Travelling ex-expat

I was scared. Concerned I’d fall. So what if people said it was simple, easy, natural? I wasn’t a child any longer and I had no idea where to start. But I was immersed in the nation who does it more than any other. I was learning to cycle at 23 in the Netherlands.

My nerves had influenced my logic for almost two years already, since I first moved to the Low Lands. It was one of those things that I knew was somehow inevitable but my willpower fought to retain my dignity and safety. Fear triumphed over logic. Yet it was inescapable.

Cycling fits the Netherlands like a glove fits a hand. It’s in the blood of most Dutch people. I had set it on a pedestal of being the ultimate test of my integration in the Netherlands.

So I took the plunge.

All it took me was one lesson. Shallow puddles and auburn leaves formed my obstacle course on a primary school playground. A fitting place to learn what all Dutch children learn. To start from the beginning and push myself towards my goal.

I couldn’t be stopped after that. I felt like a small child, with a new toy in my hands. I absorbed the joy of the moment and pushed myself to keep going. I was never going to stop cycling!

And then I got to a road.

Oh boy, this was something to deal with. How would I overcome so many parallel obstacles? I couldn’t know where cars, pedestrians or other cyclists would come or go. So I headed for a public park, The Hague’s Zuiderpark. A safe haven. First I’d have to traverse a few side streets. This would be do-able.

Navigating past the hustle and bustle and chatter of children leaving a local school was my first challenge, but I felt a spring in my step to finally be able to do this most Dutch of things and cycle to the park.

Until, in an instant, I was forced to make my first emergency stop…and I pulled to that stop into a steaming pile of doggy doo-doo. I felt a crack beginning in the bubble of excitement that was surrounding me. I let the children pass in front of me, looking away in order to hide the shame on my face. I took a deep breath and suddenly I was back.

There was only one road to cross to reach the park, and the traffic had seemed to disappear. I glided into the Zuiderpark, down the hill and took a deep breath, filled with pure happiness.