Following a decline in industry and an IRA bombing, Manchester has pulled itself up from the ashes to become one of the most exciting cultural hubs in the UK. Having lived in the city for five years, I spend some time looking at the city centre through the eyes of a tourist.

As I travel from London to Manchester on a warm, stuffy coach I drift in and out of sleep. Each time I wake up the skies turn darker and as the rain starts to fall I feel my mood lifting. Most people’s hearts would sink seeing the weather turn from beautiful sunshine to torrential rain but it reminds me of Manchester, a city where it never seems to stop raining and the skies are always grey.

I first moved to Manchester seven years ago and it seemed so foreign. Endless concrete and grim rows of Victorian terraced houses with no gardens. Dilapidated cotton mills and dark, unwelcoming, seedy side streets but the more I got to know the area, the more I fell in love and with good reason.

Usually, I would stay with friends but due to lack of beds on their part and lack of funds on mine, I have been relegated to a hostel in the city centre.

The five minute walk down Portland Street from the coach station to Hatters Hostel gives an instant feel for the real Manchester and how it has changed. As I turn onto Portland Street I pass people of all colours and creeds as traffic of what seems like an endless train of double decker "Magic Buses" moves slowly past.

Over the stink of petrol fumes I can smell food as I pass the abundance of restaurants in China Town. The mixture of architecture, ranging from huge Victorian hotels to modern glass skyscrapers shows how this small industrial town has grown and developed to become Britain’s third city.

Upon arrival at the hostel I am greeted by a friendly Australian who seems to think I am some sort of VIP as he exclaims, "We have been expecting you; all the preparations have been made."

Hatters, which claims to be the second best hostel chain in the world, have put me in a dorm where I am sharing with 17 other people. The room is generally clean and tidy apart from each person’s bed which is littered with clothes, books and sleeping bodies. As I pack my clothes into the drawer under my bed and warily put my valuables into a locker, I hope that no one attempts to crow bar it open. I am assured, though, by a fellow dorm-mate who has returned to Hatters a number of times that everything will be fine.

Within minutes of arriving I quickly set off to meet a friend. I arrive in Piccadilly Gardens, the heart of the city centre; a large square with a winding path and fountains which get crowded with drenched people in the summer. As I stand in the centre of the square I scan my surroundings and take in the spectrum of old and new, I listen to people’s strong Mancunian accents and I feel at home.

My friend arrives and we head off down Market Street to stroll around the shops. Manchester has great shopping, from high street chains to high end designer boutiques. This part of the city has been completely reinvented following the IRA bombing of June 1996. We climb the escalator up into the Arndale Centre, enter a glass tunnel suspended high above the road and cross into Selfridges. The view from the tunnel shows how successful the rebuilding of the area has been. The streets are wide and clean and almost traffic free as it is made easier for cars to avoid the city centre. Restaurants and cafes line the streets and squares and people sit outside under canopies and heaters despite the rain.

I watch with envy as my friend buys clothes and shoes and I wish that I had come at another time when I had a bigger budget. I hurry her up as much as possible and we decide to go for lunch on Canal Street. We head back up Market Street and traverse Piccadilly Gardens and into the gay village, of which Canal Street is at the centre.

By this time the rain has stopped and the clouds have given way to some balmy skies and pleasant spring sunshine. People pour out of the bars onto the narrow, pedestrianised street and perch on the wall over the canal or on the chairs and tables for the length of the road. This area, made famous by the television series "Queer as Folk", has a constant buzz and a great European cafe culture. Only decades ago many of the buildings were derelict and people would knock on the doors of the pubs with blackened windows for entry.

Having eaten so much food that we can barely walk, we take a detour through China Town on the way to the Northern Quarter. The Northern Quarter is a strangely quiet part of the city but packed with things to do. Another successfully regenerated area, there is some impressive architecture which shows off the city’s industrial past. Walking around gives a feeling of bohemian glamour with its trendy boutiques and alternative shops. The narrow streets are lined with music shops and specialist charity shops such as Vintage Oxfam and are very popular with Manchester’s student population.

By now I am in need of some rest and to take the weight off my feet. Back in the hostel I find the room is now an empty and peaceful haven from the hustle and bustle outside – perfect for a nap before an evening out.

The nightlife in Manchester is like no other city with bars and clubs to suit all tastes in a compact area. Even though the famed Factory Records and the Hacienda may have ceased business, the city is still very much awake until the early hours of the morning.

We begin our evening in Deansgate Locks, a row of converted railway arches over a canal. Entering each bar here makes me feel uneasy, there is an air of pretention and drinks are very pricey. After a while we decide to go to 5th Avenue, a favourite with students and locals due to the rock-bottom prices. This may not be to everyone’s taste though; the club is dark with black painted walls, sticky floors and upstairs, stale smelling carpets. The music, however, is perfect for me and the atmosphere is hedonistic.

The perfect end to a perfect day.

You might also be interested in our article Visiting the Lake District in England

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