I'm back, although not without difficulty.
Not long after I arrived at my girlfriend's village did the trouble come. Manchester has, like I've written before, fallen into red and green zones; unfortunately, the red zones have happened in the poorest and areas already ridden with crime before the shock. This includes Moss Side, Rusholme, and some of the abandoned industrial sites on the outskirts of the city centre. As the red zones worsened, gangs became more prevalent. the weapons of choice are anything that looks dangerous, swings hard, or fires a bullet.
I wouldn't have foreseen this, but I can now see the regression to the waterways as inevitable. small barges were hijacked and refitted to transport food. Some of the villages along the Bridgewater Canal used eminent domain to claim water vehicles for this purpose early on. Now the hungry, homeless, and essentially helpless have created it as a tactic for piracy.
We heard about it before they reached us. A mass exodus has taken place, and people are trying to distance themselves as far away from the waterways as possible. Towns further up, such as Sale, were hit. The gangs stole vegetables, destroyed irrigation systems, set fire to community barges. I'm sure far worse atrocities were taken out on those who didn't off the fruits of their labours.
My girlfriend, her family, and I didn't know what to do. The town was being torn apart. Some wanted to fight when the gangs came, others wanted to hike into the country. I was inclined to stay, but the best line of defense I had was my horn. I couldn't fight with that!
Or could I? We realized it could be a warning signal. I would station near the canal, and other brass musicians further afield. We used simple tunes to convey messages. Every 3 hours during the day, and once before going to sleep, I would play "God Save the Queen" as a way of establishing all being well and safe. If I spotted anything suspicious, I would use a tune from my youth, "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" I taught it to the other musicians, and it was established every several days we would run a "mock" drill, to keep people fresh.
///Continued Tomorrow///
Tuesday 29 May 2007
Thursday 24 May 2007
A New Place, A New Pace
A week later, I'm in northern Cheshire.
My girlfriend lives with her parents in a small village, and with my lease run out, I figured it would be good to move in (they're quite friendly and open-minded, so it shouldn't be TOO much of a burden - in fact, it was almost at their behest). With gas and train charges what they are, I can see why it would be better for me to simply move in. I hadn't seen her in about a month (and I thought it was unbearable BEFORE the gas prices shot up!), so naturally I feel refreshed.
The move was simple and efficient. We had to use a bit of petrol, but the expense was surely worth it. We made it in one trip, as she used her mother's car, which is a bit larger. I entrusted my books and "growing guides" to the people down the block, who own their house. It's a really amazing thought; all the knowledge contained in a book, and as transferable as cash used to be. They was to start a "sustainable library" in their flat, and I thought my books on herbs and local food would be a good contribution. I wouldn't need them; my girlfriend is amazingly knowledgeable about food and plants. What I can find in a book she can find in her head.
The village doesn't have too many jobs, which worries me a bit, but I'll find something. Unfortunately, we're both trained in the "frivolous art" of classical music. Musicians tend to be quite uppity when you discuss the decline of "classical music", citing increased audiences and society's need for uplifting arts. Unfortunately, food is a bit more vital, and who wants to sit in a darkened concert hall? (not darkened by choice, mind you). It's no wonder most of the orchestras haven't posted new seasons.
What I hope to do is find a practical use for my music. As my horn has quite a large sound, I can use it to project messages (not intricate thoughts - just warnings and such); also, I know how people can get down in times like this, and surely small afternoon concerts may raise their spirits. Perhaps those with instruments (including my girlfriend) will feel the urge to join in the merriment. The opportunities are there if you look hard enough.
It's not that I'm not busy; I still have to help cultivate the gardens...it seems like the entire countryside has been usurped for fruits and veggies. I recall reading about how much oil played an impact on food production in the US, but I didn't think it was as great here. Unfortunately, Britain still has a population way to large to support on its land alone (and certainly without oil). I fear many people will suffer, and I would do anything to alleviate their pain.
I hope someone nice has moved into my flat; someone kind, caring, open, and hard-working. Similarly, I hope I can build a similar reputation here. Although too large to know every one's name, I want to be recognized as someone approachable, someone with ideas. Communities need friends. And I need community.
My girlfriend lives with her parents in a small village, and with my lease run out, I figured it would be good to move in (they're quite friendly and open-minded, so it shouldn't be TOO much of a burden - in fact, it was almost at their behest). With gas and train charges what they are, I can see why it would be better for me to simply move in. I hadn't seen her in about a month (and I thought it was unbearable BEFORE the gas prices shot up!), so naturally I feel refreshed.
