Thursday, July 14, 2005
Christopher’s Manchester Weblog - Summer 2005 - Days 11, 12, and 13 - Buses, noise and communion
More on my summer in Manchester
Since it was a holiday weekend where you all are at (definitely not here, trust me, other than “Good Riddance to bad Colonies” day), I thought I would combine the last few days into one message.
Friday
Having several sets of errands to work through, I decided to make Friday a day to get out and about. I haven’t traveled much in Manchester via the bus this time, so today was the day. And what a day for the bus.
First to downtown to check on a few items. The ride down was uneventful, but I was fortunate enough to come downtown on an arts day. So all along one boulevard of the walking mall there were all these artists setup to sell their latest “masterpieces.”
Now, I am no art critic (well, we all are…but you know what I mean) but all I can tell you is that I think the critics of postmodernism are correct. They say that when a culture loses the concept of truth that buetey has to follow. Based on the artwork on display Friday, their case has been proven. I mean my gosh, I wouldn’t even give this artwork to my worst enemies, or even to Dallas Seminary (an inside seminary joke for those interested). Hideous? Not quite the right word. Pedistrian? No, that is too soft. Lets just use the ancient Latin word – Bleech! I mean, Alethea with her paints does better work. And, strangest of all, people were buying this stuff. The thought occurred to me that if I had been smart, I would have packed a few of A.N. Morton’s finest in my bag and I probably could have made a small fortune on Friday.
Then I walked down another part of downtown where musicians are always setup. I stopped and listened to a few of the orchestral artists (quite good, but the U. of Manchester has a good music program) and then turned onto one of the main streets. There, in one of the primo spots (he must have gotten up early for that one) was a man playing a guitar. He had a very nice guitar, nice sound system, and a bucket in place for contributions.
You know how you hear a song and know there is something just a bit off in it? Well, I had to stop and listen to this guy because that was what was happening. Something was just a bit off with him. I listened for about three minutes and then it hit me. The song he was playing (“I just called, to say, I love you” was being played to an complainant tape. No problem there, but I noticed his hands on the guitar. He was playing, for all he was worth, but…HE ONLY KNEW TWO CORDS!!!! No really, he was sitting in the midst of real musicians, getting people to drop in money, and he only knew two cords (which, granted, is one more than me). I listened to his next song. Yep, only two cords. I don’t know whether that is chutzpah or just being really proud of what he learned. I had to laugh all the way back to the bus. Though, since he already had about 20 pounds of contributions, maybe it was he who was laughing. I suspect the money was intended for music lessons J
Now, I still had to make sure I reserved my copy of the latest Harry Potter book (coming 7.16) and the only store that I knew was going to be open after midnight on the night of the 15th to pick them up was…alas…Borders. So, that meant my first ever trek to the Trafford Center, which is a new mall that opened up in 2003. So, I got on the 250 bus and started to wend my way over in that direction.
The first thing I noticed though as I loaded onto the bus, was that the ethnic makeup of the people on the bus was quite different than any I had been on before. It was all immigrants. Hmmm, wonder why that is?
The reason became clear as we made our way to the mall. Manchester (as I found to be true of London) is a very segregated city. All of the African immigrants live over here. All the Asians there, all the Arabs here, and the Pakistanis over there. So, this bus goes through the African sections of town. Sure enough, the bus started to unload, in some of the poorest sections of Manchester. I had heard that the UK didn’t have the problem with ethnic segregation that the States does…but I am beginning to doubt it.
Finally we arrived….at what can only be called a UK transplant of Park Meadows Mall from Denver. I mean it was an American monstrosity, including many of your favourite American stores – The Gap (baby, kids, women’s and men’s), Borders, Pizza Hut, etc. It made me sick to be honest. Of course there were some distinctly UK stores, like the giant football store (going out of business I might add), and of course the Fish-n-Chips restaurant in the food court, plus the large bus barn for incoming busses from throughout Manchester. But really, it was like being back in the parts of the States I avoid at all hazards.
