When people ask me what I'll miss most about living in Amsterdam, my automatic response is cycling to work. Following Friday's 30 minutes of icy hell, I'd like to change my answer. What did I encounter en route to the office? Rain - horizontal and icy. Winds that drove my bike sideways. Hail - ouch! Thunder and lightning - very very frightening. And, to top it off, a 20-metre long pedal-deep puddle in the Vondelpark that filled my shoes with icy water and mud for the final 10 minutes. Mmmm - squelchy. Thank God for colleagues who keep spare pairs of socks at their desks for just such an emergency.
However, what didn't I encounter on my hellish ride in? Dutchies! Don't be fooled by the Cloggies telling you that they cycle regardless of the weather: It's lies, all lies - I passed only a handful of hardy souls/idiots, and the buses and trams were packed. This goes hand in hand with the other 'fiets' legend - only expats get their bikes fixed by professionals, because every Dutchie is born with the inate ability to repair their chain using just their teeth (their hands being occupied with their fags and mobiles). If that were the case, why is there a bike shop on every corner? Offering such lousy service that it makes you wish you could master the teeth-chain interface, but still - we can't be supporting them all, can we? No, it's just another myth put about to make gullible expats feel bad (along with the language, the tax office, and the housing market).
Bitter, moi? Just a little.
I'm reading: The Light Of Day, Graham Swift.
I'm watching: Rome (BBC/HBO).
I'm cooking: Celery and blue cheese soup.
