The walk to Arrandale House would be long and
uphill, luggage in tow; I got a cab.
From the driver I gleaned that the population of Manx citizens/residents
stood at 87,000; the government was trying to attract settlers, hoping to
increase the count to 100,000.
After
checking in and dropping my bags (in a cramped but well appointed room), I went
for a wander. Being disconnected, I’d
have to rely on MapsMe, which I’d last used in the Baltics in 2014. Gulls soared and cawed, setting a holiday
mood. The cityscape was pretty, neat and
clean; I was still out and about to witness peak-hour dribble. The promenade skirting the beach had pretty
gardens and lots of lovely park benches.
Here I also found statues of the Bee Gees, who I hadn’t previously known
were born on the Isle of Man! For
dinner, I ordered a kebab from Best Kebab. With that in hand, I called it a day. There are always times on a trip when
discovery must surrender to recovery. I
never know when it will happen, so I plan too much and get to what I can.
 |
| (Douglas) |
Next morning, I had breakfast in the hotel. Here again, I was served by someone with a Slavic accent. Here again, the breakfast was okay, but nothing really to remember, although the dining room was well appointed. I checked out but left my luggage with the receptionist, who was warm and helpful. I’d get around the island by bus until my evening flight back to the UK. (Although I left the UK yesterday and would return today, I was not asked for my passport, nor did I receive any stamps.) I rode a bus first to St. Erin.
 |
| (St. Erin) |
There was a quirky little railway museum in this town. I went to the supermarket, had a cup of tea at Subway. The young chap behind the counter had tattoos all around his neck, reaching right up to the bottoms of his cheeks. Despite this (may I call it "hostile") appearance, he was friendly and respectful.
 |
| (Railway Museum) |
I returned to Douglas and then rode to Ramsey.
The vegetation was
lush, and we passed through pretty little villages along the way, but
ultimately, I didn’t love this isle.
Having had a baked potato with tuna for lunch and then wandered around Ramsey, I waited at the bus stop
to return to Douglas. At this point
three pensioners from Surrey struck up a conversation with me. I think they said it was their first time
visiting here, too. There were two women
and a man; he had the visible effects of a stroke, but spoke fluidly. These three asked me the same question the
octogenarian Canadian had asked me at the ferry port yesterday: was I
retired? Who, dear? Me, dear? Retired, dear? No, dear!
How very dare you! (... a
Catherine Tate quote …)
 |
| (Ramsey) |
The Isle of Man has its own language, laws, taxes, education system and head of state. It prints its own currency, which is legal tender across the UK, too. However, in practice, I’d been warned that most businesses on the mainland wouldn’t accept it and that I shouldn’t return to the UK with lots of currency. I paid by card for everything on the isle. A feature of traffic control was the trusty old traffic circle. Signs on the side of the road with cameras attached checked your speed; then a lighted smiley or sad face let drivers know how they were doing. (To be fair, both the traffic circle and the smiley/sad faces were also present in the UK.) All buses had security cameras with a monitor on the upper deck showing the live footage. This sign at a park on Stanley Terrace laid bare a degree of regimentation, an almost parental attitude to the citizenry.
I got the impression that society here was tightly controlled, not unlike
the situation in Singapore. Riding the
bus, I saw the front doors of several homes wide open, no resident in sight,
and we also went passed a garage containing loads of tools, totally open and
unprotected. It is safe enough for
prepubescent kids to ride the bus without supervision, and there were loads of
them. Growing up here must be hard for
ordinary teenagers. On the other hand,
raising children here must be a dream for parents. As a timorous child, I’d probably have felt
protected, though I was told by several people that homosexuality remains
illegal on the isle. What?! Within Europe? (Researching this after the trip, I found it
to be untrue – Manx LGBTQ+ legislation closely follows continental practices.) How the greedy English came to control the
whole of Ireland for 700 years and then much of the world for 300 years, yet didn’t
also take the Isle of Man is a mystery to me.
Back in Douglas, I returned to get my bag from Arrandale House. It was in the dining room, as promised. The door was unlocked and there was no one about, which seemed rather laissez-faire. However, like I said, the isle seemed safe. I dragged my bag down the hill and across town to the bus stop. I’d misjudged the time needed at the airport and arrived 150 minutes early. Oh, well. When I boarded the easyJet flight, the two best looking specimens who’d been waiting at the gate were seated in front of and beside me! It’s the little joys in life.