On YOUR Bike!

On a whim, not without external inspiration, I decided to search today for the meaning of the song “Nine million bicycles in beijing”, performed by Katie Melua, written by Mike Batt. I googled, and googled some more. I fancy myself as being quite proficient in googling, seeing it as the modern day equivalent of “thinking” or “memorising” and infinitely less stress. Yet in the entire netiverse, it appears there is noone who really can explain the relevance of the catchtag for this song, its reference to bicycles. That it's a love song, yes. That its inspiration came from a trip to Beijing and a mention of Bicycles, yes. Why the two belong together and formed a hit, no idea.  A clue may however be in Batt's pedigree, known for no less than the Wombles and Watership Down.  How could it fail...

Katie finds nine million to be a remarkably large number, which it arguably is. Unless you're talking Greek bailouts or number of light years across the observable universe... and this immensity makes her feel understandably small – which is where she loses interest in connecting this to the subject of love (“[despite this?] you're the one I love most of all”). Sweet nothings, honey dripper.  Cheeky.

As it happens, Beijing is a City of 20Million (“more or less”) with 9 Million bicycles, while Holland is a country of a comparable 16 Million (“more or less”), with a much more impressive 18 Million Bicycles. Not only bigger numbers, but equivalent to nearly 3 times as many bikes per head. Factor in also that Beijing is turning rapidly and increasingly to cars and better public transport, and Melua should be looking for a more impressive, more durable anchor for her smallness.. uh.. and love.

Perhaps Holland?  Bikes DO have a special status in holland.  Akin... nay... fully kinned to LOVE.

For those familiar with geography, and or history, you'll appreciate not only is Holland flat and suitable for bikes, but also is right next to the Country that went ape-shit in WorldWar two and invaded all its neighbours. And this episode, more commonly termed World War II, still occupies a special, cold, dark place in Dutch hearts.

Mention “the war” and “Germany” in Holland, in the one sentence, and it conjures up not genocide, un-named soldiers, oppression, starvation or general hardship. Rather, “mijn fiets terug!” or “those bastards stole our bicycles”. Both during the occupation, when bikes were confiscated, in part to limit subversive activities, and at the conclusion of the war when Germans fled a rather manageable 100km back to the Fatherland, having fleeced any remaining bikes.

But, however long and passionate the love affair with the bike, Holland was in no way at the forefront of its development. This took place in England, Germany, and France in the 19^th century. The first Dutch bicycle manufacturers copied their work and in fact did not contribute to the initial development and success of the bicycle. This strong design tradition persists today with unapologetically heavy and unsophisticated Dutch brands that excel only in price above their competitors.

Yet Holland did however quickly adopt the bike as their own, for the obvious reasons; it's cheap and Holland is flat. This grew and grew, and now perhaps more than anywhere else, the bike forms an integral part of the Dutch psyche. And society.

Manufacturing grew too. A Dutch-made bike is held in the same esteem, locally, that Americans reserve for american made motorcars, or New Zealanders for NZ sheep. And they are now popping up elsewhere – probably for nostalgia value – from Walmart's 2011 Hollandia model to Brooklyn Cruisers.

But there are bikes and there are bikes. A man on an “oma fiets” (or “grandma bike”), a bike without crossbar, named as if it is somehow more heavy and sedate a ride than the heavy and sedate competition, is deemed about as manly as a man asking for tea and milk (a “kinder” thee) and receives looks to boot (trust me...).

Biking in Holland also has a highly developed etiquette, status and to some reckonings, Superpower. Traffic signals, or indeed obvious traffic hazards, cease to exist for the magical Dutch bike. This is even captured in Dutch law, where the lawbooks enshrine the unique tenet “Innocent until proven guilty... unless a guy on a bike was injured, in which case we regret rescinding the death sentence!”.

Drivers and even pedestrians are relegated to "tolerated" by this famously tolerant country. You think that the dork tapping on your window in London traffic and blabbering something about fumes is annoying, here too there is no shortage of self-satisfaction and contempt that comes with sticking a bike seat between your legs.

This is not only obvious in day to day challenges of negotiating crossings, bike paths or in fact footpaths without embedding a 10kg bike frame in your hip or losing an ankle, but it is a contempt solidly built into the infrastructure.

crossing button

Accustomed to riding smooth, frequently re-cobbled (another story) and superbly lit bike lanes along the scheveningen forest every day (dreamy), a punctured tyre gave me the opportunity to taste how the other half live. I was forced to walk rather than ride the self-same route. In stark contrast to the beautiful bike paths from which I'd have little problem eating a 3 course meal, the walking paths set into the forest immediately adjacent were unlit, craggy and morbid affairs reminiscent of the Spider Shelob's lair, in the Ephel Duath mountains around Lord of the Ring's Mordor. Spectres of great cats lurked in the wild dark brush, contorted vines patrolled the path waiting on careless steps.

And this hopefully unrepeated walk home was what triggered me to write this piece, or more precisely as I found myself pushing on a Pedestrian button, above which was posted a large picture of an incredibly gormless looking man in bad pants pushing the Pedestrian button.  Contrast with the super nippy cool guy on the Bike button sticker!  The Pedestrian Gorm sticker is incredibly large so that it had the effect that people stepping up to the plate and pushing the button are painfully aware of branding themselves publicly as the guy in the picture. The message, "next time, ride a bike!"

So if Beijing's medium sized but dwindling bike population has the power to make people feel small and insignificant, I ask you, what does this say about Holland.