De Ronde Van Vlaanderen

FLANDERS!

Spring Break! Whoo Hoo!

Saturday the 31st of March marked the beginning of a wonderful trip. Although that day itself was diminished by time zones, it was exciting to be travelling again.

I arrived at the all-to-familiar Brussels Airport "Zaventam" and only waited a moment for the bike to appear in the oversized baggage area.

As soon as we arrived at Jo's house we unpacked the bike to see if anything was broken. It arrived without a (new) scratch.

What do you do in the spring in Belgium? Watch bicycle racing, of course! I missed the E3 Prijs Vlaanderen by one day, but arrived in time to watch Oscar Friere win the Brabantse Pijl (Brabant is a province of the Flemish part of Belgium, and Pijl means "arrow") in a brilliant sprint. After the race, we walked to the Quickstep team bus to see who might be hanging around:

World Champion and Olympic gold-medalist Paulo Bettini! It was his birthday, so it was really too bad that he abandoned the race and did not finish.

As we were looking at the map to figure out the best way back to Zonhoven, I noticed that a familiar name was on the map in the nearby vicinity: Waterloo. I spent most of the week trying to learn how to correctly pronounce it, but even if I am incapable of getting the "r" right, I can still observe the monument that was built on the fields where Napoleon finally lost. The Dutch King built this monument to honor his son, but atop the mound is the Lion of Flanders, whose face snarls in the direction of Paris.

If only we had arrived sooner we would have been able to climb to the top. As it was, we took a walk around the battlefield (even though much of the area was changed when the monument was built).

"Wa - tur - jgz - luo"

Conveniently, a French soldier appeared to have his picture taken. After the drive back from Waterloo I was sufficiently tired and called it a day.

On Monday morning we went for the first Belgian bike ride, and it was everything I imagined it would be. Quite farm roads, and I am not talking about farm roads in America. Belgian farm roads are about 8 feet wide, which is barely one lane. These roads divide small farms, but because farming is done on a smaller, more private scale in this part of Flanders, these roads meander all through the countryside. It is quite, and the few cars that come along are extremely bike-friendly. The blossoms on the apple, pear, and cherry trees were just coming in, and so we pedaled along in bliss.

Here I am riding next to the Albert Kanal, which goes all the way to Antwerp.

We stopped at a lovely cafe and relaxed in the sun after riding about 20 miles.

On Tuesday we got back in the car and drove east-southeast to Bastogne to see the WWII monument to the soldiers of the Battle of the Bulge. It was odd to see the names of the United States in a part of Belgium where English is not as common.

We drove to Foy and stumble across this monument, which honors the 101st Airborne Division.

Normally there is a very famous old American Tank (A Sherman) that sits in this square behind the bust of General McAuliffe, but a sign said that the tank was "being victimized by rust" or something else not quite translated properly. Oh well.... or should I say "Nuts!"

We returned from Walloon section of Belgium and walked into downtown Hasselt. The town has a really nice, small feel to it, yet it has all the luxuries of a larger city. The rumor on the street is that Robbie Williams has his clothes custom made by a tailor in Hasselt. Hasselt's iron horses:

On Wednesday my host's father's cycling club meets and goes for a bike ride of anywhere from 90 - 120 kilometers (about 60 - 70 miles). They invited me to join them. I think that some of them did not think I would be able to keep up. I will say that it was not easy. This group rides together at least three times per week, and they do not mess around!

Farmland of Flanders:

We stopped after 75 kilometers in a cafe to recharge. The cafe, called "Oud Rycklen," is their destination on every ride. They even have the name of the cafe on their jerseys. We just don't have this atmosphere anywhere in America, but maybe I'll start my own club someday soon... But I doubt I'll find a cafe where I can get individually wrapped waffles:

Another shot of the group as they fly back to Zonhoven. They were bigger fans of Greg Lemond than of Lance Armstrong, or so I gather by the fact that they called me "Alex Lemond".

After the bike ride I met up with another Belgian friend from Prague. It was really great to catch up and hear what old friends have been up to.

On Thursday morning we hit the links, Belgian style! Jo has taken up golfing, at it was all I could do to remember everything my father taught me many years ago.

The course was extremely tight, and I am not making excuses. There was even one hole where the rules stated that if you hit the power-line tower, you had to hit again. Of course, I nailed the tower and in true Happy Gilmore style the ball clanged off the steel tower, knocked solidly on a tree, and came to a stop just a few feet from where I had hit it. Jo tees off:

At this point I have to tell the story of Steve. I've never met Steve, but for a short time I was able to be him. You see, we went to a social club in Brussels where you need to have a business card to get in. I suppose they have something against people without business cards. Luckily, my friend had just met with a Data Analyst-type named Steve and gave me his card. Luckily they didn't ask me any questions about Data! The club was quite nice, and after 10:00 they played excellent music. The only odd thing about the club was that they had a projector displaying various images: Dodge Ram advertisements, EU Currency news (Not news about the currency's value, but news about the people designing the coins for the new EU member states such as Slovenia) or Happy Birthday notices. Why not?

