Cycling Woes

A few weeks ago, I underwent a traditional Dutch rite of passage—having my bike stolen by junkies—and can proudly boast that I am now a true Amsterdammer. Ironically, I had been talking about it a few hours before it happened to a girl who owned an expensive bike. Seems she had an expensive lock, too. This is clearly a lesson for Next Time, when Dara buys a sturdy and costly lock. Perhaps Karma was playing its hand because I actually got the bike from junkies (another Amsterdam tradition) so who knows, maybe the same toothless, heroin-smoking desperado stole it again, having full knowledge from the first time.

Amsterdam is quite big when you have to walk everywhere. No subways in my neighborhood so it’s just me, Moroccan housewives and children trundling along surface streets. This has given me a fresh perspective on the neighborhood, though, because I used to just whiz past everything and now I’ve spotted a few more places to spend those lotto winnings whenever they materialize...