a mancunian saturday

After such a busy schedule over these past few months, I looked forward to a planned day trip to Manchester last Saturday with my lovely chum, Anu. Since we are both taking gap years, we plan these type of outings, to maintain whatever is left of our remaining sanity. And so far, everywhere that we have been together, has been remarkable.  

Generally-speaking, whenever I go somewhere new, the place is never what I expect it to be, and it's always in the good sense of things. Manchester did not disappoint in any way.

We started the day very early, with a 6.11am departure from Coventry Station. How on earth I was able to wake up at 4 and put a full face of makeup on, I don't know, but we made it on time, on the right platform, waiting for the right train; that was all that mattered then.

There's something about travelling to a new city by train that always makes my memories of that day bring more romanticism and sense of nostalgia: the landscape that emerged from the fog, the passing 'paper towns', the feeling of possibility and the thought of other routine lives being led, witnessing the sunrise. All these things have been ingrained in my memory. 

 MANCHESTER PICCADILLY STATION.

After spending two hours travelling by train, we came to our final stop at the beauty that is, Piccadilly Station. Seeing the sun break through the glass structure was such a sight to see, and definitely made waking up early, worth it. Our first point of call, was to head to the Northern Quarter; populated by Manchester's finest hipsters, coffee shops, indie brands, and just very cool things. 

NORTHERN QUARTER. 

                    

We soon realised that we were there too early, as most shops opened at 10am, but we still knew how to kill time; Primark. I feel like it's just a compulsory guilty shop, that helps being affordable. As much as I love the idea of investing in independent brands, I'm saving my money like I'm going to be bankrupt tomorrow, so I strayed from those independent prices. 

Eventually, we made our way to Chinatown, only to realise that most of it was blocked off with police warning tape. Not dodgy at all. We swiftly walked on to visit the Manchester Art Gallery, that had displays on the 17th century to Victorian, to contemporary, to an exhibition on fashion; there was so much to look at. Making the effort to go to galleries, reminds me how much that I need to go back to art, and make the effort to be interested in it again. 

JOHN RYLANDS LIBRARY.

  

  

Being avid (though now, more so lazy) readers, we next headed to John Rylands Library. Can you tell we were tourists at all? Each room we stepped in, was lit (could end the sentence here), either by daylight through tall, symmetrical windows, or beautiful, classy hanging lamps. I wondered how anyone could actually study in a place like this, when there's so much you could be distracted by. 

Going to these places involved a lot of walking that for some reason, my mind hadn't grasped, so the new boots I had decided to break in, were actually breaking me. Stupidly, I hadn't said anything to Anu before, because I didn't want to stop our momentum or admit to making a shit decision, but I did cave in, and we both found ourselves back in Primark, in the rush hour chaos, with me buying flats that felt they were heaven-sent to my feet. 

As sunset was near approaching, it was our last chance to visit some more tourist hotspots: People's History Museum and the Museum of Science & Industry. Like galleries, I feel going to museums are as important; actually actively seeking information that you can learn from is so important in itself and this was really something that we brought home with us. It is very easy to be absorbed in your own bubble sometimes, and neglect everything outside of it. It is easy to be ignorant. 

After immersing ourselves in a bit of Mancunian history, we wandered around the Christmas Markets, that seemed the sole centre of Manchester that day. We indulged on hot chocolates, and nibbled on cinnamon biscuits, and observed all the faces lit by the holiday glow, or maybe just the fairy lights.

At the end of our venture, we found ourselves back in the Northern Quarter, and ended up in a bar called Lost in Tokyo. I was already won over by the name, because of how much wanderlust I have for Japan. 

For the first time that day, we were still. Slightly ironic though because we were in a bar.  

LOST IN TOKYO.

Before we knew it, after delayed, drunk trains we were shortly back in Coventry,
back to reality.