Liverpool & Manchester # 2

Read #1 here

In the early morning I, and the rest of the room, were awakened by my some Asian roommate, who decided to repack all of his bags very thoroughly, during the course of one hour. Now that, was really annoying.

Around 10 I check out at the Hatters Hostel and make my way to Liverpool Lime Street Station. After a 45 minute train trip, I arrive at Manchester Picadilly Station. I try to find my way to the Hatters Hostel, through this – apparently – busier city. It also appears to be larger and more vibrant than Liverpool. Just as I have the feeling I’m starting to get lost, I find out I’m actually on the correct street. I make my way to the hostel, which seems to be housed in an even more worn down building than the one in Liverpool, like some sort of squat. I am greeted by a nice bearded Mancunian who informs me the room will be ready in 2 hours. He asks me what I want to visit, I say I’d like to visit some museums and maybe some of the Smiths landmarks. He then prints a guide and has trouble stapling the papers together, eventually half destroying my ‘the Smiths guide to Manchester’–guide. Then I’m off to explore Manchester a bit, as I can't go to my room yet.

My first impressions were that Manchester looks a bit like Rotterdam (or maybe any other big Dutch city, but I’m most familiar with Rotterdam), most likely because of the public transport system: trams. Hadn’t seen that before in England. Again, this probably proves that Manchester is larger than Liverpool.
There are more people out and about in the commercial area that is Manchester Picadilly. The people still seem very (working class) British, some chavvy and orange faced as well. Yet, Manchester also seems more racially diverse than Liverpool.

After some wandering around, I decide it’s time to check out my room. ‘You’re back’, bearded Macunian receptionist notes. I was slightly disappointed to find out I was on the second floor, ‘the Badly Drawn Boy + The Charlatans floor’, rather than on the first floor ‘the Morrissey floor’.
I am in a 10-bed female dorm this time, you can’t choose your own bed and the bathroom/toilets are not connected to the room.
After ‘settling’ in the room and making a vague plan of what I wanted to see/do, I decided to go out again, armed with my camera this time. I made my way to the Northern Quarter, which, I had read, was supposed to be a trendy hipster area for young people. It all seemed deserted, worn down buildings and dodgy people. Found a few nice second hand shops, though. I wanted to find ‘Big Pink Records’, which was supposed to be a cool recordshop, but it seemed to have disappeared. One stop on the The Smiths guide, some Moz mosaic wall near Afflecks Place, seemed to be invisible as well. Nosed around in a vinyl recordshop, and thought about giving trying to find the Kraak Gallery another go. I did and found some signs with arrows, but they led me to deserted alleyways, so I gave up.
I went back to the centre and wandered up north, browsing through interesting looking shops.
Next stop is the Urbis Art Centre, which, sth I already feared, was closed for business. After walking around the Manchester Cathedral I decide it’s pubtime, after all, today is Saint Patrick’s Day. I go to the Printworks, a large covered restaurant area. I eat fish & chips and drink a Guinness and then move on to another pub in different part of town.

I end up getting free Guinness from Norwegian guys, who invite me to sit at their table; I join them, not being sure what their intentions are, as one of them is extremely drunk. They also give me 10 pounds, because ‘you’re a student, we work’, something I reluctantly accept after they insist on me taking it and trying to shove it in my pocket. After a while, the drunk guy starts making clear that he is attracted to me, and the others agree when he states that I am beautiful. To me, all of them look post-mid-thirties, even though the drunk one says he’s 25, and I’m not interested anyway, so I politely try to make clear that I’m not impressed. I get a bunch of phone numbers ‘for going out tomorrow’ and one of them gives me a half kiss on the mouth before he leaves….. Shouldn’t have accepted that Guinness.

After a good sleep that night (beer makes me fall asleep instantly. And pee as well, as I wake up with a full blatter 3 hours later), a shower and some of the 24 hour-breakfast (consisting of toast and… toast) I go into town again. First stop is the Manchester Art Gallery, where some interesting art work is to be seen. Of course the Gallery is suddenly occupied by retards, children on school trips and art students on excursion; instant headache material.

Next stop is the Cornerhouse, an arts centre with a café, cinema, bookstore and a small art gallery. The Art Gallery features an exhibition with David Mackintosh work, but I wasn’t very impressed by it.
After a coffee I go on my way to try to find the Salford Lads Club. I walk past the Ritz, where the Smiths played their first live show. After a long search, interrupted by a visit to a Science Museum, I was very close, I could feel it, but somehow I couldn’t exactly find it.... I ended up on some weird industry area next to busy motorway. At this point I was also incredibly tired and hungry. Adding the shite weather: I got frustrated and started walking back to the centre.
I visited the People’s History Museum, a great museum featuring a display of pictures of protesters being arrested during demonstrations and they had a lot of old political campaign material etc. Afterwards I went to the John Ryland Library. The interior is strange compared to the exterior of the building, it’s a very modern building housing a very old library, the interior of the library itself reminds me of Oxford, and the buildings there.

Afterwards I go back to the hostel, and lie down on the bed for a while and have my Sainsbury’s pasta dinner. Then I started a conversation with the roommate who had been in the room the whole time since I came back. She turned out to be an Italian girl living in Glasgow and she was following her favourite band around the country, apparently she was some superfan who was in love with the singer blah blah. Expensive hobby… well, definitely more expensive than my concert-hobby, I don’t have to stay in a hostel every night and take trains all over England.
I go to some bars at Matthew Street, have a chat with some bartender and am soon bored with sitting on my own in pubs, resulting into me going back to the hostel and falling asleep again.

The next morning I have to check out at 10, but my train leaves at about 3, so in order to kill time I go shopping a bit more. I go inside Afflecks Place, which is basically like the Brick Lane Sunday Vintage Market, but still amazing, great building, like a maze where can get lost between the alternative and vintage shops. I find some more great shops, which I hadn’t found on the days before, among them another record store, vintage clothes stores and a camera shop.

On the way back to London on the train, I felt a sense happiness dawning on me, just having had nice adventure on my own, and then sitting on that train, watching the foggy British countryside which reminded me off the Adolphe Valette paintings I had seen the day before at the Manchester Art Gallery pass by, while reading ’31 Songs’ by Nick Hornby and listening to music. It was just one of those moments of pure happiness, having a feeling of complete contentment and satisfaction.

So, all in all I like both cities, they have a lot in common, but are also quite different. They seem great places to live, though I slightly prefer Manchester, and still, both are not as vibrant and fascinating as London. But I guess that’s just from the perspective of a Londoner.
If you ever find yourself in Manchester; I highly recommend the Manchester Art Gallery, Afflecks Place and the People’s History Museum and for Liverpool are the Albert Dock and Tate Liverpool must sees.