It is the third day of my biking tour; I am on the road with green fields stretched as far as the sight goes. It’s the countryside of Estonia. My legs are moving in a mechanical fashion, and my mind is wandering all over the places. It takes me back to the time I was on a Plane to Estonia for the first time.

How would the places be? Will I be able to bear the harsh weather, cold attitude, and an alien language? Coming to a place with only over a million residents from home of 220 Million, a feeling of loneliness was prevailing. What if I just couldn’t adapt to the new environment. What if?

I look at the time. It’s still 5 more hours before I end today’s ride. My bike is moving forward, but my mind is in reverse gear. I think about the last year; how the days passed. I got busy in studies, and it didn’t take me long to settle in the new environment. I found that it’s not that difficult, after all. In fact, at times, it felt even better to be here. Although its cold most part of the year, it’s not depressing. It gets dark very early, but it is not gloomy. People are cold and reserved, but it’s better than being warm and bully. Estonia is green, nature is beautiful, and the countryside is mesmerizing. After one year of being in Tallinn, I learned that people shy away from foreigners, but that doesn’t cause inconvenience in the routine work as technology has taken over the better part of society. It has been a good one year.

A car passes by, snapping me back in the present. I look forward, all I see is black road merging in a clear blue sky. I glance to my left and right and find green fields running in the opposite direction while I standstill on a quiet asphalt road. A house also passes by me quietly as if it is trying to hide its existence. The landscape holds me captive as reality merges with my memories and takes me back to my home country Pakistan where a 13-year-old me is sitting on a crowded bus, looking outside from the tinted window of the bus. A boy of the same age is biking on the road. The road is pitch black with its curbs decorated with beautiful flowers creating an alluring canvas. He pedals slowly, and I wish if I could ever bike on such a clean and beautiful place. It doesn’t take long for the bus to move away to the same old, monotonous, and dreary landscape, which features dull buildings and busy people. I look down at the road from the window and it merges with the one I am pedaling on right now. My bike meter is showing 25 km/h – a decent speed for a long-distance cyclist. I take out my phone to capture the landscape, but it doesn’t justify what I am seeing. I save a memory anyway. I realize that I have been blessed with more than I wished for. I continue pedaling.

I love biking. It’s the feeling of motion with an element of stillness. When combined with the tranquillity of the Estonian countryside, it becomes even more fascinating. The solitude Estonian countryside offer doesn’t compare to anywhere else. Meandering roads with absolutely no people around provide you with the liberty to be with your own thoughts. That sort of liberty is a gift, is it not? As you pedal your way, the wind softly kisses your face, your heartbeat synchronizes with the song of nature, and you subtly fall in love. You wish to reach the destination, but deep down, you don’t want the road to end. You feel that it’s something exceptional, something that is meant for you only and something that you’ll never be able to explain to anyone else. You stop the bike and sit down at the bank of the road. You want to be present in this very moment, and that’s the moment when you realize that you should never bike in Estonia. Because if you do, you won’t be the same person again, and you will never be able to enjoy your rides because there’s nothing comparable to biking in the countryside of Estonia.