Sometimes I forget that I'm living in Europe.  I'm overwhelmed by the buzz of daily activity.  I'm pushing my way through the rain and fog.  I'm navigating crowds of people, people everywhere... And in the process, I forget that I live in a place that actually represents something of a "dream vacation destination" for a lot of the people back where I come from.  I live in the "enchanted land of bicycles, cozy cafes, and 17th century architecture."  I speak its languages.  I know my way around.  I call this place home.

Perhaps it sounds ludicrous -- and in fact, it is a bit silly and certainly idealized -- to think about Amsterdam in these terms... but it is significant to remember that one man's daily commute is another man's postcard.

For me, this point is driven home clearly each day when I ride my bicycle between my house in Amsterdam Oost and the place where I work in the city center.  On the way, almost every day of the week, I pedal past (and sometimes over) the famous Magere Brug ("Skinny Bridge") spanning the Amstel River.  This same bridge can be seen on numerous postcards sold throughout the city.  Many of the canal boat tours make a deliberate swing past this historic drawbridge, to allow their passengers to snap pictures of the bridge.  At least 50 percent of the time that I'm crossing the bridge, there is a young couple posing close together with a camera at arm's length to capture their special moment on the Magere Brug.

Yet to me, it's basically just a bridge -- a way across the river.

When I really think about it, though, I realize what a special joy and privilege it is to be able to call the Magere Brug a part of my daily commute. This time of the year -- when darkness is creeping further and further into the beginning and end of each day -- it seems especially magical to pedal my bicycle up, up, and over the crest of the Magere Brug, lit up like a Christmas tree, the old center of the city on one side of me and the Amstel business district on the other side.  With the lights of the city sparkling off the gentle waters of the Amstel and the stars sparkling in the deep blue sky overhead (at least when clouds aren't covereing it up), it really is beautiful.  Breathtaking, even.

Indeed, I am blessed.  I can't promise that I'll always feel joyful and encouraged when I'm on my way to a meeting or busting my butt to get home in time for dinner -- but every now and then, I hope I'll be able to remember to stop and enjoy the view.