Originally written 19 May 2010.
Two nights in Manchester and admittedly, I hadn’t shaken my nonchalant attitude towards traveling. Hoping the fact I’ve lived in London for six months and only so far visited other UK cities is the cause. Being a blase traveler would be really robotic, but so far I’m not really in the euphoric traveler state of mind yet. Show me something new, big and revolutionary. I’m generation Y and get bored quickly.
Unfortunately Manchester didn’t help me out in that regard. In livability terms it seems great and I probably should have settled there instead of London. For the backpacker arriving mid week in the off season, not that much to take advantage of. Or perhaps I was in a nonchalant slump and didn’t look hard enough.
Apparently Manchester is the gay capital of Europe, apparently. Apparently Canal Street is where it’s at, apparently. And I write with way too much cynicism, apparently. But yeah I was let down. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but something with more depth than a narrow lane next to a tiny canal line with clones of the Court Hotel. The shallow water level reflected the hollowness of its neighbouring venues. Rhianna blaring to an empty dance floor flooded with cheap, tacky disco balls. For the gay capital of Europe. Please. I’m generation Y and require a shred of substance and a slight variation on the gay bars I was visiting five years ago.
I write with such passive aggressiveness, but really Manchester didn’t do me any harm. I’ve ticked it off, heard some new accents, and got a little bit out of it. My mind is elsewhere however, looking forward to small remote towns, and just about everywhere in Ireland. Perhaps I’m not just over London but over all English cities.
Posted from Dublin, Dublin City, Ireland.