Still life images

If I could make a movie of Amsterdam for you, I would bypass the typical images.. all the famous buildings and swarms of tourists pale in comparison to the beauty of the average daily life found in the back streets of early mornings, late night wanderings, and catching the light as it glances off windows in a rare moment of October sun.

image 1...

5 a.m. and there is a sleeting rain. The cyclists move silently through the streets almost at dawn, navigating turns, sleeping parked cars, and blackened street lights in a danced choreography of immense proportions. My bike files in rank with others as we glide through slippery streets and feel the cool air wash out stink of bar, club, and cigarette gatherings. Through the drips, the singular procession out of the downtown club district gains speed, then abruptly stops. Bikes pile up in expectant silence, and, forced to stop myself, I wait with them on this dark street corner. Suddenly, a door opens, a light flips on, and the smell of hot loaves of bread direct from the oven wafts over our dripping faces. The first bakery is open on this Saturday morn, and club-goers are turned into children eager to take the first bites of warmth.

image 2...

October, and the cold rains give way to one day of blissful temperatures and succulent sun. People, ducks, geese and swans flock to the park to celebrate the warmth. In the park near our home, the birds understand that pushed prams and lovers in arms mean a wealth of treats for them. At the edge of the watery expanse of oceanic lake I run in stride with my heart beat and breath while the sun lights up my face. The wind at my back, I look up to see a flowing hijab heading for me. Into the wind, her face free except for a very large pair of sunglasses worthy of Fergie, the sight of a woman in full Islamic dress riding a bike is a sight well worth seeing.

image 3...

In a heavy mist resting over the city, trash trucks fight with bicycles to rule the road. Shops silent and waiting, only the hotel kitchens are open. My bike glides silently over cobblestone backroads as I navigate the fastest route to the school. On a deserted shopping street, a singular image. I catch his eye as I bike by quickly- one lone hairdresser standing in front of his store's large mirror, blow drying his curls into a flurry.

image 4...

When bicycles rule, and cars are luxuries, one learns to transport all sorts of things on two wheels. Imagine the crowded shopping street, bustling bodies trying to get home at 5 p.m. on a Friday. Children are tucked under arms, in baskets, buckets, or strapped to the back of bikes, sometimes 3 to a parental rider. Dogs peek out of saddlebags or front bike baskets alongside flowers and loaves of bread. A man in an elegant suit, coat open and flapping, balances an orange tree behind him. Wrapped in plastic to survive the wind, it shimmers and shines and together they move as if one tall wind-whipped giant through the misting streets of the October evening. The light glances off windows and slips down streets, glancing off buildings and resting in canals where a woman in a long overcoat holds the rudder of a boat in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. The lights of the city are just coming on, and the water ways illuminate while the city shudders into its alternate personality, finishing off the work week with a grande finale of city slicked cyclists heading home for dinner.