Quays to the World

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Museums are free of charge in England. Not only that, but they're everywhere, even up north, where people have a reputation for being only interested in football and drinking lager. I suppose this is an accurate reputation, much in the same vein as the reputation for Oregonians to be only interested in riding bicycles and wearing flannel.



I don't own any flannel, and I don't know anybody my age who does, so I guess that categorization has fallen by the wayside. In England, there are indeed groups up here who don't care for football. They are called "rugby supporters". Failing that, "bitter old hags". Still, Salford and Manchester are diverse, modern areas with a great transportation system and helpful people throughout. It is just like any other big metropolis with a relatively recent influx of cash and successful companies moving on in. This is a city where Manchester United is only the city's second-richest football club; Manchester City will be overtaken by a rich group of Arabs from (where else) Dubai - in exactly five days. This is HUGE news here, and causes some to weep in public, or just talk very, very excitedly.

And despite what people have been telling me, I have had no rough experiences; not even close. Maybe it's because I am English and I look like them and I am always carrying around a copy of the Manchester Evening News, but when I see young kids running around with no supervision and riding their bikes down main streets and playing footie out in the open, that to me strikes me as a relatively safe place to come and visit, at least. Walking along the Manchester ship canal, you see warmth in people's faces and genuine goodness along the muddy banks. There is a certain understated romance about the place that is reflective of the English resolve; we can point to the Quays and say, with all honesty, Look At Us Now, before remembering that deep down, this doesn't surprise us in the least bit.



The Manchester Ship Canal is a little navigation channel that flows all throughout the city, underneath the many small bridges and behind the brick row houses and the causeways. Its nexus is the Salford Quays, an area that has inconceivably become modernized beyond belief, with the Northern Imperial War Museum as its crown jewel. After walking through the Lowry, an art gallery worthy of worldwide recognition, it's on to the War Museum, where I spend four hours and barely scratch the surface. I figure it's just as well, because it gives me a reason to come back during my next visit.



Hey - did I mention it was free?



One other thing about the War Museum that I appreciate is that it is firmly against war of any kind. Plus, it's an equal opportunity accuser: it demonstrates atrocities committed by the Germans, the English, the Americans, and the Arabs alike. Manchester is the City of Peace, by the way, and the city council's stated goal, plastered all over town hall, is a commitment to helping rid the world of nuclear weapons - and a wonderful tongue-in-cheek testament to this ethos is seen plastered on a plain blank wall at the Museum, and you see it as you snap your jacket back up and brace for the cold outside. It's a quote from Harry S Truman, remarking on the events of the 6th of August, 1945; a day, which, according to Truman, was "quite possibly the greatest day in history".



Truman, at least among those who are somewhat educated and have a nose for history, has a well-deserved reputation as one of the most inhumane murderers the world have ever seen; a man who hid behind pathetic cliches and whined about having his feelings hurt after he was criticized for the decision to drop the bomb. A warmonger who deserved the same fate as Mussolini, Truman's portrait and quote appears between Stalin and Ronald Reagan, who aren't exactly empathetic figures here in the Imperial War Museum smack dab in the centre of the City of Peace. Funny thing is, the last museum I went to was the Atomic Testing Museum in Las Vegas, Nevada, a museum brought to you by our generous sponsors and all-around good guys McDonnell Douglas. This is not English cheekiness; rather, there are framed pictures on the wall of different atomic blasts, and you can pick out your favourites by name.

I liked Christine. She was big and thick.



Another day in Salford was coming to an end. It was time to head back for a meal with the family, and I had to make my way back on the tram. I walked past the Quays on the way back to the station, along the water and watching the swans float around aimlessly. A old small man comes up to me and asks me where the tram station is.

"Are you headed into Manchester or towards Eccles?"

"Manchester. City Centre." He looks slightly confused. "You know, this is my first time here!"

Follow me, says I. "And don't worry. You'll catch on quick."

TJH