I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my biiike (or Signal before you pass the Dutchie on the left hand side)

Groningen, NL (courtesy of Commons Wikimedia)

Ohhh the Netherlands, how I love this place.

I’m definitely starting to settle into living here with each day that goes by.

Groningen is a smaller, perhaps lesser known Dutch city (within the international circles) – so chill and textbook of how I imagine Europe in my head.

Cobblestone streets, café’s, open markets (the best, I love ittt, we found all sorts of interesting non-Dutch food varieties - like Plantain - nom!).

But it rains, it rains a lot, it rains like winter never ends in Canada – in an unpredictable and generally constant manner.

Oh and

BIKES, bikes EVERYWHERE.

"The Dutch love to bike," will probably be the understatement of my time here.

One cab driver even told me that the ratio of bike to people in Groningen is about 2:1!

Not just one or two - MANY bikes
(Courtesy of departmentfortransport.wordpress.com)

It’s almost like watching a school of fish all follow each other in perfect rhythm and time.

On the street,
On the side walk,
In opposite directions while a car (with the right of way) is trying to sneak past.

(Four-way stops are a thing of beautaaay)

Without helmets (for shame!)

With attachments on the front or back for carting along infants.

I didn’t realize what an important part of the culture it is but it’s endearing to see it embraced so widely.

In Montreal I lived pretty centrally and liked the idea of walking (hate/hate relationship with the metro), and a 20/30 minute walk was decent - nothing to write home about.

But in the Netherlands? People will offer to give you a ride on the front/back/basket of their bike to avoid the idea of having to walk for even five mins.

I cast this idea off as ridiculous, it was a brisk 15 mins between home and the university/city centre.
I could handle that, easy.

But then something happened, a combination of peer pressure and laziness spontaneously collided into a perfect storm (exaggerating. but it was definitely cloudy and gray) when a friend going home for the weekend said, “Here, take my bike.”

Internal thought bubble:

And ride it?

With all these other people whizzing past?

Without getting hit by a car?

Or hitting someone myself?

Be responsible for it so that it doesn’t get stolen?

Ummm ok!

New bike - Dutch status confirmed

So after “walking it” ½ way home like a coward, I turned down a quiet street with not a soul to be found and hopped on.

I learned how to "cycle" (two wheels, official) in San Francisco, green and black Toys-R-US bike, my bro cheering me on when the training wheels came off.

I HAD this. No fear right?

Once I got going, the wind in my afro (you can all relate right?) it was incredible to be in the flow, in the stream, keeping pace with all of these other strangers and moving so deliberately.

And now I’m accustomed to a certain lifestyle –
A non-helmet wearing (my Dutch friends promise I'll never gain my respect back if I do), hand signalling, bell ringing lifestyle.

Brand spanking new bike! That I only fell off of twice in the span of "test-riding".

Assuming no accidents it'll be a great semester!

Two Dutch friends riding ahead of me while casually balancing suitcases

#dutchlife indeed.