As of yesterday, February 16 2007, I can really pretend to be Dutch, because I got a bike. I wasn't initially planning on buying one, envisioning terrible crashes with other bikers or cars or pedestrians. One of my friends here actually crashed his bike in order to avoid hitting some pigeons that flew up suddenly in his face. Walking seemed much safer, but after a friend from home who is also studying abroad here got one and started swearing up and down about how great it was, and after wishing I could bike around in the nice weather, I decided to get one. This is easier said than done. My friend and I went to the bike store where he'd gotten his bike, and discovered an inherent problem in buying a bike for me in this country: I'm apparently too short. More specifically, my legs are too short. I need a low bike without too much distance between the seat and the handlebars. Such a bike is hard to find in the Land of Really Tall Skinny Beautiful People. After trying to sit on a dozen or so bikes, I started to look hard at the children's bikes.
We did find one bike that fit me (an adult’s bike, even!), but it was 120 euros and I just couldn't decide if it was worth it to me. So yesterday, my friend and I went to the market at Waterlooplein. This is one of the three major markets in Amsterdam, and it's basically a flea market with vendors under tents selling everything from knickknacks to new converses to old zip drives. It's pretty interesting. There were two bike dealers there, and my cowardice led my friend (purely out of selfish motives, as he asserts, because he wanted me to get a bike very badly) to talk to the dealers for me. I’m not entirely sure why I was shy around the bike dealers when I haven’t been shy about talking to anyone else, but I have a suspicion it was due to the knowledge that none of the bikes would fit me and I would feel silly and short (and I’m 5’6” – I’m not even that short!). The first guy didn't have very many bikes, and only one was short enough for me. It was such a junker - covered in rust, with a bright blue plastic basket awkwardly stuck on with tape, and held together with rubber bands. The brakes weren't very good either, so I thanked the guy for his time and went to the other dealer. This guy was pretty hilarious and there was another girl shopping for a bike and trying on every other bike so I felt less awkward about trying to climb on to several bikes. My friend suggested I try a certain bike, and it actually fit. I rode it around a bit (the dealer really encouraged me to do so and joked that he'd keep my friend as insurance), and then decided to just buy it. I couldn't really handle shopping any more, and this one seemed fine.
So I am the proud owner of a dark green Gazelle bicycle.
I walked it most of the way home so I could be with my friend, but this is an exceedingly difficult thing to do. If you think walking around the city can be difficult because of all the slow pedestrians and the parked bikes all over the sidewalks, try walking a bike. I eventually gave up in frustration and biked the rest of the way home. It was fun, much faster than walking and I didn’t crash into anything! I feel so Dutch now.