This Year's Good Decision

Just me and the barges along the River Rhine.

Do you like loud bar noises all through the night? How about streets strewn with broken bottles and puke? Drunks everywhere, peeing in doorways and shouting German at passers-by? Then I humbly recommend renting a flat in Dusseldorf's Altstadt.

A 21-year-old me might have loved it here, but not the 33-year-old me who needs beauty rest and likes reading a book in the evenings.

Its only advantage, aside from the central location, is its proximity to the Rhine River. Every morning I walked to work along the river and every evening I returned home along this route.

In the mornings, it's just you and the fog and the river barges. In the evening, weather depending, it's you and the runners and the dog walkers and the tourists and the homeless afternoon drinkers with the fog and the river barges.

I did this all throughout the Rhenish 'winter,' which is really just a cold, windy and rainy day that lasts until the spring. 

Stepping onto a stuffy tram and subway car in the middle of winter so you can be dropped off in front of your office for a day of indoor office stuff is one of life's truly soul crushing experiences. It's a relief to shake your legs and step outside with just your two feet and a heart beat (and the appropriate amount of clothing) and walk along one of Europe's mightiest rivers to the office. 

When we finally fled the Altstadt to less rowdier environs, I joined the soul crushees on the tram to the office. That only lasted a few months before I bought a Dutch Cruiser for Kata's birthday, and nifty street beast for myself.

I have mastered the bike commute to work, once again. But the real thrill has been taking out our bikes for pedalling adventures in the Dorf's neighbourhood, which inevitably means cruising along the Rhine.

This has been a turning point for me. 

I once lamented the lack of hills, now I'm happy for the flat bike-riding terrain. We hated the long monotonous smooth distances when we were walking, like on our trip to Zons, but we relish it now with our bikes. We resented shelling out wads of Euros for train trips for distant locales in our corner of Germany. Now, we boldly attempt to reach them on our own – not always succeeding, but then we just boldly look for a closer destination.

Beer and Flammkuchen in Benrath

When I moved into my apartment in Baldwin Village in Toronto, I pulled boxes and furniture from my parents' basement in London. I also raided the garage for my old bicycle.

As a student in London, I would ride to campus, shooting along the bike trails along the Thames River. The bike was left hanging from the garage ceiling when I moved out.

Living in Toronto without your own transportation means contending with Toronto's public transit system. A system that is likely the most soul-crushing of all transit systems, and I have encountered a few of them.

When I took the bike out on the streets of T.O. for the first time, my immediate reaction was "Why didn't I do this before!" The less immediate reaction was a love for the city began to grow where there was a lot of cynicism before.

Riding a bike in Toronto allows you to forgo public transit most of the time. You ride to work, zig zagging up and down side streets you never would have discovered without the bike. 

In Toronto, I discovered the city with the bike and loved the city more because I discovered more. Staying off Toronto's subway and tram system definitely helped my outlook too.

We point out to friends and family that the a posh little town, but it's a nice place to live... and then we trail off. The bikes have allowed us to get out and discover more of the town, and a lot more of its surroundings. Given time, we might learn to love the Dorf. Maybe.

One of many suspension bridges along the Rhine.