Bike Share report

Note to self: -> "OPTIMISING BIKE SHARING IN EUROPEAN CITIES: A HANDBOOK"
80+ page report by many contributors, for OBIS. June 2011 (7.6MB pdf)
http://bit.ly/qYiw5y
Via ECF Newsletter: http://bit.ly/pIcul2
"Here’s a great report on existing bike share systems throughout Europe. It’s invaluable in identifying key features in successful systems."

more children on bicycles in Paris

Likewise, here's more support of my statement about more children riding on bicycles in Paris.
 

Helmets in Paris

I was worried no one would believe me that people are wearing helmets all over Paris. Here are a few more photos as proof.
 

 

 

adventures with my baby: at long last

C found her feet in Mallorca,
 

learned to roll over in Poitou,
 

(1)
and outgrew all her clothes in Switzerland.
 

What an adventure! We’ve been home now for some time, but it’s been madness, I tell you, madness, and I’m just getting to finishing up our story now.

After Switzerland, we returned to the dirty, delicious bicycle city that Paris is now. I noticed more people on their own bikes (as opposed to Velib, the City's bike share system)
 

more children on bikes,
 

and a lot of helmets.
 

Parisiens didn’t used to wear helmets because it would mess up their hair. Now, I guess athleticism is in style, for one thing, and for another, they’ve discovered Nutcase (I'll dig up a photo but can't put my fingers on one now).

My Parisiens have always walked for exercise. But now the city is filled with wayfinding signage, a campaign to promote walking for health. Of course, it’s French; so, it’s beautiful.
 

 

Another difference I noticed this time is more English being spoken. Not only that, but a lot of graffiti was in English too. J pointed out that a lot of the graffiti she’s seen appeared to be a string of English words that made no sense. But what’s changed? G burned me a CD of French musicians singing in English, another new phenomenon. They used to sound silly, my friends claimed, and now they sound good. The Euro? Economic collapse? C, of course, continues to prefer bad music. Alas!

Paris real estate prices have gone the way of San Francisco's. Theory or fact: people want to put their money in something concrete because the stock market is unreliable. Tina told me that their apartment had appreciated like 50% in the 6 months since they bought it (exact number not available).

Flight home, I watched No Strings Attached which I had kinda wanted to see (I love bad romantic comedy), but I found it to be completely charmless. Also, the main characters’ first hookup is not realistic because of a basic bad breath issue. It’s as if the writers/directors had never known anyone who had an all-night bender. It makes people’s breath stink (duh!), which makes other people not want to have sex with them. (Double duh!)

(1) This photo was actually shot in Paris.

adventures with my baby: thoughts and observations

Breastfeeding, apparently, isn’t very common here. J said that most French mothers she knows only breastfeed for the first few weeks. She also observed how much easier it is for me to feed C than these French mothers who have to organize bottles all the time. I really had the impression that the Europeans would be more advanced on this matter but alas. I guess it’s a bit like Italy where everyone just schedules their c-sections rather than waiting for a natural birth.

A major difference I noticed in Paris this time, compared with previous visits, is that people are wearing bicycle helmets – often the stylish ones but sometimes just the athletic helmets. Of course photos will follow.

They asked me if I thought it was strange that we permit children to drive at 16, vote at 18 and drink at 21. I believe everyone is allowed to do everything here at 18. I asked J when she thought people should be permitted to do things. She said that there should be no limit on drinking, that people should only be allowed to drive from age 40 to 60 (when our bodies start to fall apart but before our sight and brain begin to go), and since she is in charge, no one would need to vote anyway.

typical in Portland?

I saw this in Portland, OR last fall. Given that the city is a US bicycle Mecca, I wonder if the people prefer unicycles even more because one wheel is less resource intensive than two?

Ramona Wheelright

You probably already know Ramona. She's a fellow bike enthusiast and blogger.

Check out her awesome Soma drop-bar frame bike, too. I think she told me she customized it herself! H O T, hu?


PS, I'm at home with my new baby for now, but she no longer requires me undivided attention 24-7. So, I'll be housekeeping photos and blog entries too. Enjoy!

Contra-flow

Here, my sister has stopped to admire one of the City's contra-flow bike lanes. See how it says "Do Not Enter. Except Bicycles." It's a quick and lovely way into Golden Gate Park.

