I want to ride my bicycle...I want to ride my bike.

For added ambiance while you read this post... 

I live in a complex in the town of Lent which is about 30 minutes from the university and 10 minutes from the city center with all the stores and restaurants. I learned quickly that any amount of time estimated to get somewhere assumes that you are riding a bicycle. In all seriousness, you could not survive in this city without owning a working bike. I would spend at least an hour walking to the University, not to mention coming home. Also, every European I have talked to abbreviates University to “Uni” but I have yet to adjust to that because I can’t stop picturing a unibrow. 

To get to the city, I bike over a big bridge which is also used by trains. There is a separate bridge for cars - it's the silver arc in the background of the picture on the left. I don’t mind the weather here that much, even the cold, but wind makes biking miserable. The Lent bridge (I’m not sure if that’s the real name but it’s what the students call it), where I took all the pictures below, is a death trap on windy days.

Snow'n on the bridge

Icy river

B-E-A-utiful city

The bridge spits me out by the train station which feeds into many different bike paths to campus. There aren’t many hills, but each way has one or two and that’s often how I pick my route. Example: Do I feel like going up a hill on the way to campus or on the way home? More often than not, I pick the first option. Kind of like the bad-news-first outlook.

Bike paths line either side of every road and drivers (of cars) are very respectful; they yield constantly to bikers and even offer the right-of-way. Bike lanes work like car lanes. You always drive on the right side of the road so that faster bikers can pass on the left. Before passing someone, I believe the courteous move is to ring the small bell on the handlebars to signal your approach. I haven’t ever  verbally corroborated this theory, but it coincides with my monkey-see-monkey-do philosophy I’ve adopted since moving to Europe. 

I fall off my bike quite a lot. When I tried to buy a bike, the shop didn't have bikes short enough for me (Dutch people are very tall) and the owner tried to sell me a kids bike. I refused for no good reason and now ride a bike which is slightly too tall for me -- aka I wobble over. I don't usually fall completely, I just do a couple stutter steps and sometimes a few quick running leaps to catch myself and my bike before we both hit the pavement. My flatmate Harry made me laugh so hard I fell on the ground, I've skidded in snow and slush quite a few times, and if I try to put my glove on while riding I'm sure to topple over. I have yet to sneeze, but I'm praying I don't because I know I'll eat it. 

According to a police officer here, one million bikes get stolen each year. I bought a lock for my bike but if someone really wants to steal it, cutting the lock won’t be very difficult. Also, bikes are required to have lights for night driving. If you are caught without lights on your bike during nighttime hours, you have to pay a 50-euro fine. Yikes! 

And finally, a few of the countless bike racks within the Netherlands!

Me and my life-line