I did have lunch there, at Nandos, the little spicy chicken (or in my case, bean burger) restaurant. I was given a seat that looked out on the food court. There I did a little people watching. The gangs of teen boys. The gaggle of young Muslim men. The women covered head to toe in her burqua, but underneath I could see her nice $90 Nike’s. And of course, what would a mall be without teenage girls (hence the teenage boys). Tons of them (despite the fact that school is still in session for many) all dressed in their trashiest best. It created this slight geographical anomolly – American style mall with British food court, Arab and Pakistani women completely covered next to British girls who had to few clothes on to be Victoria Secret maniquens, Arab men dressed very nicely (speaking no English) passing British men and boys who spoke some dialect that was completely unrecognizable. Very interesting experience. I would say that I would never step foot in the place again except I have to at 12:01 on the 16th to get my Harry Potters.
The real fun began on the ride back though. Got on the 23 bus to head back to Didsbury, and the bus was about half full. About two miles down the road we passed a middle school (couldn’t tell if it was public or private) where we were invaded! I kid you not, on a bus that could seat maybe 40 people, about 60 young teens, who by the sounds of it had just had their last day of classes, bounded onto the bus at the same time. Cacophony is not the right word. The bus exploded in noise. These were the loudest creatures on the face of the earth. And they were talking about nothing. To be fair, only about 25% of them were swearing in a nice stream of sailor talk, but all of them were jabboring at top volume and top speed. You could see, and here I am not kidding, every adult passenger kind of try to squinch up to the windows in hopes that they might be saved from the crush and the noise. As for me, I just started cracking up. It was simply the most amazing thing I had ever seen. They weren’t just loud, they were active, passing each other (they were mostly standing) back and forth somehow in line, bouncing up and down, and all together making a complete zoo of the ride back to Didsbury.
At another stop, right by anther school, some additional kids got on, and the bus was treated to one of the student at the bus stop vandalizing a sign. In broad daylight. In front of a bus full of adults. And they say they don’t have a discipline issue here in the UK.
Well, slowly these kids started to pop off the bus. Apparently here they do not teach the kids to NEVER RUN IN FRONT OF THE BUS, because they all do. Of course this does wonders for the motion of the bus, as we started bouncing back and forth, like some sort of low-rider bus in a sound-off contest. It occurs to me that they do not pay these drivers near enough money.
Finally I get off myself. After that experience I need a nap…or lets just make it bedtime.
Saturday
I was supposed to go to the G8-Make Poverty History protest in Edinburgh today. That would have meant a bus trip of 4+ hours each way and a start time of 5:30am. Alas, my illness that I was hit with in Colorado had gotten worse, so intelligence being the better part of valour (okay, Tanya suggested I don’t go), I stayed home. Which was good, because other than a short hike to Tesco to buy some food, I was in bed until 5pm. Not that I felt any better afterwards. Followed this by a few hours under my favourite trees on the sports green here at NTC where I spent some lovely time going through the abstracts for 500 articles and books that I pulled from the Association of Theological Librarians Abstracts (ATLA) database. Searching out those secondary sources to substantiate what I am saying in my thesis. Strange though, there really is very little written on Pannenberg, considering how much he has written in the past 50 years. And none of it is on the topics I am covering. Guess I picked the right subject matter!
Took my nightly constitutional, and finally figured out something about the economics of Manchester. I was shocked at how many people can afford good cars, good televisions, and the expensive (if trashy) clothes at places like Trafford. Then as I am walking through the bar section of Didsbury, I notice drink after drink being downed, many by the same folks I have seen several other times this week. How do people afford it? No kids!!!! I don’t know which came first, the no kids and too much spendable income or a lifestyle that financially couldn’t support having kids (remember, no one gets married here, but that, em, doesn’t stop them from the possibility of having kids). No wonder the merchants in the UK don’t seem upset by the slow growth in the population here. Eat, drink, drink, buy and drink, for tomorrow there are no more people!
