City Rhythms

It was late morning on a bright spring day; I could hear the encouraging silvery peal of the church bells, one of my favourite city sounds in Amsterdam. I took a deep breath and hopped on to my bike for the first time.
Coming from Cape Town, where street cycling is dangerous and cyclists barely tolerated, to Amsterdam where the cyclist rules, was a revelation. I may have learnt to ride growing up, but the Dutch are born on the bike.
For many weeks I could only watch in awe as I saw the Amsterdammers glide past effortlessly, too intimidated to join them but longing to. I would see elegant young women cycling in heels, coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other, a shoulder raised, pressing their phones to their ears so they could chat animatedly while they cycled hands-free with seemingly no strain at all. Parents, grandparents and nannies could be seen riding a bakfiets, a bicycle with a large wooden compartment in front, where anything up to five little children could fit comfortably inside, squealing with delight as the world zoomed by. Couples would hold hands while they moved easily down quiet streets, somehow keeping their speed while leaning in for a kiss. Seeing a man cycling at a remarkable pace whipping off his jacket having become warm from the exercise, while somehow still managing to cling to his groceries, stopped me mid-thought and mid-step – I may never cycle with that agility but it was time I tried.
Fortunately, there is a never-ending supply of bicycles, even some that were once lost to the canals but were then rescued during the annual scour of the waterways. Recycled bikes are everywhere – you could end up buying the same bicycle that went ‘missing’ weeks ago. I started hunting for a bike of my own which proved to be more difficult than expected – to my dismay I was too short for the traditional, omafiets. Several promising ads and a couple of disappointments later, I found my bike – it was time.
I started just off busy Prinsengracht canal, the ideal place to take the plunge on that spring day. Cycling gently but with concentration, the cobblestones created a vibration under my rotating wheels which was exhilarating in a way I wasn’t expecting. A sense of empowerment and elation overcame me and I realized my fear had been silly. I had been missing out! I pedalled leisurely, just trying to take it all in, with a new appreciation for its beauty – colours were richer, sounds became melodic. This is how it felt to be an Amsterdammer!