Ride an old bicycle and be an Amsterdammer for a day

In the morning light at Amsterdam Central Station, the iron door of the car rental agency rolled up with a "clatter". Eight hundred second-hand bicycles were neatly arranged, the dew condensed on the seats and handlebars reflecting the morning light, like antiques that had just driven out of Van Gogh's "Night Cafe". With a density of 1.3 bicycles per capita, this city has woven the most complex cycling network in the world. When I mounted the mount that was covered with traces of time, I was instantly swept into the torrent of bicycles in the early morning, becoming a stroke of paint in this flowing oil painting. Amsterdam's canals are the pulse of the city and the soul of cycling. Riding along the Prince's Canal, the morning mist has not yet dissipated, and the seagulls perched on the cast iron bridge railings tilt their heads to look at the passing traffic. The six-story gabled building from the 17th century is reflected in the dark green water, and the mottled marks on the brick walls tell of the former glory of the East India Company's merchant ships. Amid the jingling of the carriage bells, the bells of St. Nicholas Church suddenly rang, startling a flock of pigeons. Their wings swept over the handlebars, casting fleeting shadows on the surface of the canal. The spire of the West Church at the corner points straight to the sky. This bell tower that Anne Frank once looked up to is now a natural landmark for cyclists. Passing through the canal district, the cobblestone roads rock your wheels into a lullaby of the Dutch Golden Age. Deep in the narrow alleys of the Jordan District, the canal suddenly narrows into a narrow path that is only wide enough for bicycles. The silver-haired old man who was coming towards me calmly turned aside, with dark purple tulips in his bicycle basket. The petals brushed against his sleeves, and the tacit understanding was better than all traffic signals - as the locals said: "In Amsterdam, the rhythm of bicycles is the breath of the city." The sweet aroma of caramel waffles wafted from the bakery on the corner of 14 Street, mixed with the dampness of the canal water, brewing a unique city flavor. In front of the flower shop, an old florist on a tricycle was watering a wooden shoe-shaped flowerpot. The water droplets splashed on the spokes and refracted tiny rainbows, as if entering into Van Gogh's dream of blooming irises. Cycling along the Museum Canal, the Gothic spire of the Rijksmuseum gradually becomes clear. This "art ark" houses Rembrandt's "Night Watch", but what is even more moving is the thousands of bicycles parked in the square in front of the museum - they are stacked like a mountain like modern installation art, echoing the oil paintings of the golden age in the museum. Turning into the boulevard of Vondelpark, young people were having a picnic on the lawn, with folding bicycles leaning against the trees, baguettes and sunflowers sticking out of the baskets. The outer wall of the Van Gogh Museum on the east side of the park is digitally projected with "Starry Night". Riding here, it feels like traveling through the painter's brushstrokes. As dusk dyed the canal into Rembrandt's warm brown tones, the returned bicycle frames still retained the warmth of four hundred years. Amsterdammers often say, "Cars carry the body, bicycles carry the soul." The reflections of the canal awakened by the bicycle bells, the morning breeze shared with seagulls, and the smiles exchanged in the narrow alleys have now turned into starlight in the bicycle basket. In this city that rejects the worship of speed, the most luxurious way to travel is to ride an old bicycle and let time flow quietly between the spokes.