Sunday
Still not getting any better healthwise, though that maybe because of the lack of sleep. They sell some great drugs here, including cough medicine. You have it all, codeine, chloroform (well, that’s what it says on the label), and something called “opiate No. 4” (don’t want to know). But the direction only tell you to take small doses. Which means that you get loopy, but there isn’t enough to keep you coughing your head off. So, you tend to be awake, but not sober enough to do anything. Reminds me of some of the folks I met in Boulder.
So, my day started at 5 today. I tried and tried to get to sleep. No go. Finally, four hours later, I started making movement towards church. Walked to my favourite little Anglican church in the world, Emmanuel. Notice the crowd was sparser than normal and a new minister. He was a new curate just brought on to supplement their staff. I knew he had to be new, because I had never seen anyone at Emmanuel where the full “minister ensemble” but he did. First thing he said was, “We are a bit thin today, since some of the church are at the service installing one of our number as a priest at another church, and a huge contingent is still up at Edinburgh.” Good to know that Emmanuel was for “making poverty history” (which begs the question, is there anyone is actually against ending poverty? I am all for the program but doesn’t it seem a bit weird that you actually have to invite people to make poverty history, as if there is some great contingent of people who say, “No, really I think poverty is a great thing.” But I digress).
It was this new curate’s first Sunday with the congregation, and though he had served for a time in one other parish in Sheffield, he clearly had no idea what he had gotten himself in for. He kept expecting the normal liturgy. Nope! Then he got confused and ordered up the Gospel reading before the New Testament (which is like foregetting the Lord’s Prayer, which, he also did). I think he should have avoided wearing white today, since it made his red face stand out quite a bit more. Fortunately, he had a great sense of humour, and could laugh at himself (and had lots of chances to do so). Nice sermon, and then, when he got the passing of the peace he announced, “I understand that something called the Tweenies and Doodles are to come in now.” Though he and his wife have a two year old son, he clearly was not expecting what came next. The mass of small children entered the sanctuary (with a sound that brought back memories of the Friday bus). It appeared, from what I could make out, that many families had sent one of the two parents to Edinburgh, which meant that there was only one parent to watch after each family hoard. Quickly it became clear to all, most of all the poor minister, that the adults were drastically outnumbered.
At this point the service lost all sense of order. This is not to say the kids were poorly behaved…they were simply kids…lots of them…together…in a sanctuary with too many fun nooks and crannies to be investigated To his credit, he kept marching along, moving us to communion, where the kids get blessed as the parent get communion. Needless to say, that line was backed up to Birmingham. But amazingly, everyone seemed to be enjoying the service (well, except for the curate’s wife – clearly the curate must have been a track star in his youth because he son was doing laps around the sanctuary at top speed, which was, unfortunately, faster than his poor mother’s…eventually was lassoed by the lead musician, though his feet were still doing that Daffy Duck thing were they moving even though he was not).
Now, if it had been me, I would have just said the benediction and broken down into my chair. To his credit, the curate said, “We have an announcement, so would the kids all come up front.” Now that too bravery, real heroism, because at that point he could have been overwhelmed and ran screaming for the first train to Sheffield. But he somehow got all back into order so that a video could be shown. One of the congregation leads a Christian arts group for young people, and the video was a preview of their new play on the story of Exodus, set in a Matrix style. If that sounds perfectly hideous, it was nothing compared to this video. I mean this was so bad that it was hilarious. Especially all of the bad guys (in black with sunglasses of course) running into the brick wall that the Moses character had just led all the Israelites through. Then the man who runs this program announced, “We spend all year practicing for this one day, so please come.” All year…for this one day…for what I saw on the screen? Now that is a man who is either doing serious penance or is a true saint. There simply is no earthly explanation for people like that man-and I told him so. He took it as a compliment (which it was).
Then after a quick lunch, back to bed, and then to work on the thesis and then to writing. So, now it is time to get back to work, or bed, or a walk, or something. Write more soon.
Christopher
