I consider myself I fairly good cycler –I mean common, how complicated is it to ride a bike anyways?! But yesterday morning I received a crash course in the rules of the road on a Dutch bike path.
Of course one of the main annoyances to watch out for when cycling is the “always-opening-at-an-inconvenient-time” draws bridges. In Amsterdam there are estimated to be over 1300 bridges—and quite a few of the drawbridge variety. (This is to accommodate large boats/ships passing through the canals).
Yesterday I was running a bit late on my way to work, and of course, I had to be stopped by the painfully slow opening of a drawbridge. The time delay isn’t the most annoying factor, it’s more the build up of cyclists that accumulates waiting for the bridge to lower. After 5 minutes of waiting, dozens of cyclist were now huddled into a small mob around me. Trust me; it’s more difficult that it looks to bike in the rain, in a pack of determined, over zealous Dutch bikers. You have to dodge the grandpas peddling far too slow, the zooming mopeds who think they can drive on the bike lanes, the old lades driving their toy cars (yes tiny cars, and I mean tiny, are allowed to cruise on the bike paths), and of course the other fearless bikers zooming by.
After I finally separated myself from the mob I realized --far too late--that the woman inches in front of me had decided to come to a crashing halt in the middle of the lane. I swerved to avoid her, but only cleared her enough to slam myself into her back wheels, barely avoiding wiping out entirely. She was very apologetic, in a dazed and confused sort of way, but sorry just doesn’t cut it when you have a swollen painful knee, dirty wet jeans, and a 15 minute trek left to cycle.
I guess the whole biking thing was going far too well. I had mastered the bike signals, the bike lanes, the bike lights (mandatory to wear after dark), biking with an obscene amount of things, doubling, dodging trams/buses, yelling at tourists, and even the most advanced skill; chatting on a mobile while biking . I guess a minor mishap was bound to happen sooner or later. Don't be fooled though, I haven't been succesfully discouraged yet!
P.S. Bike pics from the excellent site of photographer Frank Lee. See www.flee.com for a series of Amsterdam bike pics.
Last week I spotted a dance school across the street from my new apartment. Having danced for 13 odd years, and missing it desperately, I decided to take a peek inside. As I stepped into the building I was immediately transported to the 60s. The dance school has been around for years, and clearly hasn’t had a facelift in decades. At first I thought maybe I had read the sign incorrectly, as I attempted to peer through the thick cigar smoke. Was I in yet another smoky Dutch pub?? Nope, this was indeed a dance school. Past the counter, kegs of Heineken and bars stools, couples were spinning away.
I learnt from the owner and namesake of the school, that they held an advanced tap class on Saturday mornings. Having taken tap for a few years, I decided to come take a look at the class and see what it was about.
Saturday morning I dragged my butt out of bed and headed across the street. After being directed to the tap class, I immediately realized what I had got myself into. The tap teacher was in her sixities—and had that very typical look of an aged Broadway star—full stage make up and hair at 9am on a Saturday morning! Having become accustomed to the Dutch gruffness I wasn’t at all put off when the first thing she barked at me was “We are all ex- professional tap stars here. I won’t be slowing down this class for anyone! If you can’t keep up with us, then this class is clearly not for you—which I believe is the case!” Hmmm....I wasn’t expecting a warm welcoming, but it was too early in the morning for insults! Did I mention that by “us” she was referring to the two, yes 2, other people in the class. A 75 year old man, and a woman in her mid fifties. Yes, I’d say the combined age was close to 200 years old!
The teacher told me to sit at the front of the class, and continued muttering that this wasn’t a class for me. I felt like leaving, but was now curious to see this motley crew was made of. As the music started I was more than impressed---could these folks ever dance!! After about 15 minutes the teacher left the room and came back with a pair of tap shoes in her hands. As I saw her marching towards me I prayed they weren’t for me. She shoved them in my hands, and said “so, show us if you can dance”. Clearly there was no way out of this one.
I put on the shoes, and did a couple of shuffles. It had literally been close to a decade since I had done tap, and I started to panic and scanned for the nearest exit. Could I make it to the door in time?
“Do a time step” she shouted over the music. I did, and she nodded. “Now, a double time step”. “Now a triple!”
She nodded, thought for a minute, and then said “Do this” and broke into step. I quickly attempted to imitate her steps. “Now this!” tap tap tap tap “And this.” tap tap tap tapp tapp.
Suddenly I was having an odd sort of “dance off” in the middle of Amsterdam,in an odd pub/school with an ex dancing queen. After a few more requests she abruptly stopped. “Well, she said—you can join the class, stand with the others”. Apparently I had passed her test. She nodded in approval, the older man winked, and I spent the next hour and a half tapping away, and having a great time! Until next week....
