The more romantic side of my nature has always contended that I was born on the wrong continent. I loved eating olives, baguettes and Brie cheese more than I ever loved a Big Mac or super-sized fries.
Delen
Certainly this was irrefutable proof that I was in fact a European soul trapped inside a North American’s body!
When the opportunity to move to the Netherlands arose, I of course literally jumped at the chance, thinking I’d fit right in. But having been here for nearly two months now and feeling on a daily basis that I’ve not just landed in another country but on another planet altogether, I’m forced to reassess my original theory. And nothing attests to this more than my absolute failure at navigating around Delft on a bicycle.
For all you engineers out there, I’m sure you’re all familiar with the basic components of a bicycle: two wheels, a chain, pedals and steering mechanism, held together by a metal frame. The principle of the bike is to get a person from Point A to Point B in a fine, easy fashion. It’s a small wonder then how I can take such an incredibly simple machine and turn it into a death trap on wheels! Fortunately for me, there have been no deaths or serious injuries suffered as yet – simply many bad cases of injured pride.
On numerous occasions I’ve run into curbs and fallen off my bike, prompting many stares and smirks, but few offers of help from passersby. And I continually end up on the wrong side of the street, facing oncoming bike traffic and being told off in Dutch for disobeying a multitude of bicycling rules. Naturally, I cannot use my bike bell, as this would be completely impolite and therefore completely un-Canadian!
The biggest menace on the roads are the little school-age children who I’m convinced are all shouting obscenities at me and laughing at my white-knuckled panic as they arrogantly pedal past without so much as a finger on the handlebars!
While lying on the ground after my latest fall from grace, I was completely demoralized as I watched women zooming by carrying groceries, flowers and numerous kids, while effortlessly navigating past cars, other bikes and pedestrians. One woman even found a free hand to munch on an apple while singing a song to the two kids she had on the front and back of her bike! My utter humiliation was complete however when, biking home and nursing my wounded pride, a 93-year-old, half-blind Dutch man passed me on his bike!
Although I’ve yet to actually lock myself to my bike, I did manage to get my hair snagged on the handlebars of a neighboring bicycle! And the more I bicycle, the worse it seems to get, so please, dear readers, if you see a small, brown-haired, blue-eyed girl barreling toward you out of control on a seemingly possessed bicycle, in the wrong lane, going the wrong way and apologizing profusely, do us both a favor: get out of her way!
Erin Lynch is from Canada
The more romantic side of my nature has always contended that I was born on the wrong continent. I loved eating olives, baguettes and Brie cheese more than I ever loved a Big Mac or super-sized fries. Certainly this was irrefutable proof that I was in fact a European soul trapped inside a North American’s body!
When the opportunity to move to the Netherlands arose, I of course literally jumped at the chance, thinking I’d fit right in. But having been here for nearly two months now and feeling on a daily basis that I’ve not just landed in another country but on another planet altogether, I’m forced to reassess my original theory. And nothing attests to this more than my absolute failure at navigating around Delft on a bicycle.
For all you engineers out there, I’m sure you’re all familiar with the basic components of a bicycle: two wheels, a chain, pedals and steering mechanism, held together by a metal frame. The principle of the bike is to get a person from Point A to Point B in a fine, easy fashion. It’s a small wonder then how I can take such an incredibly simple machine and turn it into a death trap on wheels! Fortunately for me, there have been no deaths or serious injuries suffered as yet – simply many bad cases of injured pride.
On numerous occasions I’ve run into curbs and fallen off my bike, prompting many stares and smirks, but few offers of help from passersby. And I continually end up on the wrong side of the street, facing oncoming bike traffic and being told off in Dutch for disobeying a multitude of bicycling rules. Naturally, I cannot use my bike bell, as this would be completely impolite and therefore completely un-Canadian!
The biggest menace on the roads are the little school-age children who I’m convinced are all shouting obscenities at me and laughing at my white-knuckled panic as they arrogantly pedal past without so much as a finger on the handlebars!
While lying on the ground after my latest fall from grace, I was completely demoralized as I watched women zooming by carrying groceries, flowers and numerous kids, while effortlessly navigating past cars, other bikes and pedestrians. One woman even found a free hand to munch on an apple while singing a song to the two kids she had on the front and back of her bike! My utter humiliation was complete however when, biking home and nursing my wounded pride, a 93-year-old, half-blind Dutch man passed me on his bike!
Although I’ve yet to actually lock myself to my bike, I did manage to get my hair snagged on the handlebars of a neighboring bicycle! And the more I bicycle, the worse it seems to get, so please, dear readers, if you see a small, brown-haired, blue-eyed girl barreling toward you out of control on a seemingly possessed bicycle, in the wrong lane, going the wrong way and apologizing profusely, do us both a favor: get out of her way!
Erin Lynch is from Canada
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