arrival

In traditional UK fashion, it was drizzly and wet when we landed in Manchester early Wednesday morning. My first glimpse of the area was of lush green fields through transparent grey fog. And all the fields looked so smooth like they were patches of frosting on a cake, lined with dark green circles of trees and bushes. Of course, that's only out in the country. But that's just a short ride away...

The flight to Chicago was uneventful and I slept through most of it. OH haha, before we boarded the plane, I noticed some nice-looking-handsome-enough guys about to board too. And as we got on the plane, they went into the right side, and I to the left. But when I saw them up ahead, I noticed they'd turned into the aisle I was headed for and in my head I laughed. Because this kind of thing only happens in movie magic where you end up sitting next to cute guys on a plane at random. Lo and behold. There he was, 35D, and there I was, 35E. That's when I actually smiled because I'd beaten Hollywood. I'd turned movie magic into reality! But Hollywood struck back. My dad started talking to the guy next to him who turned out to be a really nice British guy. And when my dad told him I was his daughter, the nice guy offered to switch seats with me so I'd have the window and be next to my dad. And so once again, I was not seated next to an interesting, young person who I could talk to and chat with. Alas. I survived. When we got to O'Hare, I tried getting online via their wi-fi but although my laptop picked up the connection, it wouldn't let me do anything. So that was lame. On the way to Manchester, I tried to sleep as much as possible but my insomnia kicked in. I listened to four whole albums on my iPod willing myself to fall asleep. But I couldn't. So that flight felt really really long.

When we finally landed in Manchester, it took forever to taxi to the gate and wait for another plane to get out of the way and let us through. But I was happily surprised to find that just at the end of the hall after getting off the plane was immigration! At Heathrow it would have taken hours to line up and get through immigration and security. In Manchester, it was really small and the baggage turny-thing (wow, that was eloquently put. forgive me, it's ten till 3am) was right down the stairs and when we walked out the door, taxis were lined up waiting for us. It was all very simple and quick and easy which was nice after such a long flight.

Now most importantly, my first official act in Manchester was ... to pee about a gallon in the Manchester airport. I just thought I should let you know because that's all I could think about in the process (of bladding) was that I couldn't believe this was the first thing I was doing on official Mancunian land. Anyways.

So then we began our taxi ride to my residence hall, St Gabriel's Hall, 1 Oxford Place. Needless to say, I was excited beyong reason. I sat starting out the window, camera in hand, lens poised for anything that looked interesting. And, in my excited euphoria, by 'anything' I definitely meant 'everything.'

My dad in a British cab.

I took wayyyy too many pictures, but I really couldn't help it.

British cars

British houses

Blurry dead British people (it's a cemetery)

And a giant M with 'Manchester' written on the side, to welcome me, yes me, into the city.