Summer is over. Those 9am lectures, once a distant threat, are now an ever-present reality, plaguing previous days of bed cocoons and nighttime butterflies. Campus life has been reborn and we, the (supposedly) fresh faced, wide-eyed students, are expected to attend. The way we do this, however, is up to us.
This article is not – disclaimer alert – a discussion about the appropriate attire or level of sobriety on Nottingham campus. Instead, I’m focusing on modes of transport; namely, the means by which students slog from their impossibly cosy beds to the ever dimly lit lecture halls.
Transport, love it or loathe it, forms an integral part of ones perceptions towards each setting or situation we stumble across. Whilst getting us from A to B, our chosen method of movement envelopes us, entertains us and (possibly) enriches our daily lives. On begrudgingly re-joining the march across the blustery streets of Lenton Boulevard, the thought occurred to me: are Nottingham students really making the most of their morning commute?
The usual scenery of the Lenton to Campus Commute
(Google maps style)
Amsterdam (my previous place of residence) was bike crazy. The Dutch Metropolis is connected by an elaborate network of cycle routes and fosters a magnetic culture of two-wheeled activity. For past visitors, you know exactly what I’m babbling on about! Most likely, you’ve already been almost knocked over by a speeding Dutch resident whilst obviously standing in the cycle lane. For future travellers, get ready to jump out of the way and marvel at the possibilities of pedal power. The city is part of a biking bonanza, in which I was (briefly) a proud member.
The sea of bicycles outside central station
Each day, I emerged from my dorm room in Amstelveen (a student complex just south of the city) and hopped on my sturdy bike. The commute was 30-minutes long, similar to the Lenton-Campus walk. Yet, despite the brutal time of departure, this daily journey is one of my fondest memories of my time there.
Passing windmills, animal life, the Amstel River, stylish boathouses, colonial terraces and iconic tourist attractions, I would pedal my way to those 9am starts. It felt almost magical, shaping my sentiments towards the city and its people. My fellow commuters included suited up businessmen and clacking children, all of us floating in a sea of bicycles.
My first bike picture out in the sunshine
When I finally arrived at University, I felt invigorated, awakened by hearty exercise and (admittedly) light perspiration. My 9am commute was not a drag, but a revitalizing daily ritual leading up to momenst of heightened intellectual attention. My classmates and I shared the same red glow and zeal of accomplishment, surviving another day of bike-tastic mania.
Of course, in Nottingham, we have bikes. Indeed, there are individuals who brave the busy roads to campus each day (and to you, I have the deepest respect.) But we lack this all-encompassing, citywide infatuation towards cycling. The students of Nottingham have simply not discovered the joys of the biking bonanza.
The two-legged slog or the overcrowded buses are the mainstream methods of transportation. There is no mass movement to buy two-wheelers and wobble up together each day. There is no fervent encouragement for eco-friendly, culturally stimulating pedal power. But, why the hell not?
Granted, we can’t recreate the bike-friendly terrain of the Netherlands or expect the same cycle-based city streets. Nevertheless, this method of transport should not be sidestepped so easily. As the Dutch demonstrate, travel doesn’t have to be a tiresome, tedious affair and, perhaps, current methods of commuting deserve reconsideration to make 9ams just a little bit more bearable.
Edited by Tia Ralhan
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