The move was simple and efficient. We had to use a bit of petrol, but the expense was surely worth it. We made it in one trip, as she used her mother's car, which is a bit larger. I entrusted my books and "growing guides" to the people down the block, who own their house. It's a really amazing thought; all the knowledge contained in a book, and as transferable as cash used to be. They was to start a "sustainable library" in their flat, and I thought my books on herbs and local food would be a good contribution. I wouldn't need them; my girlfriend is amazingly knowledgeable about food and plants. What I can find in a book she can find in her head.
The village doesn't have too many jobs, which worries me a bit, but I'll find something. Unfortunately, we're both trained in the "frivolous art" of classical music. Musicians tend to be quite uppity when you discuss the decline of "classical music", citing increased audiences and society's need for uplifting arts. Unfortunately, food is a bit more vital, and who wants to sit in a darkened concert hall? (not darkened by choice, mind you). It's no wonder most of the orchestras haven't posted new seasons.
What I hope to do is find a practical use for my music. As my horn has quite a large sound, I can use it to project messages (not intricate thoughts - just warnings and such); also, I know how people can get down in times like this, and surely small afternoon concerts may raise their spirits. Perhaps those with instruments (including my girlfriend) will feel the urge to join in the merriment. The opportunities are there if you look hard enough.
It's not that I'm not busy; I still have to help cultivate the gardens...it seems like the entire countryside has been usurped for fruits and veggies. I recall reading about how much oil played an impact on food production in the US, but I didn't think it was as great here. Unfortunately, Britain still has a population way to large to support on its land alone (and certainly without oil). I fear many people will suffer, and I would do anything to alleviate their pain.
I hope someone nice has moved into my flat; someone kind, caring, open, and hard-working. Similarly, I hope I can build a similar reputation here. Although too large to know every one's name, I want to be recognized as someone approachable, someone with ideas. Communities need friends. And I need community.
Wednesday 23 May 2007
A Sad Farewell
Today was a celebration!
As I'm leaving tomorrow, leaving the neighborhood in which I've spent the last 10 months, in which I've shared the difficulties and hardships, it was quite necessary to spend the last day with those to whom I've grown close.
The whole neighborhood has become so close recently, it's quite amazing; especially when we hear about the shootings and stabbings in other parts. My area wasn't especially known for it's lack of crime, but when the oil shock happened, people grew closer quite quickly.
My neighborhood is broken into four streets that form a square. on the edges are the houses, and in the middle is a green area, no used to grow food. Actually, just about anywhere that one finds dirt, one finds plants. Windowsills, rooftops, all the space is being used. Despite this, we've still needed to cut down on how much we eat. The summer was almost unbearable, especially when the local Tesco closed. Gas was unavailable (the tanker simply stopped coming), and there was such a significant loss of shelved foods that they couldn't make it work financially. People have commandeered the area, drawing "allotments" (which they've claimed themselves) for food.
Back to the party: Everyone chipped in, and brought their own dish to pass around; no one felt obliged to make a lot, since there was the whole area to feed. It was an excellent opportunity for the new neighbors to become acquainted.
Because of the time of year, it was an excellent time to celebrate; it was almost a Thanksgiving (although a bit of reverse: and American in England!) - there was so much to eat, and everyone had drawn from the diverse collection of veggies and fruits.
Everyone prepared their food in the morning, because we wanted to enjoy ourselves in the late afternoon. There's no telling who will be out and about after the sun goes down, and we much prefer keeping out lights off because of the electricity shortages. Most people tried to keep their food uncooked as well, because gas isn't reliable as well. I worry that soon after I leave, things will get worse (not that I'm the pin the works, but a lack of gas is one thing; losing gas and electricity - our connection to the outside world, is something dreadful).
Perhaps I'll be able to visit sometime. Moving the country won't be difficult to get used to (although it might be - I grew up in the country in the US, but that was with access to a car and plenty of opportunities to find something new), and I know I'll miss everyone I've gotten to know in the past 6 months. It's amazing to think it's been that long since we've had "cheap" oil.
As I'm leaving tomorrow, leaving the neighborhood in which I've spent the last 10 months, in which I've shared the difficulties and hardships, it was quite necessary to spend the last day with those to whom I've grown close.
