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Welcome to Fernweh, a blog concerning the (mis)adventures of one Fulbrighter during a year spent in Europe teaching English.
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Saturday, August 21, 2010

Manchester.

Hello again. In case you forgot, we just got off the train in Hale, which is in Altrincham, which is near Manchester, which is in northern England. Got it?

Now, because I'm writing this much after the fact and I'd like to get caught up quickly so I can keep pace, I'm going to make this slightly truncated. This is also because, compared to my usual sightseeing pace, the next four days were very relaxing.

I met Elizabeth on the platform, and she kindly drove back to her house, just a few minutes away. We had wine out on her patio and chatted about what I'd been doing that summer; after dinner, we watched telly together before I headed to bed.

See? I told you this would be quick...

Next morning, Elizabeth--oh, wait, I should explain.

When my ex-roommate Shannon was looking for a place to stay in Vancouver, BC, last spring, she invited me to come with her and we made a day of it. One of the prospective places we looked at was in the attic of a nice English woman named Maggie, who was very eager to offer advice when she heard that both Shannon and I were going to England in the summer. She also happened to mention that her mother lives in Manchester and offered to ask her if she'd be willing to host me while I was traveling. Through Maggie, I got in touch with her mother, Elizabeth, who very generously took me in.

Elizabeth is an absolutely delightful 87-year-old lady who lives on her own in a frankly enormous (for one person) house in the quiet town of Hale. Besides being very fun to talk to, Elizabeth is fiercely independent. She still very competently drives a manual car, and she has a hydrolic crane in the back of her car to load her electric scooter. Her two-story house has one of those stair chair lift thingies, but she can still do the stairs quite easily. She absolutely refused to let me help with anything--cooking, cleaning, parking, whatever. Really, though, it was great to be mothered and taken care of for a few days!

Anyway, the next morning Elizabeth woke me with a cup of tea and we went off to the nearby town of Stockport. Stockport had two attractions for us that day: the hat museum (no, seriously) and the WWII bomb shelter tunnels. In the hat museum, I learned more than I'll ever remember about the process of making felt and hats, although it was rather fun to look at the museum's collection of all the straight-up ridiculous things that some people have actually had the audacity to wear on their heads in public. Naturally, they had some extras for the kids me to try on as well.

We stopped in a M&S for lunch and then went to the tunnels. These tunnels had been excavated out of the sandstone beginning in 1938 in preparation for the war brewing on the horizon. The atmosphere in there reminded me of the Cabinet War Rooms in London--anxiety and fear are still thick in the dank, cool air and the long shadows cast by dim lights. Brush your hand against the reddish-orange walls, look at the sand on your fingertips, and wonder who's stood in this same spot in the darkness with dirt on their hands, hearing the thundrous booms in the distance and trembling.

Anyway. We headed home and Elizabeth made dinner (of course) and we watched telly together for a while. This kind of became the tradition.

The next day, Elizabeth took me in the morning to an exhibit on the Bible, run by the local chapter of some or another Christian Brotherhood that I've never heard of. A few of the manuscripts were genuinely old and interesting, but many were replicas. Also, one of the attendants tried to convert me.

After the exhibit, Elizabeth was going to a birthday party for a friend, so I got on the tram and went to Manchester. Of course, in Hale it was sunny and clear, but by the time I arrived in Manchester, it was pouring. I wandered around in the rain for a bit looking for the Central Library, only to find that it was closed, so I headed to the Rylands Library instead.

The Rylands Library was build in memory of John Rylands by his wife, and is, for lack of a better phrase, frikken gorgeous. Built in the decorative style of a Gothic cathedral and packed to the gills with gorgeous books, I can hardly imagine a more wonderful place. I wandered through an exhibit on Elizabeth Gaskell, a local writer, and spent a long time wandering up and down the main reading room. The collection is open to anyone who wants to use it as long as they register beforehand, so the long, vaulted hall is lined on both sides by alcoves with tables for study. To top all this amazingness off with a cherry of squee, in the middle of it all were display cases featuring a bookbinding exhibition. I stayed there for a while, staring at the exquisitely crafted little books and watching the fitful sunlight try to fight its way in to light the gilding on the shelved books.

By the time I tore myself away, it was downpouring again. I toyed with the idea of slogging through the rain to the cathedral but decided it simply wasn't worth it and got dinner at Greggs instead. As I was taking shelter from the rain and eating my pasty, I was joined by a homeless guy named Dave. To my wary surprise, we had a very nice chat, and he didn't ask me for money once and instead told me about Jesus. It was really quite sweet.

Having run out of options, I took the train back to Altrincham and walked back to Elizabeth's house, where it was, of course, a beautifully sunny afternoon. Shortly after I got back, Elizabeth suggested that we go out for dinner, so we drove down the road to a nearby pub for some proper pub food! Then of course, wine, telly, and bed.

I'm sorry, but I honestly don't remember what we did the morning of the 13th. I think we went to the library so I could check my e-mail, and maybe that was it. Anyway. After that, we went to visit Tatton, the grounds and mansion of a local lord whose name I've forgotten. (You have Google. Look it up.) We took a tour through the sumptuous interior, and I'd've liked to have stayed longer, but we did head back after that. And I know this is awful, but I don't remember what happened after that, either. I think I spent the afternoon repacking my luggage and watching telly with Elizabeth.

The next morning, Elizabeth woke me up with a cup of tea as usual, made me breakfast as usual, and took me train station. We said a quick goodbye, then she was off to go see a piano recital in Leeds. What an absolutely fabulous lady!

I got on the train and was once again on my own. Next stop: York.

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