Manchester

I showed up at the Manchester Youth Hostel on Wednesday. The hostel had got really good reviews. I had booked a private room which was probably no cheaper than a hotel room. I typically have good experiences at hostels. There are often other single travellers to visit with and there are cooking facilities if you want to make a meal. When I was walking to the hostel I noticed that there was a fairly large music festival going on not very far from the hostel. When it started at 7 pm was it ever loud. When I checked into my room I noticed that there was an LRT line running on a viaduct about two stories above my window. There were also a lot of school groups staying at the hostel. This was the perfect storm for sleep deprivation I thought. I was told the music festival would end at 10:30 pm punctually. I thought that I would go for a walk to a nearby park and read my book to get away from the carnage at the hostel. St.John's park was the site of an old church and a sign read that they believed 22000 people were buried on the site. A little spooky to think that I would be enjoying myself on the resting place of that many souls. I chose a bench to sit on and started reading my book. For the first 5 minutes things went well but then pigeons started to show up. Initially as 1or 2 but then as larger groups. Before I knew it there were hundreds of pigeons surrounding me. Then the squirrels came. Several of them with big bushy tails. I really don't like pigeons and ever since I had squirrels in my attic, I have looked upon them as rats with tails. What was the universe doing to me. What had I done to merit this. Obviously they were looking for food but why me. I sat there for about ten minutes. The pigeons, the squirrels and I. I was too tired to move. I was even too tired to even worry about my risk of getting Cryptococcus neoformans from the pigeons. A type of pathogenic fungus that pigeons carry. I was just waiting for some lemurs with Echinococcus to show up. Something had to happen and it did. The pigeon lady of St. John's park showed up. This very disrumpled ancient lady entered the park with a large shopping bag. She heisitated when she saw me from across the park but realising who she must be I beckoned her over. She told me that she had been coming to the park for 30 years to feed the pigeons. She asked me to join in feeding the pigeons and pulled a five pound bag of bird seed so there I sat in the park feeding pigeons and learning all these interesting things from her. These were the healthiest pigeons that I had ever seen. These pigeons were her pets and she could distinguish them from each other. Pigeons in Manchester often only live a year but her pigeons lived on average 5 she thought. She said that she would even try to catch the sick ones and take them home with her to nurse back to health. No cages but an empty room with a linoleum floor. She was crazy in a kind pleasant way. She had been a school teacher- geography and Latin. She told me she was indebted to the Canadians as during WW2 the Canadian government had sent over hot chocolate powder. No one has ever told me that they were indebted to me. Her Uncle George had been a grain farmer outside of Regina but had returned during WW2 as Canadian soldier. He survived the war but she never saw him again. Her husband had died recently. I didn't have the heart to ask how. Pigeons are a cause of hypersensitivity pneumonitis. After feeding the pigeons, she pulled out the peanuts for the squirrels who we fed. Handfuls of peanuts. After she had a large bag of grapes for the blackbirds. We fed the blackbirds. She told me not to worry about the music as it always stopped at 10:30. Then she announced to me that she had to go and quickly left. Maybe to go off and feed some rats or other vermin. It had been all very surreal. I went back to the hostel, the music stopped at 10:30, the LRT wasn't that noisy and the children were well behaved and quiet. I had a good night's sleep. The universe had went from being out of control back into harmony all in a matter of a few hours. Why do I worry so much. Of course the incubation time for Cryptococcus meningitis is longer than a few days.

After a good night's sleep and a hearty hostel breakfast, I headed out for a Free tour of Manchester. You take the tour and pay what you want at the end. It was pretty good. We learned about the history of the city, industrialization, suffrage, unionists, the rock scene. The tour started at the Alan Turing memorial. A brilliant mathematician who helped solve the Enigma code in WW2 and build baby the first computer in Manchester after the war but was persecuted for his homosexuality and committed suicide. Sad story well depicted in the movie Imitation game, a must watch if you haven't seen it. Other highlights were the Midland Hotel where Rolls and Royce met for the first time and the Beckhams had their first date. The city hall with a cotton ball on top. The Lincoln memorial. Manchester refused to import cotton from the south during the civil war. A part of town Arnadale? Leveled by an IRA bomb in 1996? Vimto a nonalcoholic drink produced by Quakers in Manchester and now very popular in the Middle East. The tour went on for3.5 hours. I tipped Michael the guide very generously.
I was really starting to flag but I knew I had to make it to the Science and Technology museum home of the Robinson rocket which the first commercially viable steam locomotive and Baby the first computer built with Alan Turing help. Fortunately the museum was immediately beside the hostel. After a quick look around, I returned to the hostel having been on the go for 5 hours and had a well deserved nap.

It is now Friday and I'm sitting on my flight to Iceland. I successfully navigated my way to and through the airport. My holiday is pretty well done and I think this is an appropriate last blog. I had a memorable Pooh Bear adventure. I had an unrest cure. I saw some interesting things and met some interesting people. I completed my and my father's goal of a multiday hike in the UK. I am happy to be returning home. I need a rest.

At times I got a little lonely but writing the blog made me feel I was still in touch with everyone. I hope you all enjoyed it. I appreciated all the comments that people made.

Rob Czytaj więcej