I asked the shopkeeper if he had any advice for a new bicyclist in the Netherlands. It was rush hour, and the traffic was intimidating.
“Uh, just go.”
Before this I had spent most of my time on the sidewalk, not knowing where the bike lane started or where the bike lane ended, and scurrying to the side whenever I heard a bell or someone calling. Bikes here have the right of way, and you’re expected to move the hell out, not the other way around. I’m eyeballing this, but the number of bikes on the road at once outnumber cars and other vehicles by at least 50:1 in Utrecht. Biking back in UCSD was nothing compared to this.
And as unhelpful as I thought the shopkeeper’s advice was at first, there really was no other way to learn how to bike around town, other than following the Dutch bikers and doing what they do. When to pass a cyclist, where to turn, where to stop, or even when to ignore the streetlight — although it’s a good idea to err on the side of caution for now.
The same applies for learning a new language. Sure, there are textbooks and language tutors available (and the Dutch people I have met so far are more than happy to demonstrate the correct pronunciation of the word), but the bulk of the learning will still be my responsibility.
Learning by doing is proposed as the cure-all for any sort of ignorance a person may suffer from. And while experience may be the best teacher, her lessons don’t come without a cost. I could cause a pile-up on Janskerkhof. I could feel like a fool when I ask someone hoe gaat het, or how they’re doing, and I can’t understand a single part of their response.
But it’s better than the alternative — instead of hiding behind what is comfortable or what is known, dodging every bike and wondering what it would be like to zip along the road so graciously, you could actually find out for yourself.