A Faraway Autumn

As I cycle along the streets, the smell of autumn starts to drift up my nose, hinting of watery leaves and cinnamon — peculiar smells I have never encountered before. In the distance I see how the canals and bridges intertwine with the streets, and… those colours all together! The trees of mid-November reveal orange, yellow and red hues; this truly is autumn!

As I cycle along the streets, I feel the wind rushing, carrying a biting cold I’ve never felt before, pricking the skin of my face. My hands, well-used to subtropical warmth, are begging for a pair of gloves. I thought I liked cold days… So, is this autumn? Yes, this is autumn for sure.

As I cycle along the streets, I hear a woman say to her child, ‘Let op voor de plassen op de straat!’ Yes, it has been raining all day long. Oh, wait, did I understand that correctly? My ears can’t comprehend that distant language. How could I have ever imagined I would cope?

As I cycle along the streets, I get closer to the park. I see the red, brown and orange of the wet maple leaves; they have just fallen to the ground. There are no maple trees where I am from. I remember that wise Peter told me I shouldn’t ride over them, as I could slide and fall. I should pay attention to someone who has been cycling since he was born. 

As I cycle along the streets, I look up at the grey skies and realise that I have not seen the sun in three weeks and that my skin is turning into a greenish hue. That same skin that used to bask in the sun all year long. How would I explain this to my parents?

As I cycle along the streets, I hear a group of children talking about ‘Sinterklaas’; this old man comes from Alicante in Spain with a big red bag of presents on the 5th of December. Have I heard of him? Oh, I thought his name was Santa Clause from the North Pole, and he left the presents on the 25th… maybe this is Sinterklaas, his impatient Spanish friend?

As I cycle along the streets, I see the day turning to twilight at 5 o’clock and new lights hanging in the windows added to those already in the streets. Streets full of old Dutch houses, each right next to the other, with those long facades and really funny roof shapes; I could never have imagined it. It’s getting late and I should go back home.

As I get off the bike, at that exact moment, all these images come alive in my head and something whispers in my ear, ‘You are cycling in a faraway country, and this is autumn.’ The autumn I had only seen in the movies, that autumn I had never experienced, that distant yellow autumn. Let’s talk to little Mili and say her childhood dream has come true.