Someday, when I can afford to build my dream house, it might look like this:

Quite modern, wouldn't you say?

We went to Bokrijk on Friday to see some Medieval and Renaissance Flemish history. Here you can see that I was being punished for supporting the Hawkeyes:

After Bokrijk, we went home and prepared ourselves and our bicycles for Saturday...

The Tour of Flanders for Tourists:

A 5:30am departure helped us snag an excellent parking place in Ninove. The Tour of Flanders for tourists is really not meant for tourists. You need to be in a good shape, have a bicycle that you feel really comfortable with, and be prepared for some self-inflicted punishment. This ride could be compared to the Seattle-to-Portland, but instead of the 9,000 that ride the STP, the officials running the event said the total was over 20,000 people. And of the thousands that I saw while I was riding, I specifically remember seeing only 3 women, and 2 boys that looked younger than 16. This ride, for "tourists" is for hardened cyclists who really want to challenge themselves.

Jo and Yves opted for the 75km route, while Marcel and I set out with a goal of 140km.

We rode together for the first 30 kilometers or so, and with so many people the pace was quite high. Eventually we parted ways, and after about 60 kilometers we arrived at the first rest stop in Oudenarde.

Next came the hills: 18 climbs and several kilometers of cobblestones! Bring it on! The only climb that I didn't make it all the way up without stopping was one of the easiest. But because of the cobblestones my water bottle bounced out of my pocket and onto the ground, and I didn't want to just leave it behind. Since I had stopped, I took a minute to snap a photo. Don't be fooled: The smooth-looking section on the left of the picture only lasts for about 20 meters. The rest of the half-mile hill is made of big fist-sized rocks put together to make a road. The kind of road that turns your front wheel into a jackhammer that rocks your fingers, wrists, elbows, shoulders, back, and neck. Even your eyeballs start to suffer from the vibrations. But, as I mentioned, this is an activity for tourists!

I was overheating due to the ideal weather, so I tossed an old STP jacket from 2005. Bye!

Here is a mini-stop where they were handing out Pepsi Max. For the tourists.

After summitting the famous hill known as the Paterberg (with a 20% maximum grade) all that was left was the Muur von Geraarsbergen. Up and up and up the road went, before finally turning into a cobbled path no wider than 2 meters, and with a 19% grade! In my easiest gear I was straining, huffing, and puffing. Luckily I didn't get stuck behind someone who couldn't go any farther, which is probably the worst thing that can happen. If you have to stop, you'll never get started again. Even the pros who stop know that they have to walk (or run) to the top to get going. Once at the top I waited to take Marcel's picture, but he snuck past me somehow. Here are all the cyclo-tourists at the very top:

Less than an hour after topping the Muur I snapped this self-portrait as I approached the finish line. It's quite a feeling zipping along the actual finishing stretch. After riding the course it is much easier to appreciate how incredibly talented, determined, and strong the professional racers are.

Back at the starting line it was chaos as people were still starting to ride while we were collecting our certificates and free water bottles.Here it is: Proof! 149.53 kilometers over some serious hills and cobblestones! In the background is the "diploma" that they gave us for finishing! It's now on display in my classroom.

After the ride we celebrated in Hasselt.

Sunday morning! We drove to the Muur, which we had ridden our bikes over barely 24 hours previous, and we set up shop and relaxed in the sunshine while waiting for the pro race to come by.

The women's race, which I did not see last year, came over the Muur. These women were flying.

After a few hours of listening to the race on the radio and taking periodic breaks to walk up the hill and check the televisions, we knew that the pros would be coming by soon. The sound of helicopters told us that the race was about to arrive:

Allesandro Ballan was first up the Muur!

He was absolutely flying past us, going up the same exact hill I'd biked the day before.

Big Tom Boonen was only a few seconds behind, but he wasn't as strong this year.

World Champion Paolo Bettini:

Fabian Cancellara chases a large group to the top of the Muur:

Gert Steegmans is a Quick-Step rider who lives in Hasselt. We saw him while he was on a training ride on Monday. Here is he fighting his way up the Muur:

We walked down the hill after the riders had gone by and watched the finish on the big screen. Allesandro Ballan wins! The Belgians were not at all pleased to have their "home" race won by an Italian, but it was great, exciting racing and so it was hard to be too disappointed.

Since it was Easter Sunday, we had a difficult time finding a Friture that was open, but we found one (filled with families enjoying their Easter dinner of fries!). Fritures are in direct competition with Kabab for the fast food of choice in Belgium. Basically, they are specialty restaraunts that feature French fries, and a few other things to go with them. Yum! Load up the Mayo and you're all set!

Suddenly it was Monday, and I boarded this and headed home!You-know-who's flight was delayed, but we were able to see each other before midnight on Monday.

Thanks for reading. I know this one was long, but I didn't really want to break it up into pieces.

Enjoy the springtime, and get out on those bikes in preparation for the DoubleDay!