I Want to Ride My Bicycle

Tada!! Feast your eyes on my stylin’ “cycle.” Here she is, my ladies bicycle, in all her glory. For the past month and a half, I have been riding this baby to and from work, the store, friend’s flats, aaand…that’s about it. In another month and a half, I will have made up the difference between the cost of riding to work in an auto and the cost of the cycle itself; but including weekend travels, I’m pretty sure the difference will be made up much earlier.

Having my own transportation has brought me so much joy. When I do have to play the haggling game with an auto driver, I am less easily frustrated and actually find it fun on occasion. The biggest drawbacks, so far, are: 1) the amount of dirt and exhaust I inhale during even my short rides to/from the office; 2) the layer of “air” (when you can FEEL it, it deserves quotation marks) that covers my face all day; and 3) the fact that I fear for my life at every turn. But, in reality, the pros far outweigh such cons: 1) my prayer life has expanded exponentially (more so for the others on the road than me-that no one else would be hurt by my lack of experience on these streets); 2) again, the freedom of movement has opened up so many doors-I’ve found new grocery stores and understand the lay of the land much better; 3) I feel more a part of the life here, as being so exposed allows me to interact more with nationals; 4) the nationals are (for the most part) extremely amused at my attempts to cycle; 5) the activity makes me feel much less sedentary (it’s a form of exercise that creates natural air-conditioning…something very much lacking at the speed I run)...

It has also made me appreciate being a foreigner more than anything else. A white girl on an ostentatious cycle, while most likely annoying, is rather conspicuous. Whereas the stares normally get old, I’m fairly certain they have saved my life time and again. People will slow down until I’m safely across the intersection, rather than blasting their horns (which would be more the norm). Bystanders warn other drivers of my presence when my little bell just won’t cut it. And, luckily, they seem to be more forgiving of my foibles. Let’s hope that lasts!