Finally! The summer returned to this rainy city, and it returned with a vengeance.
Yesterday morning I woke up in pool of sweat as the sun was precisely aiming to bounce off my windowsill and roast me at 6 in the morning. A nice change to last week, when everybody agreed that Holland migrated to hang out in the Southern hemisphere this year.
The Bicycle Adventure
In the kitchen, my housemate suddenly asked if I wanted to go to Vondelpark with her to laze in the sun with some friends. Vondelpark is an enormous park in the middle of Amsterdam where you can
find most of the city on the rare warm weather days, on the rest of the
days you will find runners and cyclists. It is definitely a place to
visit in Amsterdam, it has a few cafes, bars and even a theatre within
it, and is very popular for barbecues and group meetup events. I quickly agreed and then she asked if I'd like to use her second bike to get there.
Here's the deal, since a car accident at the end of last summer, I had already decided that traffic and I will just have to live separate lives. I have been walking and using trains/trams all year. There are plenty of bike/scooter bike/motorbike and bike/car accidents here, one very brutal one occurred outside our office last month, where a colleague had to drag a cyclist from under an unsuspecting truck. The details of that event freaked the remaining sanity out of me for a while. However, all of Amsterdam is still cycling.
Since we arrived, the said housemate learned how to ride a bike and without any hesitation joined the majority of the city's residents in pedalling to work, while I have been cycling since I was a 4 years old and felt like a darn coward. So I agreed. She told me it was a bike her sister was using when she visited, and since we are about the same height it should be perfect for me, but alas, same hight does not mean same leg length, her sister has model proportions.
Outside, the sun beat mercilessly, and we had donned our bikinis and summer dresses for the road. It took me 5 very graceless minutes to unlock two chains and get the bicycle out of the designated parking rack where some bikes stand for years, forgotten or damaged and abandoned, but catching on your brake cables every way they can.
It was after I accidentally flashed my bright blue bikini crotch while getting onto the obscenely tall bike, did a kind, Dutch gentleman point out that although the bike is a "men's" bike (straight, sporty frame as opposed to the "women's" curved frame bike) and slightly too big for me, but he can lower the seat further (news to me and my housemate who believed that the seat was at its complete lowest). He also pointed out the chain was loose and the brakes were too tight, so he quickly fixed it up, while I went back upstairs to put some shorts on to save my remaining dignity.
The reason the bike was in such terrible condition is because most bikes in Amsterdam are stolen and resold numerous times, so by the time my housemate's sister came to buy it for 20 euros it probably had a long list of abusive owners, including a few drug addicts (another reason why they are sold for 10 to 20 euros).
After the neighbour lowered the seat I was amazed by what a huge difference a couple of millimetres did for me! I could actually cycle now! With my housemate ahead of me, a hundred metres from our starting point, a taxi almost hit me (cyclists and taxis natural enemies in the city), but all was well, we peddled away. I stuck to the right side of the cycling path to let the small scooters and faster cyclists past. It was important to stay aware of them and the wandering tourists who do not differentiate cycling paths to pedestrian paths, which is why having a bell is vital. Cycling lanes also have designated traffic lights at crossings with very short time lapses. When turning at these crosses it is vital to cross tram tracks diagonally, as they are perfectly sized for getting your wheel stuck and possibly bending it (not even mentioning the danger of trams).
We successfully got to Vondelpark, where the cyclist traffic is much higher on a Saturday than it is on the streets, once again, the bell comes useful in the dreamy, serene environment where visitors get distracted by art installation and the birds of Amsterdam.
We locked our bikes on a single lock and sprawled out at the side of a pond to relax and enjoy the weather. After an hour of sunbathing, the girls suggested we go to the Roest. I had no clue what that was but agreed because I was excited to test my new found urban cycling ability.
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Amsterdam Shabamsterdam. The Move.
As I mentioned previously, I have moved my butt to Holland/The Netherlands/Kingdom of Pancakes.
This move happened as suddenly and as thoughtlessly as all my previous relocations. Got an opportunity and grabbed it. I followed my disbelieving routine and until I saw the Bombardier Q400, that was to fly me to Schipol Airport, with its adorable propellers, I doubt that any of that information sunk in.
