I watched this happen.
While waiting for the ferry last night, I witnessed one bicyclist, en route to the Buiksloterwegveer Ferry (adjacent to my own “Ij Plein”), T-boned another bike being walked alone by its driver towards the Ij Plein ferry. There were no variables involved here. No pedestrians to be suddenly avoided or a rush to get to the ferry as the gangplank was raised. The weather was even fair (much unlike tonight where it’s snowing. I can’t avoid it). No, with only witnesses surrounding the immediate area, this woman plowed directly into the center of an essentially immobile bicycle, knocking it over to the point that the plastic covering the chain cracked and was left dangling from the pedal.
Being a Bostonian, I can’t help but rubber-neck, a cultural norm which is not lost on the Dutch. We all waited to catch a glimpse of the scorn the bike’s owner was certain to demonstrate with a well-executed stink eye and perhaps a select word or two. Surely, the broken bike and his own discomfort (having been knocked over in the process) would certainly warrant such a reaction, after all, trams avoid bikes better than this girl.
But no: he laughed. He stood up, looked at the offender, and laughed. My Dutch isn’t very good, but I’m pretty sure he even apologized, the proceeded to force the rest of the shattered plastic from the chain and went over to meet up with his buddy and continue to laugh and recount the scene.
Toto, we aren’t in Kansas anymore.
Damn…that analogy doesn’t work for me since Ben (another IF-er) is actually FROM Kansas. And judging from the pictures he and Dan have posted, the Scarecrow was trying to point to Prague.
Anyway, back to Amsterdam.
It’s school vacation week, and the Dutch take vacations like it is their job (….wait) so even if I DID want to be a tourist today (and I DID have every intention of seeing the Picasso exhibit at the van Gogh museum) I couldn’t. Time for another round of “Dutch Mafia.”
I followed only one bicyclist today before arriving at a street vendor that I keep passing by train and meaning to pay a visit. Lucky me the merchant specialized in herring, a Dutch delicacy, which I am more than ok with. Determined to put some of my Dutch into practice (again, not good) I placed my first order in the native tongue: “een haring alstublieft.” Apparently I must have said it correctly (though I question my spelling [of course I looked it up]) because the vendor responded with Dutch….
Now normally, you can try speaking Dutch and they appreciate it, but to be nice, they will respond in English, knowing you wouldn’t know the response anyway. However, the problem is, even when I DO manage a correct Dutch phrase, he will respond in Dutch and I still won’t know what he is saying. Hoping not to tip my hand, I thought ahead and knowing that the next part of the cadence is usually “would you like pickles and onions?” I nodded politely and mumbled an English, “yes, please.”
…Apparently that wasn’t an option. He had been asking if I wanted it for here or to go, but my constant approval and nods were not enough to convey that I did want it here (with pickles and onions…) and the jig was up. The rest of the conversation was in English.
Toto, I’m not ordering wings in Boston anymore.
...despite the snow.
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