Munich

While entire social strata in Munich regularly hop onto their bicycles, many people in my hometown of Abidjan simply see it as a child’s toy. Most families purchase a bike for only one reason: so their offspring can happily pedal about in the park. This is where the interest in two wheels ends for people in Abidjan.

For most of them, riding a bicycle on public streets is far too risky; worse, it’s life threatening. First of all, because there are no bicycle lanes. Whoever wants to ride a bike has to either roll down the pavements, which the pedestrians understandably find quite annoying, or fight with the cars for precious space on the streets. Many motorists in Abidjan venerate speed. As soon as they get into their car, they are transformed into real formula one racers. They have no problem racing through the city at more than 100 kilometres per hour. To ride a bicycle in these surroundings would be absolutely suicidal.

Yet, there is also a social reason for the lack of love for cycling. People in Abidjan give preference to the automobile because it is a symbol of social status. In their eyes, a bicycle symbolizes poverty. That is why you rarely see bicycles on the streets of Abidjan, with the exception of a few athletic types at the weekend. Bicycles are the least appreciated means of transport of the people in my country. What a difference to Munich. In Munich there are not only beautiful buildings and well-planned streets. The city also offers an unusual and dazzling spectacle of bicycles cruising down the city’s major traffic arteries. The bicycle is more than a simple means of transportation, it is an attitude.

Every morning, the people of Munich hop onto their two wheels and off they go through town. No pressure, no stress; these contraptions are everywhere in the city. On Rotkreuzplatz, for example, conscientiously locked cycles are enthroned. One of them belongs to Sandra Voss, a student who has come here to purchase bananas and oranges. “I ride a bike because it’s practical. You’re fast and save time,” she says with a smile.

Or on Marienplatz in the heart of Munich. Kaufingerstrasse is officially a pedestrian zone, but some locals dare to enter it on two wheels. Others prefer to park their bikes and do their shopping on foot. This is the case for Manfred: “I rode my bike because it takes me only ten minutes or less to get back home. If I took the underground, if you count waiting, I’d need at least fifteen minutes.”

Even the mayor cycles

Even the city’s mayor rides a bike. Thousands of people, from simple citizens to the top ranks of the city council, use the two-wheeled vehicles to move about. Even businessmen in their suits and ties cycle through the city to their offices every morning.

This doesn’t mean that life for cyclists in Munich is always rosy. “Of course, bicycles have disadvantages,” admits a staunch biker. “It’s difficult when it’s raining or if you’ve got large items to transport.” Not to mention the duties of maintenance – and thefts in particular. There are occasional thieves, I’m told, who only borrow a bike for a short time and then leave it somewhere.

Then there are thieves who belong to well-organized groups. They come with pliers, load the bikes into vans and take them away. Every year, about 6,000 bicycles are stolen in Munich. That’s 16.8 bicycles per day! A huge amount. The thieves can sell their loot for good money. Even the police regularly auction off the bicycles they confiscate from thieves whose owners they cannot locate.

“The bikes here, it’s crazy,” marvels Françoise Husson, a tourist from France, “there are so many bicycles on the streets. I’ve never seen anything like it.” I know how she feels.