Illusions of a globalised experience

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The interesting thing about traveling and relocating several times in a lifetime lies in the particular nostalgia one has about those places.

In my case, Amsterdam was always about the biking. The wind (or more often than not rain) in your hair, the upright posture, the power (you will never get a car honking at you as there are more bikes than cars), the infinite ways to explore the city, the pride to ride an old and battered beautiful dutch bike that noone would ever want to steal, the sound of the lock as it clings and clangs against the frame, being able to bike back drunk from an event in town, the wind on your back on a downward slope.

In London, things aren’t quite the same for bikers. I look at them go from the second floor of a bus and it looks like an Olympic sport. Aggressive, fast, on gear-less sports bikes, wearing bike helmets (you’d be laughed at for doing that in Amsterdam) and sometimes face masks, it’s just not the same.

So when I left for Amsterdam last week, I had been thinking for months about how I missed my precious bike and how much I wanted to take it back with me to London. Of course it only occurred to me once I got there that it wasn’t the bike I missed, but the biking experience. Something 20 pounds on Easyjet would never get me.

So I came back empty-handed and a bit sad. This was a good reminder that although you can take your friends and your work wherever you go and that global nomadism is the epitome of cool among geeks, there is a vast array of things you will never be able to export out.

And that’s why most people aren’t global nomads. Some places just are too good to leave behind.