My First Flat

Feeling refreshed from the weekend and ready for another adventure, I decided to try and find the disc golf course today. Armed with a couple of discs, my giant map of the city, and written instructions copied from Google Maps, I headed out on my bicycle. After making it through the tunnel and out of my comfort zone, I zipped right past where I was supposed to turn. Realizing it a few blocks later, I made a u-turn and headed back. I knew Westplein (where I needed to turn) was either the street with the lights or the next intersection. I opted for trying out the intersection with the lights first. Once making it across, it would be easy to get headed in the right direction. Except, as soon as I crossed the tram tracks I heard the unmistakable "thump thump thump" of a flat. Frustrated, I took a deep breath. I was in an area of town completely unfamiliar to me.

I hopped off my bike and walked towards the street that seemed to have the most number of shops on it. Most of the shops were Middle Eastern in nature. I stopped the first man I saw and asked him if he could point me to the nearest bike shop. He pointed to the intersecting street, a block down. "If you turn on that street," he said. Then pausing, "Spreek je Nederlands? ... Do you speak Dutch?" I shook my head. "Okay, well if you turn that way," he said, gesturing left. "It's at the end of the street on this side." I thanked him and walked my bike down the sidewalk, following his instructions. 


At the bike store, I explained that I had a flat. The man working there said they could repair it. He continued, "It will be finished at 3 pm." A wave of panic went through me. I was in a completely unfamiliar area with a limited amount of cash (which eliminated any sort of shopping). Dressed in my hoodie and jeans (ready to play disc golf) and one of the few white people in the area, I stood out. Don't get me wrong, the area was pretty nice and I didn't feel unsafe; it was just that I didn't really fit in. I didn't want to spend the next 3.5 hours pacing back and forth on the same street. "Is there any way to have it finished more quickly?" He said they could replace the tire for a little more money, but it would be done in the next 20 minutes. "Perfect." 


Off the main street, most of the area was filled with apartments, so I limited my 20 minute exploration to the street I'd already walked down to get to the bike shop. There were several little stores, but I had to save my money for the tire. I did stop in and grab a Turkse Pizza at one of the little bakeries on the street. For only 1 euro, it was almost the size of a Chipotle burrito. I ate it as I looked in the shop windows, waiting for time to pass. I thought about sitting on a bench for a while, but the cold air was already cutting through me walking, and I knew I'd get chilled pretty quickly.


Before I knew it, 20 minutes had passed and it was time to pick back up my bike. When the guy rang me up, he said they had actually been able to repair it instead of doing a replacement, so it was 6 euros instead of 15. Thankful for the little discount, but feeling a bit exhausted and not so excited about an adventure anymore, I decided to save disc golf for another day.