Capítulo 4: Piano Kindness
I woke up with a knot in my stomach and a weird twitch in my neck muscle that made swallowing slightly tricky. It was seven a.m. and my host parents were probably at work already. They said they were going to drop him at his grandparents for the day. So, I didn't have anything on my agenda for the day aside from my critical bicycle ride.
Easy.
I sat outside in the garden with my freshly brewed espresso in my hand and for a moment I was the angsty lead in a French film house movie with the crispy air settling on my exposed shoulder and the smell of evergreens and pond water wafting around me. Despite not being the biggest fan of critters, it was kind of amusing to watch the tadpoles swim around in the miniature pond that was in the family's backyard. Between that, their wine-wrapped wooden deck and the ancient trees that formed a wall between them and the rest of the world, sitting in that garden was identical to being a desolate corner of a mythic Norwegian forest.
I couldn't put off the inevitable forever, so I finished my breakfast and got ready for the road ahead.
I knew the trick of getting onto the bicycle now, using the momentum from the push to hop up onto the seat and then catching myself by peddling before I had the chance to fall from the bike. The best thing I had going for me was that, according to Google Maps, I was going to be taking a straight road from the house all the way to Naarden train station. That meant that I only needed to focus on cycling and not stopping. That was a problem for me 4km in the future.
I popped in my earphones and started the most badass playlist I had on Spotify before making my way out of the gate. The first few meters were slightly wobbly but just as Grandson's "Blood// Water" hit its first base drop, I settled into a groove and for a moment I was soaring down the road. I suppose that comes with riding downhill without even grazing your brakes. I didn't care. Nothing could beat how free I felt when I reached my first 15-degree curve in the road, and I managed to maneuver it without much thought. I must have secret cyclist blood in my ancestry because this smooth streak of masterful cycling lasted another 8 minutes until I soared towards an oncoming car turning in from a side road and I almost made the transition from Olympic cyclist to road kill. I managed to come to another screeching halt right before the traffic light. Thank the Gods for muscle memory because instead of falling on my face like last time, I slid off the bicycle seat and caught myself in time with my feet.
First successful stop.
From there, adrenalin kicked into my system, and I was not as reckless as I was before. Instead, I went from being cautiously free like an inmate who gets exonerated from a life sentence but needs to be mindful of making anyone question their newfound innocence and revoking his innocence altogether.
I took the next 5 minutes with my brakes never out of reach. I made it all the way to the bridge before I allowed myself to relax and take in the scenery around me. Fairytale land. That was the only way I could describe the rows of trees along every road and the immaculately mowed lawns that framed each house I whizzed past. Before I knew where I was, I could hear the bustle of people and see the cobblestones I was learning to associate with Dutch city centres.
There it was. Naarden train station. I made it.
I took my cue from the gentleman in front of me who effortlessly dismounted his bicycle with both legs on one side like he was dismounting a house instead of a metal bicycle. He parked his bicycle on one of the racks beside the fence, which has rows of bicycles along its entire length alternating between higher rails and lower ones. I secured my own bicycle and felt like I was going to be sick. If anyone in Cape Town ever left their bicycle unattended in front of a public train station, they would not only get their bicycle rightfully stolen but if they dared to complain to the police, it wouldn't earn them any help aside from getting laughed at by the responding officers.
I was not a stranger to train stations but I was not familiar with self-service ones so I needed to ask one of the people where I would buy a ticket to go to Utrecht station. The first thing that the Ginger woman told me was that I was on the wrong platform to even go towards Utrecht but thankfully the machine sold tickets from all stations. She also gave me a tip that saved my life multiple times throughout the remainder of my time in the Netherlands.
She instructed me to download the NS app. (P.S. I wish I knew this woman's name because that was invaluable)
I only had my Nedbank card and some cash that I bought at the exchange in Cape Town, so I had to hope that I had enough for the train trip. She walked me through the whole process and what surprised me the most was that the times were set to the minutes for each train arrival with gaps of 5-10 minutes between each new train arrival. The boards overhead had the exact times as well as an indication of whether the train would be on time or by how many MINUTES it would be delayed. In South Africa, I had grown so used to inefficient transport that a train being 30 minutes to 2 hours late was par for the course and something that annoyed us but always remained a reality of train-line travel. Apparently, the Dutch were not that complacent.
So I waited for my 7:13 train with a bewildered expression on my face that turned into pure astonishment when the train came to a halt a full minute early. I stood in the doorway of the train with my jaw slightly ajar until the conductor motioned me to hop onto the train. I immediately complied.
After all, who was I to stand in the way of such a flawless system of transportation?
The train ride was a highlight for me because I always enjoyed long rides. My mother started her career as a train driver so riding on trains and watching the world whiz past me was a staple of my childhood that I remember fondly.
