How does it feel to live in the city with the most expensive parking spaces? An indoor garage space in the city center is being offered for sale for half a million. Until recently, the neighborhood where I live was a parking paradise. But that is no longer the case recently, prices have been jacked up.
There was a time when you could park for free almost anywhere in Amsterdam. That time is over. You can’t catch me being nostalgic because free parking also caused enormous inconvenience. I would love a city with fewer vehicles. You’re wondering why I’m writing all this. I have come to realize that mobility is the key to success. Mobility is the new gold. You are where you come. Having a car greatly increases your freedom of movement. But the fat bike is the real engine of progress.
In my neighborhood I am overtaken left and right by Moroccan girls on souped-up fat bikes. The speed of the vehicle has also increased their brutality. Sometimes they are chased by a boy on a fat bike. Sometimes they are chased by a whole platoon of fat bikes. Nothing new under the sun. Once, two fat-biking teenagers shouted ‘boo!’ loudly as they passed me. I was running and was scared shitless. They laugh. They also cause dangerous traffic situations because they use the cycle paths. Plenty of reason to hate these fat bikes wholeheartedly. But I recently heard something that turned my attention to these black monsters. I was running again and once again a fat bike overtook me. As I passed, I heard the girl sitting on the back say to the driver, “We can go into town.” That stuck.
When I see all those girls on fat bikes, what I see above all is freedom
It is known that Dutch Muslims have a strong aversion to cycling. It is very rare that I see a Muslim woman on a two-wheeler. But the fat bike has been embraced en masse. I let the girl’s words sink in. That sentence contained enormous promise. What they were much less likely to do with public transport, they now did: gain access to the city center. Is that such a big deal? It is. I often visit the canal belt. Or in the South. Or the Rivierenbuurt. Or the Pipe. These are the white bastions of this segregated city, and increasingly so due to the enormously increased house prices. You won’t see many Amsterdammers with a non-Western background there, except for the Moroccan cleaning ladies. Dutch people I came into contact with after a lecture often started talking about their Moroccan cleaning lady. But that time is also over, cleaning is no longer a strictly Moroccan affair. Everyone is a cleaner these days.
The fat bike enables young people to bridge the barriers between neighborhoods. They can stay away from home longer without having to answer annoying questions. When I see all those girls on fat bikes, what I see above all is freedom. Boss of your own wheels. No one can stop us. The Moroccan photographer Hassan Hajjaj has made a beautiful series of the moped women of Marrakech. They then stand very cool, veiled, with the moped in their hand. Hell’s Angels. They radiate the pride of people who know the world is their oyster – these women. Hassan Hajjaj should visit Amsterdam.
Where youth gain in mobility, older immigrants lose. They like to go out by car, for example to have a barbecue in the city park. But when you spend a few tens of euros on parking costs, you lose the desire to grill.