Red Onion Lottery

I got some groceries last weekend -- everything fit in one pannier and one tote bungeed to the top of my rack. Half way home, a red onion rested in the bike lane on Harrison. Since nothing seemed to be wrong with it, and it was quite beautiful, I stopped to pick it up. Then, I noticed another one nearby. I picked that one up too. Thinking I had won the Red Onion Lottery and that was a bit strange, I glanced around.

Another cyclist was on the sidewalk nearby. He looked up at me and saw me holding the two red onions. "Oh, that's mine," he said. "My bag broke." And he motioned towards the sidewalk where a huge, broken bag of granola rested. What a bummer. He explained that not everything fit into the one bag he had left: his backpack, now bursting at the seams!

So, I gave him my extra tote. It was gifted to me when I volunteered at Sunday Streets. I keep it in my purse at all times in case of unplanned shopping because it folds up so small. He was very grateful and promised to return it (I gave him my address), but I didn't really expect him to.

Low and behold, the next day, resting in my entry hall, not just my tote, but also a little thank you note and... you guessed it! A red onion!

Adventure to West Point Inn

After Meli's profile of me as a woman "who rides the distance", I was inspired to share this story with you.

Last fall, K and I planned to bike up to the top of Mt. Tam and spend the night at the West Point Inn. Here she is in Sausalito getting some air.

As we climbed the hill, the view got lovely.

We stopped to enjoy it!






While you see us smiling here, the trip was not a complete success. Once we reached the West Point Inn, right exactly at the end of check-in time, we learned that a lightning threat meant the mountain needed to be evacuated!

Sadly, there was no way of making it back in the light, and we weren't carrying any. So, we dawdled, snacking on our dinner and enjoying the view until the very last moment and then biked home in the dark.

The moral of the story? Maybe don't plan to stay at the West Point Inn in the fall and ride your bike to get there. Otherwise, we'll just have to try again another time in another season.

Grandma on a Bike

Fridays, I usually work from home. Today, I was listening to Forum on KQED radio about San Francisco's transportation systems. Several people asserted that bicycle infrastructure was only useful for people in their 20s and 30s. The MTA representative asserted that this is only because our existing bicycle infrastructure is inadequate which is a nice spin on the amo.

First of all, people in their 20s and 30s are a large portion of our City's population. Second of all, it isn't true that they're the only people biking on our streets. Towards that end, I'm posting the following photos of one of my favorite "grandmas on a bike".

What a classy lady! I love her cardigan and stripes. The sunglasses are perfect!

You may not be able to tell, but she's riding a beautiful Rivendell bike. You can tell that today's ride isn't a fluke -- she rides all the time. What good taste all around!

(She told me she got as far as the park before she realized she'd forgotten her helmet, and was now headed home to retrieve it.)

quote of the day

From the SVBC bulletin:
"I relax by taking my bicycle apart and putting it back together again."
-Michelle Pfeiffer

ViaVelo

This made me smile.

LA Journal, part 1... I hope....

My plane left at 8:45, which seemed like a perfectly reasonable hour when I booked the ticket. I arrived in LA at 10, Santa Monica by 11. On the bus from LAX I met a couple foreign boys studying business in Malibu who kindly gave me directions. They also observed that hamburgers are available on every street corner in the US.
What did you expect? I asked.
Steak, maybe, he replied.
The Pole told me of his obsession with Taco Bell, to which I shook my head. Why not try to get real Mexican food? He wasn’t convinced.
He also talked about Bay Watch, but the German instructed him never to talk to women about that show. (He said they’d seen it being filmed. It was a highlight.)

Without knowing where I wanted to go, they instructed me on where to get off the bus. I had to trek back a few blocks to the Santa Monica Pier where I planned to rent a bike. It was a fun detour since I got pulled into a market research study about chocolate covered almonds on the way. It began with a few simple questions about my eating habits. It’s always fun to be asked questions I know the answer to like that. Then I was instructed to taste 2 different kinds of almonds and rank my preference based on appearance and flavor, and describe why. Finally, for an additional $5 (the first part earned me a Starbucks card), I did an oral interview about my perception of different brands of almonds. Almonds aren’t that much different than buses; it was almost like work!