The whole neighborhood has become so close recently, it's quite amazing; especially when we hear about the shootings and stabbings in other parts. My area wasn't especially known for it's lack of crime, but when the oil shock happened, people grew closer quite quickly.
My neighborhood is broken into four streets that form a square. on the edges are the houses, and in the middle is a green area, no used to grow food. Actually, just about anywhere that one finds dirt, one finds plants. Windowsills, rooftops, all the space is being used. Despite this, we've still needed to cut down on how much we eat. The summer was almost unbearable, especially when the local Tesco closed. Gas was unavailable (the tanker simply stopped coming), and there was such a significant loss of shelved foods that they couldn't make it work financially. People have commandeered the area, drawing "allotments" (which they've claimed themselves) for food.
Back to the party: Everyone chipped in, and brought their own dish to pass around; no one felt obliged to make a lot, since there was the whole area to feed. It was an excellent opportunity for the new neighbors to become acquainted.
Because of the time of year, it was an excellent time to celebrate; it was almost a Thanksgiving (although a bit of reverse: and American in England!) - there was so much to eat, and everyone had drawn from the diverse collection of veggies and fruits.
Everyone prepared their food in the morning, because we wanted to enjoy ourselves in the late afternoon. There's no telling who will be out and about after the sun goes down, and we much prefer keeping out lights off because of the electricity shortages. Most people tried to keep their food uncooked as well, because gas isn't reliable as well. I worry that soon after I leave, things will get worse (not that I'm the pin the works, but a lack of gas is one thing; losing gas and electricity - our connection to the outside world, is something dreadful).
Perhaps I'll be able to visit sometime. Moving the country won't be difficult to get used to (although it might be - I grew up in the country in the US, but that was with access to a car and plenty of opportunities to find something new), and I know I'll miss everyone I've gotten to know in the past 6 months. It's amazing to think it's been that long since we've had "cheap" oil.
Tuesday 22 May 2007
Autumn Nights
I climbed out of my window, on to the flat roof of the abandoned fruit and veg shop (it was gone well before the crisis...perhaps we could use it now?) and lied down, looking up at the stars.
It's times like these that noises hit me the most. Or perhaps least, as I contemplated the calming silence enveloping me. No cars in the distance. No planes overhead. The students don't go out to the clubs anymore, because the beer is warm and there's a curfew. A general despondency has fallen over the city.
Manchester had its poor spots, its "red zones", the areas you don't go in the night, all before the crisis. They're still here, and I hear they're significantly worse. Riots break out in the north and south-west. Murders and theft has skyrocketed. The mayor and city council don't seem to have any idea how to break the chaos. I tend to keep to my area, the only time outside the neighborhood being when job-hunting, or stopping by the nearest "convenience" store (knowing that they really won't have anything). I make a weekly stop by the school, not to study (losing almost all of your international students, as well as fair amount of Brits surely can't help the situation), but to buy from the portable fruit cart in the nearby park. I'm surprised they can even make it out here, although the lady in the trailer told me they've reorganized their delivery and pick-up route to save gas. The prices are still significantly higher than they were in the spring.
As my lease nears its end, I'm trying to say goodbye to the neighbors in my own unique way. I've played while they've worked in the "field" - the name we've given to the parks and communal gardens claimed by all who have the proper equipment. Although we're not well-off, we certainly are hospitable, and a feeling of community has flourished; they enjoy my tunes, and they always give me some of the crop. I'll miss them when I leave (two weeks), but the move will be better for me.
Most of the students have left, but the houses have filled up with people looking for cheaper rooms. They are friendly and accommodating, and I don't find it difficult to talk with them. During my degree, I found talk outside music difficult. Although I've had many varied interests, I found communicating ideas and thoughts awkward. Now it's a different story: we're focusing on what needs to be done, our long-term goals, past stories. The temptation to talk about "the way things were..." is always there, although we all know we'll never return. We can smile warmly at the past, but we need to focus our attention here and now.
It's times like these that noises hit me the most. Or perhaps least, as I contemplated the calming silence enveloping me. No cars in the distance. No planes overhead. The students don't go out to the clubs anymore, because the beer is warm and there's a curfew. A general despondency has fallen over the city.
