I read in a book for writers that it doesn’t matter which day of the week the story is set—unless it’s a Sunday, because on Sundays, most people feel at loose ends about what to do with their time. Rather than use our freedom or free time wisely, we tend to overdo it— overeat, oversleep and if you ever had to visit the folks during the weekend, overreact. Luckily, I had a high tea with friends today so as Sundays go, there was minimal stress (though we definitely overate!)
I took my camera along, so a few shots of a lazy, cold Amsterdam today (a Sunday). With bikes, of course!
I realize I am going to have to get my camera out and take photos of what I pass daily in the streets. Saturday, the main shopping day for us 9 to 5-ers, is a gold mine for seeing the variety of people on bicycles, but I left the house again without my camera. Today, this is what I saw cycling:
the postman, who had a dozen weathered tassles, stuffed animals, key chains and god knows what hanging off his handle bars, as he delivered the mail
parents in the bakfiets, a bicycle with a huge container (or bak) attached to the front end, where the kids fit in. As one woman was cycling her daughter, probably about 5 years old, kept waving at me. I waved back and when she stuck her thumb in her mouth I shouted, “lekker?” (tasty?) She nodded her head yes and then started greeting another cyclist on her left.
an impatient, though elegantly dressed, cyclist, who told me to move because I was standing where she wanted to park her bike.
Let me just say this, on Saturdays, bikes and cyclists are like pigeons. They’re everywhere and likely to fly straight into you if you’re not paying good attention.
There are a few dozen more examples, but rather than write about them, I know I have to photograph them next time. It’s just that you see the oddest, most beautiful things when you’re moving, zipping along the streets, unable to grab your camera while simultaneously breaking for cross traffic. The best images are still in my head but I will aim to get more photos, because seeing how people do it here is the best way to show how utterly normal cycling on a daily basis should be.
I’ve always loved riding a bike and if pressed to say why, the primary reason I would choose is this: freedom. When I was a child, cycling allowed me to explore my neighborhood and what lay just beyond its edges, a mean feat in L.A.’s sprawling suburbs. I gladly rode without my parents and supervision, racing through empty school parking lots, parks and eventually, I would reach the beach to breathe in the endless, salty Pacific Ocean.
As a teenager, I ignored cycling in favor of cruising in my first car, fiddling with the radio. But cruising meant inching along at a snail’s pace, battling an overactive radiator, because the streets in L.A. may be paved in gold but they are also clogged 24/7. But this was a temporary glitch in my cycling history and I grew out of it.
I started cycling again in college in England, convinced I made better time to campus than the national rail service, and generally fell in love with the different ways of getting around. In the UK, unlike America, I could take a train, a bus, a tram, the underground, I could drive, walk or bike–they were all options. But cycling continued to top my list because all I needed were my two legs and a sense of direction, no tickets or timetables required. I cycled along England’s chalky coastline, taking in the scenery, free to explore and follow any path I wanted for any reason; I cycled through bigger cities, too, but the point was I cycled, gaining confidence and pleasure from the immediacy of the experience.
And now I am in Amsterdam, with its well-earned reputation for being a cycling capital, happy to be one of thousands of cyclists heading off on the daily commute–and may I add, unplussed about what they’re wearing (fashion statements are tres L.A. but mean little in this Calvinist country.) Being able to cycle everywhere has become a little routine now, I admit. But there are certain days when the light is just so and I am cycling over a narrow, elegant bridge that could be 400 years old and I realize where I am and how much freedom I enjoy, particularly as a cyclist. In that regard, Amsterdam continually surprises and pleases me. Yes, I do have it so good..
'Dam Bike Betty 