It has cleared up a bit in Amsterdam and the rest of the country, two weeks of what seemed like never-ending downpour was clearly enough for most. People moaned, sighed and bitched like there was no tomorrow. But whaddayagonnado? Shit happens. At the same time we completely and conveniently forget about the absolutely gorgeous months of April and May (record droughts). Alright, alright, it's supposed to be summer in July, not feel like the end of November.
Anyhoo, tomorrow I'll be getting on a plane (gasp) to Copenhagen, on business. Last time I paid the Danish Blues a visit it was for leisure and I took the (slow) train, as I had to bring my bike along. It was cool. I serenaded ladies in red, competed in a slow bicycle race (and let my opponent, who was coming of age, win, of course) and drank way too many expensive beers. Emphasis on 'expensive', not 'too many beers'. Referred to by the aforementioned, herring-eating individual I was invited by Wonderful Copenhagen to cover the UCI BMX World Championships in my role as an inquisitive journalist, who expect me to insightfully peel off the layers of one of the sportiest of 'street bicycle cultures'. Naturally, I'll try not to disappoint them.
Accredited by the UCI, yes m'am, there's a first for everything. You see, there will be all sorts of street events going on all over town, all evolving around our two-wheeled (if not more) friend, the arts, the urban life, etc. I'll be all over it, trust me. Lauren is joining me, so she can see for herself how cheap Amsterdam really is for shopping. ;) My lack of BMX-cred doesn't mean I won't attempt to sneakily attach my GoPro camera to the BMX of one of the Dutch contestants, because I will. Or whoever will indulge me. Either that, or they'll most likely rip off my press card and toss me in the SÃ¸erne to go look for bikes there.
As you might know or have been able to assess, I have NO knowledge whatsoever of who's what in the BMX universe. Doesn't mean I don't admire these rascals. It will be intriguing to dive back into this semi-sub-bike-culture which I left behind at the age of 10. Oh, the memories. I leave you with photos..I mean postcards, as many often tell me I live in one. From a, as you by now have guessed, VERY wet Sunday in July. I'm charging 3 cameras as I type this, cross your fingers it will be a dry weekend in Copenhagen. That, or I just might convert and ask this fine craftsman and fellow Dutchie if I can join him on his maiden voyage...when the moment is right. And only if I can bring Lauren, of course.