21 September 2025

Learning to cycle like a local

The first week I rode a bike here, I was overtaken by a grandmother carrying a bag of groceries in one hand, a man with a toddler in a front seat and a ladder on his shoulder, and a teenager doing her homework on her phone. Nobody was wearing a helmet and nobody looked worried. I was the only one sweating.

It took me a while to understand that cycling here is not a sport or a statement. It is walking, just faster. Here is what I wish someone had told me at the start.

The bike itself

Forget anything light or fast. The classic city bike is an upright, heavy thing with one or a few gears, a chain guard so your trousers stay clean, a stand, lights, and back-pedal brakes. A crate or basket on the front is not decoration, it is your shopping bag. Second-hand is the norm, and a bike that looks a bit tired attracts less attention from thieves.

Locks, plural

Most people use two: the small ring lock built into the back wheel, and a heavy chain to attach the frame to something that can't be moved. Using only the ring lock is how you learn the second lesson the hard way. Look at how the locals park and copy them.

The unwritten rules

Keep to the right so faster people can pass on the left. Ring your bell briefly and without anger; it means "I'm here", not "get out of my way". Stick an arm out before you turn. Never stop dead in the middle of a bike lane to check a map; pull over to the side first. And the one that matters most for visitors: the red-coloured paths are for bikes, not for walking or taking photos.

Tram tracks are exactly the width of a bike tyre. Cross them at a sharp angle, never parallel.

Tram tracks and taxis

I fell off once, and it was the tracks. If your wheel slips into the groove you are on the ground before you understand what happened. Cross them as close to a right angle as you can, especially when it is wet. Trams always win, so give them space, and watch for car doors opening on narrow canal streets.

Weather is not an excuse

Rain jackets, rain trousers, and in winter a pair of proper gloves are what separate the people who cycle all year from the people who give up in October. Headwind, though, is simply part of life. It always seems to be blowing against you, in both directions, and everybody complains about it in exactly the same tired, cheerful way.

After a couple of years I no longer think about any of this. That is probably the real sign of having learned it.