Stay inside

It's smoky outside. My wrist hurts. I have a cold. I don't feel like going outside for the rest of the day or if I'm not doing photography for a while potentially ever again — there are so many nice things at home and I'm an introvert so going outside is something I feel a need a reason to do.

Still there's this voice telling me to go do stuff. There are tasks and errands. I went to the library to collect part of my overly large stack of holds and then went to Old Navy because they allegedly had a sale on pants — the pants process took forever and ended in my buying two pairs of pants I have and like and that look kind of fancy so you can pretend to be a real person in them. I didn't find any jeans. Buying jeans is awful. I need to find somewhere new to buy jeans that are either cheap or that last. Damn you cycling. 

I am done my SAIT program so I no longer have somewhere to be and things to do. I won't be speaking to people all the time. I won't need to appear somewhere each morning. I could honestly never go outside again.

Anyways I don't feel like going outside. I went on Facebook and Facebook told me not to go outside. So stay inside kids. The outside world is dangerous and scary and sometimes you have to buy new pants.

Bike hunt

We are on a very important hunt, and taking one of the most important steps towards becoming a true resident of Copenhagen: we must find a bike. I have never walked this far down the street. The city is still new to me. We walk past trendy stores and coffee shops to an area that is filled with kebab shops. By the time we get there it seems like we have been walking for ages. The store has a reputation for selling cheap bikes, that is all. They are not necessarily good, and were probably stolen, but they are cheap and we are students.

The storefront itself comes off as being small. Incredibly small. Smaller than our living room. It is filled with wheels and accessories that he will try to sell us at unreasonable prices. This is the beginning. We step through dodging items as we go along and trying our hardest to shake the felling that this place is very very sketchy. We enter a courtyard and find numerous bikes lined up. None have price tags. We’re told that some belong to other residents of the building but not which. A vague hand motion is not enough to make me feel certain. Then we find it. Down a half-storey of steps there is a basement that must be home to half the bicycles in Copenhagen. They are shoved row on row with some hanging from the roof. There is no way to get any of them out. Not all of them look mechanically sound. Quantity over quality. The man who owns the store greets up. He works his way easily through the muck of bikes and takes us out to the courtyard. These are the bikes he wants to sell us and we’re not really in any position to object.

Then the summer I spent working at a bike store hits me. My friends know nothing about these machines and how questionable they are. They know nothing about locks or bike lights but I do. I know that these bikes are less than mechanically sound, but then again we’re going to be leaving them out in the rain for the next few months so what difference does it really make?

Bikes are selected with a sure why not style. We are glad to get out of that place and hope our new bikes are worth what we paid.