For the first two nights I stayed in the historical centre of Amsterdam, overlooking a canal. The weather was warm (it's actually psychotic) and the people were friendly. I find it important to state because, aside from the fact that the vast majority of Dutch residents of Amsterdam speak (perfect) English, there can be a cultural barrier. People come back with very mixed views from Amsterdam, claiming that people are either rude or the perfectly friendly hosts. It's sort of both. I find that when it comes to customer services, don't expect much ass-kissery as a foreigner. Amsterdam is a city with the highest nationality count residing here, and tourists are mainly here for the weed and the Red Light district. So the Amsterdam-Dutch are generally not bothered to deal with you and your demands as a customer with a forced smile and politeness. That being said, the other side of this coin is it is usually very easy to start talking to people and be upfront. I genuinely hate complaining or asking blunt questions in restaurants or shops because I like being polite and have a thing about fearing to hurt someone's feelings. Here there is no problem because folks are completely grounded and there is an air of realism to them. This is obviously nothing more than a personal observation.
Anyway.
The centre was a great place to stay at for the first few days. As usual, I had no problem transitioning to the new location. This is mainly because of the boats outside my window. I love anything and everything to do with boats and still write dreamy poetry when passing various canals on my way to work. Every single day. The following week I had moved (or rather, "have been relocated") into an area known as the Pijp (full of restaurants and small shops, across the street from the biggest market in the city). The scary part was moving in with the other female interns, then diving head first into a workload I only thought existed in movie montages, in films like The Devil Wears Prada. After I'd finish working on whatever jobs were assigned to me during the day, I'd stay late working on my degree project. I would come home from the office so late that my lovely housemates had a theory that I was actually out having affairs with older men.
No, I don't understand it either.
It was stressful and coming home to such elaborate gossip was just alienating. Fortunately, I ended up building a stronger bond with my work team and finished my degree far better than I had expected myself to! I believe that the geometrical facades of the buildings, the abundance of trees and the cinematic composition of the city and its people kept me far too inspired to give up on anything, even when they days were ridiculously taxing. Aside from bachelors and romantically adventurous couples, Amsterdam is the perfect city for European workaholics!
Until quite recently, I hadn't been able to walk about and get lost in the city, but I started jogging again and had guests over, and as we all know, guests and jogging are the best way to force yourself to explore the city you live in... Or at least come face to face with how little you know about the city you live in...
Stay tuned.
This move happened as suddenly and as thoughtlessly as all my previous relocations. Got an opportunity and grabbed it. I followed my disbelieving routine and until I saw the Bombardier Q400, that was to fly me to Schipol Airport, with its adorable propellers, I doubt that any of that information sunk in.
For the first two nights I stayed in the historical centre of Amsterdam, overlooking a canal. The weather was warm (it's actually psychotic) and the people were friendly. I find it important to state because, aside from the fact that the vast majority of Dutch residents of Amsterdam speak (perfect) English, there can be a cultural barrier. People come back with very mixed views from Amsterdam, claiming that people are either rude or the perfectly friendly hosts. It's sort of both. I find that when it comes to customer services, don't expect much ass-kissery as a foreigner. Amsterdam is a city with the highest nationality count residing here, and tourists are mainly here for the weed and the Red Light district. So the Amsterdam-Dutch are generally not bothered to deal with you and your demands as a customer with a forced smile and politeness. That being said, the other side of this coin is it is usually very easy to start talking to people and be upfront. I genuinely hate complaining or asking blunt questions in restaurants or shops because I like being polite and have a thing about fearing to hurt someone's feelings. Here there is no problem because folks are completely grounded and there is an air of realism to them. This is obviously nothing more than a personal observation.
Anyway.
The centre was a great place to stay at for the first few days. As usual, I had no problem transitioning to the new location. This is mainly because of the boats outside my window. I love anything and everything to do with boats and still write dreamy poetry when passing various canals on my way to work. Every single day. The following week I had moved (or rather, "have been relocated") into an area known as the Pijp (full of restaurants and small shops, across the street from the biggest market in the city). The scary part was moving in with the other female interns, then diving head first into a workload I only thought existed in movie montages, in films like The Devil Wears Prada. After I'd finish working on whatever jobs were assigned to me during the day, I'd stay late working on my degree project. I would come home from the office so late that my lovely housemates had a theory that I was actually out having affairs with older men.
No, I don't understand it either.
It was stressful and coming home to such elaborate gossip was just alienating. Fortunately, I ended up building a stronger bond with my work team and finished my degree far better than I had expected myself to! I believe that the geometrical facades of the buildings, the abundance of trees and the cinematic composition of the city and its people kept me far too inspired to give up on anything, even when they days were ridiculously taxing. Aside from bachelors and romantically adventurous couples, Amsterdam is the perfect city for European workaholics!
Until quite recently, I hadn't been able to walk about and get lost in the city, but I started jogging again and had guests over, and as we all know, guests and jogging are the best way to force yourself to explore the city you live in... Or at least come face to face with how little you know about the city you live in...
Stay tuned.
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