After over a six hour bus ride yesterday I finally arrived in Manchester. At first I was kind of nervous, I knew that my Airbnb wasn’t right downtown and my 28′ samsonite is hell lugging around on the regular city bus. On cue it started to rain as soon as I left the bus station, just picture this: me with a bright blue suitcase you could see from space, my backpack, purse, a bag of snacks from Pret A Manger (love that place) and my umbrella, oh yeah and my phone out to navigate. Hell. It started to rain even harder when I was on the city bus to my accommodations. The house was an eight minute walk from the bus stop, which is fine if in only had a purse (and a brain that told me not to pack so heavy, I wouldn’t of listened anyway) but with all this extra baggage weighing me down I felt like I was climbing Mt. Everest just walking down the street. I was having to manhandle my suitcase, it was acting just as tired as I was, and google maps, that bitch is just as lost as Dorothy trying to find Oz. Wow, I am really throwing in the Wizard of Oz references with this post, aren’t I?! Anyhoo, I made it to the house, fiddled with the lock box and made my way in and up two flights of stairs with all my shit to a beautiful attic bedroom space just for me. It felt and looked like heaven, literally, its on the top floor and the decor is all white. Having my own private space means so much to me. The place I stayed in Brighton was nice but it wasn’t as private as I would’ve liked. After a long journey having your own space to decompress is necessary. I wasn’t going to go out but I took a walk, a nice post rain walk and I’m really happy I did. The neighborhood reminds me of my old neighborhood on the west side of Wilmington, DE. Chinese food and fried chicken places on every block, too many corner stores to count, everyday people walking down the street. I thoroughly enjoyed what I was seeing. I actually felt comfortable walking down the street in the neighborhood I’m staying in. I can’t say that about everywhere I’ve stayed. Seeing other brown people makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside and also more secure. I don’t have to worry about people staring at me like I’m a fucking spectacle or something. They’ll just stare because of my bodacious legs, not because I’m some weird novelty. I even heard someone singing Janet Jacksons “Nasty” today, that sealed my love for this city! Today I bought a lot of cute shit that I don’t need, some more rings and headwraps, cute shirts and a hot dress that will be in the closet longer than Kevin Spacey. Walked around until my feet hurt, ate a two piece chicken meal and here I am. Manchester and me!