by Alex Marshall, Editor, Spotlight on the Region
A Spanish tortilla, unlike the Mexican version, is essentially a potato omelet. You fry some diced-up onions and potatoes in oil, and then pour in some beaten egg. Flip it over, and voila, you have a tasty, round golden thing to cut into slices and eat.
A Spanish tortilla, unlike the Mexican version, is essentially a potato omelet. You fry some diced-up onions and potatoes in oil, and then pour in some beaten egg. Flip it over, and voila, you have a tasty, round golden thing to cut into slices and eat.
Back when I was living in Spain some 25 years ago, I made them all the time and my American friends and I marveled at how easy it was to make a tasty, nutritious and cheap dish. We vowed, when we returned to the states, to make them often. But when I did, I made a Spanish tortilla probably once, maybe twice, and then never again.
Why? I still love Spanish tortillas. The ingredients are readily abundant. And I love to cook. But something about the context I'm in, the culture, to use the C word, does not induce or encourage me to do so.
I think about Spanish tortillas, and my lack of making them, when I have repeatedly chosen not to do something else these last few grey, cold winter months, which is ride my bicycle.
As readers of Spotlight will know, last summer and fall, I got into bicycling to work and around my home borough of Brooklyn. I was surprised by how easily I adapted to commuting from Prospect Heights, over the Brooklyn Bridge, to Union Square by bicycle. And how much I liked it. I foresaw a regular status as a bicycling commuter in my future.
Then, as the air turned chilly and then cold, and as rain and sometimes snow became a more frequent companion, I stopped. Without planning, my bicycle sat forlornly outside, tied to its rack, ready to go at a moment's notice but no longer called on. I hadn't planned it that way.
People could point to my own laziness, my own lack of fortitude, my inner wimp, and they would be correct. But there's more at work here.
In December 2004 I spent the holidays in Amsterdam during an unusually cold spell. I marveled at how Amsterdamites of all ages and gender cycled through the streets in the bitter cold. Hands on the handlebars, heads held high, they seemed not only willing to cycle in such weather but enjoy it as well. Eventually I joined them, and I have a photo of my wife and I on bikes, our faces bright red.
Culture and context matters. If my friends and family members were riding off to work, to church, or to school in the cold, I likely would too, without complaint. Regular winter-weather cyclists tell me it's not such a big deal. With just a hat and some gloves, you can ride pretty easily in the cold.
New York City, in particular the Department of Transportation, is putting a lot of energy into making cycling more of an option. Officials are not only putting in things like bike lanes, they are paying some attention to the laws governing the interactions between cyclists and motorists and have campaigned for motorists to pay more attention to cyclists.
These are the usual tools of an urban planner or designer. Physically laying down a rail line, a road or a bike path. Writing laws that affect how motorists and cyclists and pedestrians interact in the public right of way. Publicity campaigns that argue for seat belt wearing or watching out for cyclists more.
With these tools, planners not only change the physical and legal environment, but the cultural one. Eventually, and it's already happening, I will see more and more cyclists out there in less than fair weather. And eventually, I will be one of them.
@RegionalPlan
Leave a comment