So, I rented a turquoise lady’s beach cruiser, and my bag was terribly heavy still despite all plans to pack light. I asked for “a bike, a helmet, a basket and a lock.” And the guy said “so, the works, hu?” With the map, he gave me directions along the beach bike path, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had no plans to bike along it but that I was going straight into the city.

By now it was after noon, and I wanted lunch. Under the direction of Yelp, I had selected an Bay Cities Italian Deli and Bakery which Yelp called “an institution”. It was more like an Italian deli and grocery shop with beautiful assortments of capers, sea salt, lemons in jars, peppers in jars, cookies, etc. I got out of there with “The Godmother” sandwich, a little Greek salad, and a box of mini cantalones. The place was mobbed, and procuring lunch took about an hour.
Overheard: now I know why this place is only for special occasions.
I ate at a table in the parking lot with sun-hat and –glasses. A mother and daughter (about 12), also celebrating something, joined me; I eyed the daughter’s meatball sandwich.

From there, I biked up Broadway, the closest adjacent street with a bike lane, to the Santa Monica Art Museum and the Bergamot Station which is filled with art galleries. The one exhibit that I found really interesting was in the far corner and involved acrylic cubes that formed 3D shapes such as a monkey and human scull, male and female human bodies with the internal organs, and a number of trees. If you looked at them from the side all you saw was clear acrylic.

Walking into one gallery, I greeted the person behind the desk as usual. He replied “Why are you so happy?” – I didn’t know I was “so happy” but I’ll take it. He spoke slowly and took a long time to get the point. I asked if the paintings were, more or less, done from photographs (most were of lovely blond young girls in surreal settings). And somehow we got into an impassioned (for him) conversation about artists over-pricing their art. Eventually, I pretended to get a phone call (something I almost never do) and snuck away to the restroom.

The Museum showed a movie of Jerusalem: the devout Jews blocking off the roadways to their neighborhoods for the Sabbath presenting a separation between two ways of life and thought in Israel.

Looking at art is exhausting, but I lasted as long as I could. I went from there to the Co-Opportunity Grocery Store, possibly LA’s only hippy-dippy co-op grocery store (?). I got some wine for Linda and Roger, Carolyn’s parents, who had kindly agreed to host me.

Classy Nails, found through yelp, was my next destination, and spending a hour getting pampered and having my nails tended was just what the doctor ordered. It wasn’t easy to find a color that matched the red of my dress for all of their 15+ available shades of red, but I think I did OK.

Then back to the beach to return the bike before meeting Rachel for dinner.

…

My first night here, I pulled off the shelf a book called “getting the love you want” a guide for couples. Saturday morning, Roger was trying to leave for Idaho and missing his book, it turned out the same one. (He called it a “convergence” that of all the books on their shelves, that’s the one I selected to read before sleep.) As a consolation prize, he suggested I look at “Lives in Progress” (Robert W. White).

More to follow… hopefully….

Bicycle Music Festival

I'm finally getting around to editing my photos from last summer's bicycle music festival. I'll probably hold them off from release until shortly before the 2010 event, but I wanted to share this one with you now as I love it particularly.

Doesn't she look great? Features not to miss: her yellow striped socks, the reflection in her helmet, and that lovely blue color on her skirt. Thanks, mystery lady. You made my day.

Do you recognise this woman?

You shouldn't since she isn't real. She does appear to be a composite including myself and many women I know. None of us, however, "fuck on the first date." I, for example, shoot for the fifth. That said, I live in the Mission, my boobs (if you want to call them that) are real, I've never owned a car, and my phone is from 2004 (so ha! Out-done is pretend woman!).

"My bicycle is my lover."

Bike racing does nothing for me. I'm happy for those people, because they're happy. But they can be a small obstruction in our global transformation to bringing the bicycle into the mainstream. You know, all that spandex.

This video about Jacquie Phelan paused those views. I mean, check out those pockadots, awesome tights, even the tea pot. And I liked it when she said that the bicycle is not just a personal transportation vehicle but also a personal transformation vehicle.

I ride for fun!

Lots of fun things aren't also good for you, your community and the planet. Thank heavens we found the bike!

DIY bamboo bikes

Check this out! A studio in Brooklyn offers classes for people to make their own bamboo bikes. My question: Can I make one with beautiful lugs?

cute song

Ride a bike = feel like super girl