And on the sixth day, God created Manchester

Hot on the heels of Perpignan, we hit the road Friday evening with a car full of Kalem, Alicia and Rob en route to mighty Manchester. After an easy drive up, made all the more easier with a few bottles of alcoholic ginger beer, we arrived at our stellar apartment, right in the heart of Salford Quays, or MediaCityUK as it is known due to it being smack in the epicentre of BBC and ITV's studios - not to mention the set of Coro and various other shows.

We decided to have a few more drinks despite the late hour and the crew hit the bars of Manchester, minus myself who instead opted for Maeve Binchy and bed. It sounds like I made the right decision and as I was curled up in bed in our luxury apartment the rest of the team stumbled from bar to bar, being turned away due to the fact that closing time wasn't too far away - also Kalem's sport shoes and All Blacks t-shirt didn't help their case too much.

The next morning Brad and I were up and out the door quicker than you could say 'England versus Argentina'. The rest of the crew opted to watch it at our place, but we were dead set on soaking up the English atmosphere. After quite a search we managed to find a bar that was open at that hour and we stuffed ourselves with food whilst cheering with the locals.

Afterwards I checked out the Manchester Art Gallery while Brad opted for the shops instead - is something wrong with this picture? We met up shortly afterwards with the others and set off around the city, keen to soak up the buzzy, arty atmosphere. Manchester certainly didn't disappoint - street artists, performers, shops at every corner - it's an awesome city and we could easily live there.




After strolling around the city for hours we found a glorious market, which included a delightful food offering. Next thing we knew we were strewn out in Piccadilly Gardens, the town square, munching on Caribbean food and burgers, whilst we plotted our next move.




We decided to head back to the apartment to drop off the shopping bags, which by this stage were quite heavy (sadly nothing for us was purchased, only for you miserable lot!) and take a quick kip, before we went back out in search of dinner and nightlife.

Our apartment was right on the river and we had a grand time waving at tourists on boats whilst sipping on a few bevvies. Soon enough though we were ready to head back out and let it be said the city lived up to its rep. Everywhere you looked you could see fake tan, fake eyelashes and hair extensions, and this was just the lads! The girls also gave it all they had, although sadly their hard work was ruined by the fact that some had dresses so short that their bum cheeks were hanging out (and that's not all...). Our chosen pub even had a big screen which you could text nasty messages about your friends/ people you have never met, naturally we joined in. I've decided to highlight a few of these messages below and before I get a few shocked emails telling me I can't write things like this on my blog, I want to remind you all that I am simply the messenger here:

- "Hannah Simons likes it up the bum"
- "Girl in the black and white dress, we can see your pooooontaaang"

Or my personal fav...

- "Carly Hill has a fanny like a yawning hippo!"

Ahhh Manchester - it's an experience to say the least.




We awoke on Sunday to a breakfast of bacon and eggs, which we scoffed while watching Wales sadly get beaten by South Africa. From here we set off excitedly to Old Trafford Stadium where we had booked a tour of the world's most famous football stomping ground, Manchester United. The tour was absolutely amazing and it was impossible not to get swept away in the excitement. We loved it! Seeing the changing rooms, the player's lounge, sitting in the dug out, were experiences that will stick with us forever, but perhaps our best experience was running through the tunnel. Here you get to line up while your guide gets you running on the spot, doing a few stretches, whilst the Man U theme song blares out, alongside audience cheers just as you run out. Brad, bless his soul, got a little carried away and next thing you know his arms are wide open and his shirt is up over his head as he lurches around, thankfully managing to dodge fellow tour mates! Perhaps it was the excitement from the night before when he was mistaken for the Manchester Goalie all night long? No kidding - people were even lining up for photos, suspicious glances every which way you turned as he tried to convince them he wasn't who they thought he was, and rather than believe him they suspected he was taking the mickey and he was in fact world-famous but just wanted a quiet night out!









Manchester was a great weekend although certainly not long enough! There's so much to see, do and soak up that we feel we barely scratched the surface. Ah well, there's always next weekend!

Xxx

Screw London 2012, bring on Perpignan 2012

Hot on the heels of my trip to Cannes for the Cannes Lions Festival, just two months later I was lucky enough to attend Visa Pour L’Image, the international photojournalism festival held annually in Perpignan, France. Not knowing what to expect, although being told it was a hell of a lot different to Cannes, off I flew with a few colleagues on the bank holiday Monday, only to return a week later with new friends, new experiences and memories that I will never forget.




While I’m aware that I’m at risk of sounding like a wanky greeting card, I absolutely loved my time there and being surrounded by such talent and passion for photojournalism was beyond inspiring. Our team was so talented, welcoming and humble, not to mention so utterly hilarious that when I flew out on Sunday evening, my tummy muscles and cheeks ached from laughing and smiling. Just what the doctor ordered!




Right in the heart of the Catalan region of France, Perpignan is a classic French city and due to its proximity to Andorra and Spain (just a half hour drive away to the border); barely a word of English was spoken. This did wonders for my French, but also saw me copiously explaining that I was from New Zealand, not England, which was met with far more friendliness than moments before when they thought I was a Pom! I often play this card when travelling in France – that way they think of my broken French as endearing, as opposed to ignorant. If I could read their French minds I’ve no doubt they would be thinking: “Listen to her giving it her all – good girl yourself!” Rather than the “Get a load of the English imbecile” which was running through their minds just moments before. In fact my French got quite a good workout, and it would have been exercised even more so if I hadn’t been with a group of those annoyingly intimidating people who can speak 10 languages – ‘Italiano? No problem, I spent three years there as a toddler’; ‘Swahili? Of course, my Au pair was from the Kibajuni region’. Unfortunately whilst extremely educated in languages of the world, they were also incredibly lovely, so I couldn’t even dislike them or tar them with the ‘lickarse’ brush.

Despite being utterly hectic with media interviews, press conferences, exhibitions, manning the stand, whilst trying to do my regular job, my time there was wonderful, hence the title of this blog – never mind the London 2012 Olympics, it’s all about Perpignan 2012!




While there weren’t so many glitzy parties as in Cannes, Perpignan was far less pretentious and the people were so interesting, humble and had a fair few good stories to tell too. One of my colleagues was telling me how he’d recently been on assignment in Madagascar where he had captured images of an indigenous tribe, who host a circumcision festival each year, in which it is custom for the ‘surgeon’ to eat all the foreskin afterwards, with a banana. No exaggeration here I promise! Not surprisingly, I steered clear of ordering any calamari during my time here...




Of course it wasn’t all light-hearted banter and I’ll just say that the imagery being captured around the world showing the devastating loss of life, conflict, oppression and the uncomprehending sadness some people are suffering is just so harrowing. It has had a marked effect and I just can’t believe that all of this stuff is going on around the world, yet we don’t hear about it because the media choose not to cover it.



The content being shown at Visa was so diverse – including a seminar which I attended by a French film maker, who spent three months in New Zealand earlier this year filming a documentary on the All Blacks and the haka. It was such an amazing documentary and really moving to the point of complete shivers and a few tears of pride. In fact, if I had to fight the urge to stand up and scream something embarrassingly patriotic, or worse – launch into a rendition of ‘Tutira mai nga iwi!’ Thankfully I managed to catch myself just in the nick of time!

It was over too soon and while I was pleased to see Brad, I certainly wasn’t happy to leave the 30 degree heat behind. True to form, London greeted me with rain and freezing winds, meaning I’m now sporting my winter coat – just days into autumn!

Love to all.

x