The bikes are more beautiful than the buildings in Copenhagen.
I’m a bike girl. Meaning, I don’t casually like bikes and ride only on days when the sun is shining and I can wear a tank-top. I’m a Seattle biker. I’m willing to cover myself head to toe in Gortex until I look like a wrinkly tent, just so I can bike to work in January. I keep Spandex in business (and in style:)). I own more reflective neon that the Department of Transportation’s road signs division.
Which is why I thought Copenhagen would be bike heaven. Copenhagen is the purported ‘bike capital of the world.’ I read that 60% of Copenhageners commute by bicycle every day. For comparison, 4.1% of Seattleites bike to work.
Just an average street corner in Copenhagen.
Jeff and I left Scotland for Copenhagen on August 22nd. And as we made our way to the city, we started to feel we’d love the city.
As our plane descended into Copenhagen, the intermittent sun and rain created not one, but two rainbows in the sky. Double rainbows! At the airport, we quickly found the Metro and headed into the center of town. We rode the escalator from the Metro station to street level, where another rainbow was waiting to welcome us. We then started looking for the bus to take us to our apartment. Within a minute, a woman stepped forward to help us find the bus. Then, at the bus stop, we could hear soothing and beautiful classical music in the background. Everything was so calm and quiet due to t of a lack of cars.
“Do you think we died in a plane crash and now we’re in heaven?” I asked Jeff as we waited for the bus, looking around at the hundreds of bikes passing by, feeling the last rays of sun of my face and listening to a soprano solo.
“Possibly,” Jeff said. “Possibly.”
A rainbow, welcoming us to Copenhagen.
Then, a light drizzle started. Within 60 seconds, the drizzle turned to a full-on downpour. The sign counting the minutes until our bus arrived started going up, not down. I yelled at Jeff for not checking directions more carefully. Perhaps because of the rain, perhaps because the bus was never coming, or perhaps because I was yelling, but suddenly everyone who was waiting for the bus with us had dissapeared.
An hour later, we gave in and took a $20 taxi to our apartment, which turned out to only be a 20 minute walk away. Copenhagen didn’t look like heaven anymore.
However, I woke up the next morning, ready to look at the city with fresh eyes. I was going to bike! Bike in Copenhagen with my fellow bike peeps!
Our AirBnB host provided us with two very Danish-style bikes. By “Danish-style,” I mean, lean-back cruiser style. No racing required.
My eyes lit up as I saw the bike. It was beautiful. (Other bike people may understand how a bike can be beautiful.) It was white, with a varnish that made it shine under the light of the morning’s sun. The frame was curved, like a voluptuous woman. The handlebars supported a large wicker basket and the seat was black and plush. It was love at first sight.
“Uh, that looks a little big for you,” Jeff said, as I started to mount the bike.
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
“Well, maybe we should take it for a practice ride.”
“Fine,” I said, annoyed that Jeff doubted my cycling skills. Didn’t this man know I knew how to ride a bike?!
I lugged the bike, which I learned weighed more than a grown man, into the street. I then tried to fling my right leg over the frame. Tried, because my leg didn’t make it on the first attempt. However, using every ounce of flexibility I had, I managed to straddle myself on the frame. Now I just needed to figured out how to get my butt on the seat and my feet on the pedals.
“Jeff!” I said, after about a minute of trying to get on the bike. “I neeeeed your help!”
Jeff came over and held the bike seat for me when I got on, just like my parents used to do when I was learning to ride. With his help, I was ready to bike. Kind of.
“How’s it going?” Jeff said as I pedaled down the street.
“Great!” I said, lying. “Great!”
I lied because I knew as soon as I started to pedal, the bike was impossibly to0 big for me. I could only pedal with my tip topes and I had to jam my crotch into the seat just to do that. But I thought I could make it work.
And then, a car started coming down the road. I panicked and almost fell off the bike.
“I think we should try and find you another bike,” Jeff said.
“No!” I said. “We’re in Copenhagen and I want to bike.”
I managed to get back on the bike myself, and Jeff and I headed off. However, as we pedaled along, the biking wasn’t getting any easier because every time I had to start and stop I would almost fall over.
“Maybe we should turn around?” Jeff said, after I’d nearly toppled over five times.
But I insisted we press on. After successfully crossing a major intersection, I started to feel good. Real good. I imagined I looked liked a local, with a big smile on my face and my hair in the breeze.
We biked another few blocks until we had to stop again for cars to pass. I decelerated and tilted to the left to bring my left leg down to stop the bike. However, instead of just brining my leg down, I brought myself and the bike crashing into the middle of the road. I laid in the middle of the road, contemplating what just happened as onlookers gawked.
I scrambled back up and started to cry. But not because I was in pain. Because I was humiliated.
I (Jeff) walked the bike back to our apartment, grumbling all the way. I hated Copenhagen. I hated bikes. I hated life. Needless to say, Jeff and I then spent the rest of the day exploring the city with our feet. Granted, we saw some great stuff, like the hippie community of Christiana. But the entire day I gave the stink eye to ever biker who passed me. (That would be like 1,000,000 stink eyes, in case you’re wondering.)
The next day, I woke up ready to tackle the roads again. Our host gave us a new bike that was slightly smaller and with a few adjustments, I could at least start and stop. Jeff and I took our bikes into the city. However, the whole day I felt awful. The bike was just too big. I almost crashed into 10 bikers during rush hour. Instead of a bike-pro, I looked like a bike-clown.
We even tried looking at some other rental bikes to see if I could get a better fit. It was then that we realized the Danish are tall. Real tall. (According to this website, they are the tallest people in THE WORLD.) Conclusion: tall people make tall bikes.
I’m practically a munchkin, measuring just shy of five-feet tall. So as I stood on a busy street watching hundreds of bikes pass, I realized the only way I could find a bike that fit was to find a child’s bike.
These ‘family’ bikes are everywhere, with little kid’s eyes popping through the window of the carriage!
Once I realized I wasn’t going to find a bike my size, I decided I was not meant to bike in Copenhagen. I was a little crabby to be honest. I mean, it was weird to admit in some way I felt safer biking in Chiang Mai than I did in Copenhagen. But even if I didn’t get to bike much, I’m happy I’m still alive. But biking and I might have to ‘take a break’ for awhile and see other modes of transportation.
So is Copenhagen the most bike-friendly city in the world? Yes, unless you’re shorter than 4’11”.
Bikes by night.
expositions 