April 26, 2005 Beautiful Belgium: Endive, cycling, chocolate, rain, beer, French fries and mayonnaise... On Friday I flew from Girona to Brussels for the first World Cup XC race of the season. It was my first time in Belgium and it turned out to be quite the adventure. First, these are the preconceptions I had about Belgium: - it's completely flat - it rains all the time - everyone loves cycling Complications I landed in the Brussels South airport without a hitch. I had made plans to meet up with Trish Sinclair (another Canadian bike racer who is training in Spain) so we could take the train together to our hotel in Spa. When I came out of the gate, I didn't see Trish anywhere. I searched for a few minutes, but the airport was small and it didn't take me long to realize that she wasn't around. I asked at the info desk when the flight from Barcelona had arrived (Trish was supposed arrive an hour before me). The info lady told me that all flights from Barcelona arrive at the Brussels City Airport, not Brussels South and that the other airport was about an hour away. I decided there was no point in trying to catch Trish at the other airport, so I inquired about the train. Turns out I had to take a city bus to the train station, and then change trains twice in order to get to Spa. Note that I had my giant Trico bike case, which probably weighed over 30 Kilos. I had put everything in there: bike, trainer, clothing, shoes, tools.... I also had a small backpack as my carry-on. The Bus I lugged my stuff to the bus stop and waited for the yellow city bus to arrive. A friendly girl (I think she worked for the bus company, as she was wearing a yellow vest and was friends with the bus driver) helped me load my bike box. But not before the driver made fun of me: Driver: What's in the box? A bomb? Me: A bicycle. Driver: I think it's a bomb. Me: Ha ha ha. Does this bus go to the train station? Driver: No, it goes to the bomb station! The Train At the train station, I pulled my bike box by its incredibly insufficient strap onto the escalator and then almost caused a pile-up because I couldn't get my box off the escalator at the end and people were coming down and had nowhere to go because there was a huge, grey box in the way. Of course the train to Liege was on the track the farthest away. I lugged the grey plastic coffin up stairs, up another deadly escalator.... When the train arrived, I yanked the stupid thing into the car and leaned it against the wall. Images from the train I didn't take any photos the entire trip because I was either too busy, too tired or too lazy, but I did take some mental pictures.... - Green! The fields, fresh buds, trees... everything was so green compared to Spain. - The train followed a river on the right and an escarpment (reminded me of the Niagra escarpment in Ontario) on the left. The grey, jagged rocks of the escarpment pierced up into the blue sky, disproving two of my preconceptions: Belgium is NOT completely flat and it does NOT rain all the time. - Houses -- The houses the train rolled past were like out of a painting: tall, narrow, red brick with steep, high, tiled rooves. The windows were also tall and narrow. Many of the houses were connected to each other and formed long rows. - Horses -- We passed a deep green field with those (I forget the name of the breed) big-boned, shaggy horses with the shaggy hooves. - Picture a guy in his 60's wearing an orange cycling cap (instead of a baseball cap, which his counterpart in Canada would be wearing) mowing a patch of lawn beside a brick house (proving one of my preconceptions: Everyone loves cycling!) More Train stuff I had to change trains twice in train stations that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. More stairs. By that time, my hands were red, raw and blistered from the stupid strap. I have to say, people were nice, always offering to help. Finally I arrived in Spa and was relieved, thinking my journey was almost over. A friendly Belgian helped me navigate the Trico off the train and when he set it on the ground, I asked him if he knew Hotel La Maison. "No," he said, "but I'll ask someone." No luck. "Do you have the address?" He asked. I turned red. I didn't. "Do you have the phone number?" I was starting to feel really embarrassed. No, no phone number. The truth was, I didn't even know if 'La Maison' was the right name. I had quickly asked Trish's boyfriend, Max (who was on the same flight as me), in the airport what the name of the hotel was and he said: "I think it's 'La Maison.' " I had all the info on my laptop, which I had decided, at the last minute, not to take with me. My Belgian friend, a short, middle-aged man with a roundish face and a brown comb over, was a little surprised. This Canadian girl flies to Belgium, takes a train to Spa, but has no idea where her hotel is? He gestured for me to follow him (He spoke very little English and I speak very little French) to his small truck. He loaded my luggage and drove me to the Tourist Info Centre in Spa. The guy there spoke English: "La Maison isn't in Spa," he said. "It's in Stavelot, about 12.5 kilometres away." I still wasn't sure that La Maison was actually the right place, so I asked him to call and see if they had a reservation for Patricia Sinclair. They didn't. This wasn't looking good. The info centre guy got the manager on the phone. Yes, Ms. Sinclair had inquired about a room, but she never reserved it. But he still had a room available if I wanted one. "Yes! I'm coming!" I told him. I was going to hire a taxi to Stavelot, but my Belgian knight in shining armour insisted on driving me all the way there. THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!! La Maison At the hotel, I flopped onto the bed, totally wiped. I had gotten up at 5:30 a.m. and it was now 4:30 p.m. Trish arrived at around 6 p.m. She had had a similar ordeal, but headed straight to the race course instead of to the hotel. At the race course, Max had told her where I was... in fact, it wasn't the hotel she had decided upon. But it worked out anyway. World Cup XC #1 Marie-Helene Premont won! Click here for my race report >> Back 'Home' Yesterday I arrived back in Giverola at around 10 a.m., after getting up at 4:30 a.m. and catching a flight at 6:30 a.m. At 11:30 a.m. I guided a group on the Prologue (about 20 people came out for the ride, so Martina, Jogi and I split up the group). Then I had to write a report for Pedal, work in the shop, go to a staff meeting, eat dinner, do the fashion show.... Finally I got to sleep. I'm still trying to catch up though. At the moment I'm lying in bed and typing. Ah, the beauty of the laptop! Today I spent the entire day washing: - Two loads of laundry - Water bottles from my race - My MUDDY bike Notes: Doping When Trish took a sip from her water bottle in the taxi from Spa to the race course, the taxi driver looked at it and asked: "Doping?" When I put my water bottle on a table in the airport, an airport worker nearby saw it, gestured to it and asked: "Doping?" Apparently doping is the norm in Belgium.... Ghetto Racer I raced with 2003 XTR shifters and SID; LX cranks, BB, rear derailleur, SRAM cassette... all wearing a plain blue jersey and black shorts. Back to the basics! Boy of the Week -- Bruno -- Viva Espana! Girl of the Week -- The Other Sandra