's friend Rob and his other Nottingham mates were awaiting our arrival. Rob was kind enough to let us stay at his place. We walked deep into a nice residential area toward his house, where we enjoyed a can of Carling before heading out to the chippy (chip shop) down the way.

Our plan was to head to the Manchester Academy to see two bands. The venue reminded me a bit of Le Rendezvous in Winnipeg. Just a big room with a bar really, but the acoustics were much better here. The first band was playing when we arrived, The Black Angels from Austin, Texas. I quite enjoyed the show. It was like a modern, tamer Velvet Underground, with a bit of Southern twang. The headliners were Akron, Ohio-based The Black Keys, a two-piece (guitarist and drummer) who had a very big sound despite their numbers. Their sound is a bit more bluesy-rock. I'd say most of us enjoyed both bands. Tom didn't seem as keen though.

After the show we caught the Magic Bus back to the Friendship for a couple pints. We sat on the patio, which was a nice cooldown from the stuffy heat of the venue. Across the street were the neon lights of the kebab shops. Much of our time at the pub was spent deciding which shop we were going to visit after the pub. Rob and the locals usually hit the one they call "posh" Abdul's, not to be confused with the less posh Abdul's two doors down. Incidentally both Abdul's are owned by the same Abdul, who also has several shops down the Curry Mile and elsewhere in Greater Manchester.

In the end we settled for posh Abdul's and I must say it was a good choice. I had a Tandoori chicken and chips. Others had curries and pizzas. We headed back to the house to settle in. I was witness to not one, but two conversations about... tea. I laughed visibly at how incredibly English it all was. A bunch of twentysomethings full of beer talking about tea. Apparently these guys have tea conversations a lot. How many sugars, how much milk, squeeze the bag or not, etc. etc. At the end of the night I curled up on the leather couch and had a semi-comfortable sleep.

More on Manchester soon.

Cheers.

My Two Birthdays

One score and six years ago...

Well my birthday has come and gone, and I managed to milk two birthdays on a technicality. I was born at 10:15pm on 12 February, which is 4:15am on 13 February (Greenwich Mean Time) in England. So if one's birthday is the 24-hour period beginning from the time of one's birth then my European birthday is the 13th. In any case I worked on both days so it was really just for a laugh.

Unfortunately there aren't many exciting bits of news to relay at the moment. I've been working a lot, trying to save up for the big European trek in April and May. My brother Darryl, will arrive in late April attached to a backpack, and thus will begin the adventure. I've decided to stay on at work until late March in order to attempt to save up some cash.

This coming weekend I will be giving Manchester another go. I'll be meeting up with co-worker/neighbour Tom and exploring the city for a couple of days. I believe there is a proper Manchester gig featuring a Stone Roses-esque band or two, and some cheap students nights out with Tom's brother, Alex, and his fellow students of architecture.

Last night was another zombie night, the monthly deep cleaning of the kitchen. We managed to finish up around 2:30am, mostly because of pressure from the manager. I somehow managed to elude December and January's zombies, so I guess I was due for one.

That's all for now. More after Manchester.

Cheers.

London Photos Now Online

Photos from my trip to London are now in my Working Holiday album. Enjoy.

An Evening Amidst The Mancs

"The beatification of the beat. The dance age. This is the moment when even the white man starts dancing. Welcome to Manchester." - Tony Wilson

Since the restaurant industry can't stop for a second during the busy weeks leading up to Christmas, the staff Christmas party is postponed until late January. This year, as is apparently the annual tradition, the party was in Manchester. Living Ventures, the company that owns and operates the restaurant and all of its sibling units across the UK, hosted the party at a city centre club. Free food, free drinks, and a coach to and from Manchester.

The party was "fancy dress" so we had to dress up as an actor, actress, or character from a movie or television. I decided (a moan from those who've seen my work) to reprise my role as Duke Raoul (AKA Dr. Hunter S. Thompson), as played by Johnny Depp in Terry Gilliam's classic adaptation of Thompson's novel, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. The costume is rather easy to gather: flowery button-up shirt, shorts, fishing hat, big sunglasses, and the key to the character, the cigarette holder. I managed to only spend about £10 on the lot. The sunglasses I borrowed from a co-worker. It seems, oddly enough, that sunglasses are a seasonal thing here. At one place the reply I got when I asked if they had sunglasses was, "Not yet." Seems strange coming from a place where it's actually brighter in the winter than the summer.

The coach was luxury. I've never ridden on a bus like that. It must have cost our manager a fortune. I know he was none too pleased that the final count on attendees was a measly eight. The back of the bus was a lounge area that seated about five, with a little table in the middle.

When we got to the city there was a queue of all kinds of characters waiting to get in. I spotted another Thompson. No surprise really. That happened last Hallowe'en too. As time went by I met more and more of us. At final count there were no fewer than five Hunter Thompsons about, in various forms. The best one was the Las Vegas visor Duke, complete with flyswatter.

There were a lot of Ali G's about. I think they must sell the yellow track suit in stores here, or some kind of Ali-G-in-a-bag type thing. I was surprised to see a Richie Tenenbaum, recalling my architecture days when a group of us played the whole family. I also met two William Wallaces (both of whom were actually Scottish). Most of the costumes, however, weren't recognisable. I think a lot just put on some combination of strange things to look like something. Two of the guys in our group went as extras in TV shows. Of course they had specific titles though (e.g. Bystander number two in The Bill.)

The food wasn't the feast I was expecting. There were some nachos and salsa, spring rolls, some sort of deep fried ball of something, and various other hors d'oeuvres. Also, the mixed drinks were contained in a tub at the bar table. If you wanted a drink, you just dip your cup in the tub. I was appalled that a function put on by a restaurant would condone such an unhygienic practice as this. But enough of the complaints. It's supposed to be a party in the city that invented parties like this.

At around 12:00 the lights came up and groups started gathering outside for their rides. It turns out these "24-hour party people" are like all other British institutions. Early to bed early to rise I guess. That is one thing that I have found to be true here in Britain. Even in places like London and Manchester, things close up early. When I lived in Winnipeg there were three 24-hour places across the street or kiddy-corner to the apartment. Here you have to find a gas station if you want something late at night. I'm reminded of an 80s British spoof group called Morris Minor & the Majors who did a song called Stutter Rap, where they parodied the Beastie Boys' No Sleep 'til Brooklyn. At one part in the video they are having tea, tucked into bed discussing how late people stay up in America. The gag now makes perfect sense.

After a stop at a petrol station for some crisps, sandwiches and other overpriced snacks, we hit the road for Notts. The two-hour bus ride back to Nottingham was rather quiet as the entire bus fell asleep within the half-hour.

So I didn't get as good a look at Manchester as it deserves. I will hopefully be able to take a trip back there and give it a proper visit. For now, back to work in the kitchen. With just over a month left to work I'm starting to get the hang of things there, but I must admit it will be a relief to leave there, and enter the world of willfull unemployment; scrimping and saving.

Cheers.