How I Learned to Ride a Bike (again)

Recently I have been drawn to my bike more than usual. So much biking around: In my city, across my city, in the neighboring country, by the river, in the park, on the mountain, everywhere. I enjoy this activity and it feels like meditation to me, to set off in a wonderful path and pedal along. Funnily today, I saw a kid learning to ride a bike and it reminded me of the funny experiences I had while learning to ride a bike. It was not my childhood. I was 23 and I had just moved to Gent. And THAT is what this blog is all about. I have taken a long pause from this blog, so I thought, why not restart with something silly?

Some people say riding a bicycle is one of the things you cannot unlearn. But not only I had unlearned it but also grown scared of doing it. And then I moved to Belgium. And what did I see all around me? People, bikes, people riding those bikes, people walking their dogs while riding their bikes, and my favourite one - people dragging their luggage to the train station with one hand while on a bike. But I couldn't do any of that. Determined to change that, I went to a store one fine day and rented myself a bike. Only I couldn't ride it yet. At the store I met an interesting man, also starting at the same school as me. We lived in the same area, around the university in Gent. He asked if we could go together and around the campus. ''SURE'' was my first thought. ''SILLY BIKE INEXPERIENCED WOMAN'' was my second one. Feeling insecure and not wanting to look stupid, I went in the other direction, so that we didn't have to bike together. I walked my bike for 3 kilometers to my home. And that was that for the week. Every morning I saw my shiny bike parked outside my home. I felt really bad. It's like when Ross said to Phoebe, ''This bike wants to be ridden. You're killing the spirit of the bike''. So I picked a night - both lovely and lonely- to try it out in the park in front of my home. Only I couldn't. Of course everything has to be perfect - the luminosity, the temperature, the stars, how else can I ride a bike? 

Determined to complete my mission the next day, I went out. The sun was shining. People were minding their own business. The weather was perfect. There cannot be a better time. So I rubbed hands like a makkhi and unlocked my journey for adventure. I remembered the lovely tricycle I rode in my childhood. Time to make you really proud, buddy. I tried to take off like a smooth criminal. Only I couldn't. With wobbly hands I gave my dream another try. There I was .. trembling, but moving forward. Gaining confidence, I picked up speed. I tried to frame my very own success story that was to be shared generation after generation. The stories of the bravery of the bicycle girl. Until I stormed into a park bench. But I didn't fall down. That's a good start! I moved further, regained balance, and moved over to an empty street. 

I shit you not: I got better exponentially.

I rode with a smile. I rode with grace. And then  I was gliding through the empty street with open hair and wind passing through it. I loved to feel the wind in my hair. The sun was shining on my bike rear. The birds sang songs when I rode past them. Artists were mesmerized by the beauty of that bike ride. All men wanted me. All women wanted to be me.

And then my wheel got stuck in the tram line and I crashed hard and welcomed some bruises. The seat of my bike rotated 90 degrees clockwise. And let's say I was thrown into a position from where I could REALLY appreciate the beautiful day. And if that was not enough, a tram came from behind and hit me. Okay, not the last sentence. But imagine if it really happened! With my bruised elbow, I walked my bike back home and it remained untouched for a long time. 

Eventually I did get better. And managed my way in the tiny Gent and huge Hamburg. When I am not sure about my day, it is now always an option to take my bike and ride away into a beautiful path. Or get to know a new one. Leaving the mundane behind and pedaling away without a care in the world - whether in the next street or miles from civilization. And I have never been disappointed. 

Out of Sight...?

 ''I have checked-in my luggage and walking to the security now. Are you on your way back already?''
''No, we will stay until you take off.''
''That won't happen for the next 2.5 hours.''
''So?''
''Okay, FINE.''
My anger started to cool down, and I wanted to go back and hug my family and my dear friend. To this day, I regret walking angry into the airport, to start the journey, which had started this incredibly long vanvaas. If I had the chance, I would have done it differently. I would have not fought with them on our last day together before I left for Belgium. Typical tiny family nok-jhonk. Two years later, I still crave for the departing hug and recall the tears as I boarded the plane that brought me into the most exciting years of my life. Who knew I had to stay away for that long at a stretch
How can time seem both fast and slow, depending on the case? 

• I started my master program. I blinked. And it was all over. It involved a monstrous bite of learning, getting to know a handful of people, and free expansion process of the mind. 

• I started living away from my family. It feels like 20 years. All the plans to go back crashed beautifully one by one. 

Well I did expect to ''miss out'' on a lot, but with only 3.5 hours time zone difference, high speed internet and video calling, you have immediate access to everything and everyone, it's practically like you're there, right? Right?

In the years, came small and big celebrations where I was always missed. People I was REALLY waiting to have kids, had kids. Some people made my childhood really amazing and I was always looking forward to being a cool Aunt or cousin to their kids. I simply can not. No amount of video call could make me play guguthi with them but that's a compromise. Okay. Things happened in an around my tiny town. I mentally walked around Mandi, recalling each tiny detail, eventually ending up in my peaceful place - by the river - where many hours were spent playing and sitting and thinking on the way back from school. It feels like a dream. Something that wasn't ever real. I expected some of this when I decided to go to another country to study. But due to the twist of events, it has been so long that I haven't got a chance to go back yet, nor does it look good in the near future. Close friends apparently started disliking me. I wish I could explain that with a reason. As stupid as it sounds, I have no clue. Maybe distance doesn't beget affection in all cases. Maybe in some cases the brain transfers the distant thing into the Fort of Forgetitude. It's of course, not entirely black and white - like everything else in life. I am somehow communicating regularly with few. Sure, the knot there is a bit frayed. But it's still there. 

Feeling being phased out slowly from the life of all my loved ones is a strange experience. There is nothing too big I can do about it. It took me this long to realize but for me, physical proximity matters in sustaining a relationship more than I thought it would. My thoughts are no longer the daring ''Always close. No matter what. No matter how far''. 

This is what makes me write again after two years. This is what makes me complain again. Yes, this promises to be a personal blog and the reason is simple:  Sometimes I am doing great, and I want to document an overwhelming happy experience. Sometimes I am not doing great, and I have to ventilate a bit. About everything. But mostly,  I am confused about everything in my life. This little blog has been transferring emotions from my head to the ''outside'' for ten amazing years. Having said all that, I feel I can go back to my work with a blank mind again. 

xx