In fact, just before I boarded the plane to the Orange Kingdom, my mom took my sister and I on a train trip across the planes of South Africa from Cape Town to Johannesburg before we finally reached the warm shores of Durban. It was a trip that I won't soon forget. I got to spend a few days on one of the most beautiful trains in South Africa with my family and get to sleep while looking out a clear night's stars without the light pollution of city life.
At that moment, I decided that long train rides would be something that I enjoyed frequently while in the Netherlands.
The train conductor came to check my ticket just a few minutes before we parked at the Utrecht Central train station. I followed the choreographed sea of people that poured out of the train. I followed them above to ground level and saw a shiny and immaculate mall serving as a train station. The only thing that because painfully aware to me was the sheer mass of people that were in not only the train station but the city of Utrecht. My heart started pulsing out of its natural rhythm and my breath caught in my throat while all the air in my body streamlined towards my head. I sped up my steps and rushed to mimic the people scanning their tickets at the gates in order to leave the train station. My tongue went numb in my tongue and a metallic taste formed at the base of my tongue. I wanted to cry because I knew exactly what was going to happen next.
A fucking panic attack in the middle of Utrecht Central Station.
Instead of allowing the panic to overwhelm me, I zipped through people and towards an empty spot in the building. The only people taking up space was the alternative-looking girl with pink hair and a hoody only covering her left shoulder as she bowed her head and allowed herself to get consumed by the music she was playing on the piano in front of her. I tried to focus on the sound of the music and the feeling of cold from the window pain in the palm of my hand. It worked a little but not enough.
So I did what I always did in moments like these and called the one person who always picked up my calls.
"Hey. It's 8 in the morning," a groggy voice said on the other side of the line.
I immediately turned my back to the rest of the people in the train station and tucked myself in the corner of the building, between two pillars along the wall of windows with my head and hand on the cold metals and the white phone melded to my ear. A silent sob broke from my throat and I heard a sharp rustle from the other side.
"Hey? Are you okay? Tay?" she started before sighing and taking a pause. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and low compared to before, "Breathe… take a deep breath for me, okay? Keep doing that until the numbness and tingles go away… I'm not going anywhere."
I did as she said and continued to take deep breaths until the nausea and lightheadedness subsided and all I was left with was embarrassment. I stood up straight and kept my head bowed in shame.
"How are you feeling now?" she asked.
"Better," I mumbled under my breath.
"Taylor," she deadpanned and then chuckled, "Don't beat yourself up. I've been to Utrecht, it's a hub. This was bound to happen at least once." I rolled my eyes at her remark by never removing the phone from my ear. "Please just tell me you were smart enough to pack a snack?" I smiled at her concern and nodded at her before realizing she couldn't see me.
"Yeah, I packed a few sandwiches and a bottle of apple juice," I said.
"Good," was her reply.
"I'm sorry for calling you. I know I'm supposed to do this on my own," I chastised myself, removing my free hand from the wall and instead using it to scratch my neck.
"Don't be an idiot, Tay. This is part of you that you are gonna have to deal with. So best not to be a wimp about it. I'm here okay," she said. I could hear the smile in her voice so I smiled as well.
"I have to go… I'm sorting out my residence card today," I said.
Lara scoffed and said, " I know, dumbass, you told me last night. It's kinda good you woke me up early because I have a morning class today so I should probably get my ass up anyway. Just call me if you need a break, okay?"
"Yeah… thanks, Lar. Now you get your… just go to class. I can't be friends with someone who flunks out in their first week." I said and we shared a laugh. After a few more snarky goodbye comments I finally felt confident enough to stand up and look up. Thankfully I was not the center of the universe, and nobody even noticed me. All except the girl seated at the piano bench whose eyes were fixed on me. I wanted to act defensively and ask her what the hell she was looking at but any hostility inside of me melted away when she offered me a soft smile. I offered her a shy one in return before turning on my feet and walking in the opposite direction towards the exit.
Just before walking outside, I took one last deep breath and checked the location on my Google Maps before walking in the direction of the Dutch Government building. At least after this, I would be able to get a bank account and then the fun would really start.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, and the only thing of importance was the freshly laminated residence card tucked away in my jacket pocket. I didn't have it in me to stay in Utrecht longer than I needed to, so I tucked tail and hopped on the first available train. I watched the world whip past me to the soft sounds of Aurora in my eyes.
By the time I reached Naarden-Bussum, it was well past day and heading into the silence of early evening. I found my bicycle easily, mostly thanks to the picture I had taken to reference its position later. Well, it was later and boy was I proud of myself for that smart thinking.
I managed to get on my bicycle and hallway back to my new home without so much of a hitch. I got to my first intersection easily and a few meters before the road, I pulled my brakes and slid from my seat to settle onto my tip toes gently pulling myself into an easy stop a full arm away from the traffic light. The traffic passed and I made my move to hop back on then I tried something new, placing one foot on the pedal and using that to push myself forwards before finally sliding back onto the bicycle seat without breaking a sweat.
Maybe, I'd get the hang of this Dutch thing after all.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder