A little over a month in now. Welcome to
life in Sweden. Never mind that is 4.30 am and I can’t sleep. But that’s a sob
story for another day. Well, what do you want to know? Class is class. Life is
life. Friends are being made. I am slowly sorting out my shit, but that’s just
a never ending mess and a constant work in progress (I feel like that Greek guy
who forever has to push a boulder up a hill when it comes to sorting out my
shit - Sisyphus). But, I have invested in a bicycle. It’s the little things, ya
know. Although, I say that, but my bicycle isn’t actually that small (nor was
it a small purchase).
Ooooh, a castle
The sun shines here too
Anyway, I have discovered that my bike
riding skills really do leave a little to be desired. For starters, I can’t
ride in a straight line. Just in general. Even if I am completely sober and at
my most functional. Then there is the bike itself. Turns out that bikes here
are set up differently to all the other ones I have ever ridden in NZ. Swedish
bikes have one hand brake and one back (pedal) brake. The one hand brake is on
the left hand side of the handle bars and is the front tyre brake. Completely
throwing all of my ingrained childhood beliefs about how a bike is (and most
definitely SHOULD) be set up out the window, having only ever ridden NZ bikes
with two hand brakes of which the back brake was on the left of the handle bars
and the front on the right. Figuring out the braking system has left me very
close to (and yes, unfortunately sometimes completely) pitching over the handle
bars. And then, yesterday, I discovered (after letting someone else ride my
bicycle) that my front tyre and the handle bars aren’t aligned at all, so to
ride in a straight line, I had to have sideways handle bars. Still haven’t
gotten this one fixed, but I am ever hopeful that this might fix all of my bike
riding problems…
Something European
Same thing from another angle (#perspective)
But it gets worse, because if the bicycle
itself doesn’t kill me, there are plenty of other hazards out and about trying
to ruin my life. Nobody ever talks about how the road rules are different when
they talk about the charm of biking around a European city. And I can tell you
that there is nothing charming about being tooted at and yelled at out the
window in loud, aggressive Swedish for biking the wrong way around a round
about, cutting a little too close to a car, and my personal favourite; not
saying thanks when a car let’s you go. And then, there are these nasty little
beasties in this part of the world, smaller than a sandfly, more conniving and
just borderline dangerous in general. You’ll be puddling along, minding your
own bloody business when out of nowhere, BAM, a little beastie decides it likes
the look of your face, your eye, or your esophagus. This leads to minutes of
trying to extract said beastie from whichever part of your body it has tried to
invade.
Tropical island paradise
Trees...
If you manage to ride your bike in a
straight enough line as to avoid the traffic, remembered not to touch that hand
brake, kept your mouth shut and been the most courteous and (falsely) pleasant
person thanking all the passers by then you’re doing well. And I don’t want to
belittle my achievement of not having died yet, but there is one more thing
that requires some work. You see, to truly appear European, you have to arrive
at university looking your best. Except I, without
fail arrive at university dripping
with sweat. It doesn’t matter if I bike as slowly as I possibly can (which is an
entirely different challenge altogether). It usually takes me about 30 minutes
to stop sweating, chill the fuck out and calm the fuck down. Which is actually
pretty traumatic, especially while sitting next to all these Europeans who look
like they’ve just walked off a Vogue runway. I’m going for feral New Zealander
look. I think I’ve got it down pretty well.
Not my house
Such are the real and unadulterated struggles
of living in a European city that you never hear about. If you want to talk to
me about your own similar struggles, just flick me a message. I hear that there
is strength in numbers and we people who are tormented by these bloody bicycles
need to stick together; it’s a big ol’ world out there.
And that's a big ol' wall.
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