We had an early start, with instructions to have our luggage downstairs in the hotel lobby by 6:30 a.m. We were initially supposed to leave at 7:30 for the race start, but at breakfast were told to be ready at 7:10. I wasn’t quite able to organize myself by that time, but it turns out I needn’t have worried, as the buses didn’t depart until after 7:45 anyway. As Gus said early on, this race will be a lot about “Hurry up and wait.”
On the way, from the vantage point of the bus’s high windows, I took some photos of interesting things I saw. There was an open truck carrying some open plastic containers of some kind of food stuff. I snapped a photo, and the Chinese girls behind me on the bus giggled. I turned around, a little shame-faced, and showed them the photo, shrugging as if to say, “Hey – it’s interesting to me!” I am feeling like the much-maligned Japanese tourist with camera glued to his eye …but so many everyday things here are so different that they become worthy objects of photos to me.
At the race start in downtown Hong Kong at the HSBC building, it was a circus! The first 15 kilometers of the race would be neutral, meaning non-racing, and the reason for this was that these first miles – through the Harbor Tunnel and over a major bridge – would be open to 200 recreational riders in addition to the 96 racers. It was pretty fun to see the eager recreational riders lining up with their timing chips in place. A lot of these riders were on folding bikes with 20” wheels, and some had mountain bikes or very old road bikes. Some, on the other hand, were equipped with the latest and greatest in bicycle technology; the home of which is arguably right here in the South of China.
Unused as I am to the duties of soigneur (a term for the person who, literally “cares for” the riders on a team by attending to their nutritional and other requirements at the race), I was a little frazzled by trying to make sure everyone had everything they needed. By the time all the Mengoni boys were ready to go at the start line, I realized I really had to pee. I told Gus, who was driving the caravan car (loaned to us, incredibly, by our friends at Champion System), that I had to find a bathroom. If the caravan took off before I got back, well then I’d just have to stay at the start. I ran off, and got back just in time to clamber in the car before Gus peeled out behind the other cars.
It was my first experience riding in a caravan car, and it was pretty darn frightening…no offense to Gus’s driving, which was very skilled for sure. Since he’d given up our #9 caravan position to wait for me, he spent the entire 15K neutral section, plus a good part of the first lap, regaining our spot. Speeding past the recreational riders panting along was nerve-wracking, especially when there wasn’t much space to pass. It was cool to see the riders streaming along overpasses and through the tunnel, and it struck me what a big deal it is to hold this race here, in such a big city. I guess this was sort of analogous to NYC’s 5-Borough Bike Tour, or the NYC Triathlon, where the city allows major highways to be closed down for these special events.
The 8-kilometer circuit, which the race covered 7 times, had a few tough hills, the major one of which was over a kilometer in length. I had been hoping that all the sprinter boys on the team would be able to hang at least until the last time up the big hill; but I was saddened to see Pollo drop off early on, along with another rider from Macau, I think. I tried to cheer him on, but once the legs are done, they’re done. The rest of the race was a bit dispiriting for me, but I tried to pay attention to the information we were getting over the race radio and note the numbers of the riders in breakaways. Eugene had been the first one to attack, and threw a few more challenges out during the course of the race. Unfortunately he didn’t make it into the move he created, because it ended up staying away (with 4 riders) for the win. Wilson had been fighting hard to stay with the peloton up the hills, but finally on the 5th lap he was popped too. We hoped he would be able to stay within the time limit riding on his own.
After the race, we piled back into the bus to return to the hotel in Sha Tin; just for showers, lunch, and loading the bikes for the journey to Shenzhen. So that our riders could go up to the rooms and relax a bit, I promised to stay outside with the bikes until they were loaded onto the truck. This was a long wait. The race organization had procured a 40-foot container, and basically the whole race minus the people would be transported in this container. It took a few willing workers quite a while to rearrange the bike boxes and other boxes of equipment enough to fit 96+ bikes in the container. They basically just crammed all the bikes in – most of which had hurriedly been protected with foam tubing over the frames – and relied on the lack of space to keep the bikes from bouncing around.
We’d each been issued a lunch box to eat while on the bus, and the food ended up being quite a source of entertainment as well as sustenance. There was a whole roasted duck leg each, a hot dog, a ham & cheese sandwich, a tangerine packaged in plastic, and other little treats. I don’t know what possessed me to look at the list of ingredients on the orange drink box, but I exploded into laughter when I read, last on the list, “Contains fish products.” I can’t decide whether that was an editing error, or whether the orange drink really had something fishy in it!