Manchester had its poor spots, its "red zones", the areas you don't go in the night, all before the crisis. They're still here, and I hear they're significantly worse. Riots break out in the north and south-west. Murders and theft has skyrocketed. The mayor and city council don't seem to have any idea how to break the chaos. I tend to keep to my area, the only time outside the neighborhood being when job-hunting, or stopping by the nearest "convenience" store (knowing that they really won't have anything). I make a weekly stop by the school, not to study (losing almost all of your international students, as well as fair amount of Brits surely can't help the situation), but to buy from the portable fruit cart in the nearby park. I'm surprised they can even make it out here, although the lady in the trailer told me they've reorganized their delivery and pick-up route to save gas. The prices are still significantly higher than they were in the spring.
As my lease nears its end, I'm trying to say goodbye to the neighbors in my own unique way. I've played while they've worked in the "field" - the name we've given to the parks and communal gardens claimed by all who have the proper equipment. Although we're not well-off, we certainly are hospitable, and a feeling of community has flourished; they enjoy my tunes, and they always give me some of the crop. I'll miss them when I leave (two weeks), but the move will be better for me.
Most of the students have left, but the houses have filled up with people looking for cheaper rooms. They are friendly and accommodating, and I don't find it difficult to talk with them. During my degree, I found talk outside music difficult. Although I've had many varied interests, I found communicating ideas and thoughts awkward. Now it's a different story: we're focusing on what needs to be done, our long-term goals, past stories. The temptation to talk about "the way things were..." is always there, although we all know we'll never return. We can smile warmly at the past, but we need to focus our attention here and now.
Monday 21 May 2007
Catching Up...
The past 5 months have been incredibly difficult. Even though I still can't find work, probably won't get my degree, and am half-way around the world from those I love, I keep thinking about those who are worse off than me.
The homeless, for example. Manchester, although not a crowning utopia of British urban planning, was still generally free from swaths of people sleeping on the streets. It used to be college students too drunk to stumble home; no it's people who lost their job and couldn't make the rent. It's good Prime Minister Gordon Brown has set up legislation to keep people from being evicted, but it's certainly too little, too late.
Likewise, the other students not aware of the implications. I've been interested in oil for about a year; many of the students (both at my Undergrad Uni in the US and here) were completely oblivious. Of course, most musicians are: they just want to sit in their practice rooms all day, "honing their craft" - no thought towards the community they'll eventually serve. There's such an ivory tower mentality in classical music, even in today's crisis. I've at least moved on, reusing razors, buying locally. It's been my normal modus operandi, so it won't take long to get used to these changes.
Of course, this is all in lieu of finances. I still have my account in America, which can keep me in my house for another month or so. After that, I'll probably just live with my girlfriend and her parents and hope things improve. I won't be able to commute to school, though; I imagine that will be the end of my hopes for a Master's.
It was good my parents were able to fly over early on, despite the ticket prices. There was obviously enough ruckus to guarantee prices for those who already bought tickets. I know they wanted me to come back, but I certainly couldn't pay the airline prices. And I feel safer here. I've grown attached to the city. Similarly, I've never been in as strong a relationship as I am now.
Thank goodness for the positive...
The homeless, for example. Manchester, although not a crowning utopia of British urban planning, was still generally free from swaths of people sleeping on the streets. It used to be college students too drunk to stumble home; no it's people who lost their job and couldn't make the rent. It's good Prime Minister Gordon Brown has set up legislation to keep people from being evicted, but it's certainly too little, too late.
Likewise, the other students not aware of the implications. I've been interested in oil for about a year; many of the students (both at my Undergrad Uni in the US and here) were completely oblivious. Of course, most musicians are: they just want to sit in their practice rooms all day, "honing their craft" - no thought towards the community they'll eventually serve. There's such an ivory tower mentality in classical music, even in today's crisis. I've at least moved on, reusing razors, buying locally. It's been my normal modus operandi, so it won't take long to get used to these changes.
Of course, this is all in lieu of finances. I still have my account in America, which can keep me in my house for another month or so. After that, I'll probably just live with my girlfriend and her parents and hope things improve. I won't be able to commute to school, though; I imagine that will be the end of my hopes for a Master's.
It was good my parents were able to fly over early on, despite the ticket prices. There was obviously enough ruckus to guarantee prices for those who already bought tickets. I know they wanted me to come back, but I certainly couldn't pay the airline prices. And I feel safer here. I've grown attached to the city. Similarly, I've never been in as strong a relationship as I am now.
Thank goodness for the positive...
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