One of the European riders (nationality and team affiliation withheld to avoid getting spit upon later) was terribly rude to one of the young Chinese Champion System riders. This young guy had washed his bike clothes after the stage, and had hung the wet spandex on hangers over his bus seat to dry during the trip. This Euro hotshot (who had been in the break in today’s stage) said loudly, pointing at the clothes down the aisle, “That’s disgusting.” He then poked the kid and said, “You, hey, put those in there; yeah, thank you,” tossing a plastic bag at him. We were horrified by his arrogance – especially since he had just returned to the bus after an egregiously obvious public urination. Digusting, indeed! From then on we turned firmly against this jerk, giving him the nickname of “Cacoñema.” If you want to know what it means, you’ll have to ask a Dominican, but suffice to say that it references his skinhead, and it’s kind of rude.
On the bus ride to Shenzhen, we saw lots and lots of macaques in a little forest on the side of the road. (And we had been so excited to see the one in Tam Pak Chung!) The ride was long (over 2 hours with all the traffic). We also had to cross the border into China. This involved everyone exiting the buses at one checkpoint and showing passports and visas. Then we got on the bus again, rolled a few hundred meters, and everyone had to disembark again, this time with all our bags, to pass customs. The forms they gave us on the bus to fill out were kind of excessive: we had to fill in the same information about 3 times on different pieces of paper. The health quarantine questionnaire was kind of funny in the wording; we were asked to check the appropriate box if we had a cough, sore throat, rash, or “snivel.”
We couldn’t see much from the bus, and the sky was very overcast and gloomy again. Everyone was glad to finally arrive in Shenzhen. We tumbled out into the courtyard of the hotel and eventually trailed gratefully up to our rooms.
We were all pretty downcast after a first stage in which 2 Mengoni riders had been dropped, and for the first time our table wasn’t the loudest-laughing one in the buffet hall. But the food was excellent – much more exciting than at the Sha Tin hotel. The hotel staff is also exceptionally attentive and polite here. There’s an attendant on each floor to help with elevator calls, luggage, etc., and they are all smiling and helpful.
After dinner, we decided to take advantage of the inexpensive massage service right next door to the hotel that Gus had scoped out. Apparently it was 198 yuan for a 2-hour massage, or less than $25. Pollo and I decided we’d like an hour each, but when we arrived and were ushered in by a beautifully-dressed young woman, we had some difficulty explaining our wishes. English speakers seem quite scarce in Shenzhen, unlike in Hong Kong, so my pantomiming is getting some practice. They seemed to be telling us that a one-hour massage was not possible; that it was 2 hours or nothing. I wanted to ask them if Pollo and I could get our massages in the same room, which I thought I’d succeeded in making clear. But then they tried to separate us, which Pollo was having none of. Finally, I understood that we were being separated just to undress and shower, and we’d meet up again after that. When we saw each other again a few minutes later, we were dressed in matching pyjama – type suits and foam rubber sandals. We followed our guide to a room where there were 2 massage beds. Then there commenced a long and confusing discussion on what type of massage we wanted. I guess this massage parlor, like some others I’ve heard about, had a kind of subtle subtext in the massage menu; I’m certain there were other types of “massage” options that they were not able to overtly describe. I hoped that our arrival as a couple would preclude any notion that we wanted anything other than a standard muscular massage, because communicating about something that subtle in the most basic English that our masseuse had at her disposal would be a recipe for disaster.
We ended up having a very enjoyable massage by these two young women, who chattered the whole time, occasionally giggling and laughing. The one who spoke a bit of English asked us some questions about our stay in China and was very personable and friendly.
By that time it was late, and we returned to the hotel to learn the bad news that both Pollo and Wilson had been eliminated by the time cut and would not be allowed to race the next day. This was a real blow; especially for Wilson, who had hung on so long and only been dropped from the group on the second-to-last time up the big hill. We tried pleading with the commissaire, but he was completely unmoved. Since there were several other riders in the same position, he would have had to allow them all to race. Apparently, the race organizing committee even wanted to get the racers back in (since there were a few Chinese riders in the sad position of having been time cut); however, the comm’s word is law, and even the organizers couldn’t do anything about it. Maybe next year they’ll reconsider having a tough, hilly stage on the first day. What other stage race has the hardest day first?
Anyway, it was with low spirits that we finally fell, exhausted, into bed, to see if Shenzhen would show us a sunnier aspect in the morning.
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