Colombian bike shops. Knowledge and Colnagos with a motherly touch.

My first bike was purchased at a shop owned by one Mr. Gomez, near the Floresta neighborhood in Bogotá. To say that the bike came from a "shop" is an unbelievable overstatement. Perhaps bike hovel is more accurate, considering that the tiny square space was so dark that it appeared to lack electricity. The entire shop was roughly the size of two handicap bathroom stalls, and its dusty walls were made of raw, unpainted cinder block. Like most such shops in Bogotá (fine, I'll call it a "shop" for the sake of simplicity), Mr Gomez had a few of used bikes for sale, and made most of his money on repairs, welding, painting, and selling Colnago, and Pinarello decals. Most importantly, shops like his have always welcomed trades. This means that you can always offset the cost of your new (but used) bike, by trading in your old one.

My first bike is a great example of how these shops operate. It was a heavy, Colombian-made BMX frame that I shared with my brother. It was used, and my mom had it painted in a purple to black fade. The finishing touch came in the form of Mongoose stickers that went on the down tube and seat tube.

Picture of a typical bike shop in Bogota, which I found online. This is similar to what Mr Gomez's shop near our house looked like, though this one is bigger and decidedly nicer on the outside.

The bike district
Today, many people throughout Bogotá continue to favor shops like the one Mr. Gomez ran all those years ago. But the most common type of bike shop is a good bit bigger, and usually in an area near the city center. More importantly, these shops are always grouped along with as many twenty other shops. This is common for most businesses in Colombia, which usually group themselves into districts of sorts.

Do you want cake making equipment? Go to 45th street and you'll have dozens of shops to choose from. Fabric? 12 and 9th. Coffee makers? Caracas Avenue and 19th will give you about a hundred different storefronts to choose from...so on and so forth (if you want to see an impressive directory of such groupings, go to this site, which is in English, and lists many such districts)

Like other shops in Medellin, this one only carries its own brand of frames. Some of those frames, however, have decals for some of the most high-end companies in the world. Despite what you might think, customers know that they are not that brand, and the shop is not trying to fool them. They are just seen as part of the aesthetics of the bike, and can be changed out later on anyway. The bottom left of this picture shows the many decals that you can have applied to your bike.

These larger bike shops are usually busy, with some opening as early as 7am. Customers are loyal, particularly because in some cases, their fathers (and maybe even their grandfathers) frequented one particular shop. Because of Colombian tastes (and the realities of the Colombian economy), these shops don't often carry what Americans and Europeans would consider to be high end products. The market for such goods is very limited, and thus relegated to small specialty shops in some the richest areas of the city.






The average Colombian bike shop, however, will carry utilitarian parts and focus on repairs of any kind. Do you want your current road bike made into a tandem? Drop it off, they can do it. Just pick the new paint color, and it will be done in a week. Do you want your current mountain bike converted for food delivery, including a rack and integrated stand? It can be done easily.

Aside from repairs, these shops usually sell Colombian-made steel frames (many with Colnago stickers for road bikes, and the shop's name for other types of bikes), and fairly low-end components. This is because many of their customers use their bike as a primary mode of transportation, or for work. This requires simple parts that they can afford. Even if their bike is used for leisure, customers don't normally have incredible amounts of money to use up on what is a hobby at best.

The legendary Ramon Hoyos stands in front of the shop that bears his name in Medellin. The shop is now run by his two sons. The shop is located in Carabobo, a street that hosts many bike and paint shops.

The notion of Colombians using bikes for utilitarian purposes brings me to a joke that an employee in one Medellin shop told me two years ago. It's not a great joke, and will seem even less funny after I translate it, but here it goes:

What's the difference between a European climbing 10,000 feet on his bike, and a Colombian climbing 10,000 feet on his bike? The European is training, the Colombian is going home.

As I said, not particularly funny, but it gives you an idea as to why so many Colombian shops carry the parts and bikes they do. The market for high end goods is limited, and those who seek out nicer road bikes in particular are picky. It's for this reason that shops will work with customers to build their bikes, rather than carry inventory that will just sit there for many years.






Women
Aside from the obvious differences that make Colombian bike shops unique, there is one aspect that stands out. You may not notice it at first, but once you realize it, you'll see how unusual it seems. In most shops, all the employees you will interact with are women. They wear uniforms, are extremely helpful, and most of all, are insanely knowledgeable. Unlike in other countries, working at a bike shop is a life-long career for these employees, not simply a job. Women who work at bike shops won't be going off to college soon, and they won't be getting another job in the bike industry. They are lifelong, devoted bike shop employees. Some are actually second-generation shop employees, so the business is in their blood. There's a certain degree of authority in their voice, which comes as a result of their experience and knowledge. You quickly learn not to question them, because they simply know more than you ever will. Period.





These women take their job very, very seriously. They understand compatibility between components better than any magazine's tech writer. These women also appear to have a photographic memory when it comes to every product catalog that has come out in the last twenty years. As such, they know vintage parts, frames and paint schemes. They know what was available from what vendor and when. This is particularly true since most of these shops thrive on selling parts, and keeping people's old bikes running, more so than selling new bikes. But don't worry, they know current products lines just as well.

The end result is that you deal with extremely knowledgeable employees whose entire life is and will always be devoted to bikes, bike parts, and helping customers. More often than not, they don't ride bikes themselves. This is a business, and their livelihood, and they treat it as such. It's an astonishingly different way of interacting with someone in a shop once you've experienced it.

This particular bike shop in Bogota employs three generations of the same family at once.

But perhaps the most amazing difference in many such shops, is the warmth with which you are received and treated by the employees. In my favorite shop in Bogota, a hug and a kiss on the cheek is not uncommon as I walk in. Also not uncommon is me getting an instantaneous answer regarding which frames in one company's line in the mid 1980s were available in English or Italian threading. No guesswork, no need to look it up on the internet. The answer is always there to be given.

Getting ready for the Christmas season in Medellin. These frames were all purchased from a Colombian supplier, then painted in the shop, and assembled there. All the wheels were built in the shop as well.

So if you're in the mood for shopping in a one-man operation, Mr. Gomez and shops like his continue to thrive throughout Colombia. If you want an American-style shop (but with half the inventory and twice the price), those shops exist as well. But if you want great service by a knowledgeable staff (all with a warm motherly touch), I suggest you ask where the bike shop district is.

Once there, look for a shop that's named after a winner of the Vuelta a Colombia. Go in, ask questions, and don't be surprised if you get a hug and a kiss by your second or third visit.

Alvaro "The Condor of Cundinamarca" Pachon, standing outside his shop in Bogota's bike district. His shop (which he inherited from his father) is next door to another shop owned by his great rival at the Vuelta a Colombia, Miguel Samaca. I've written about them and their shops before, which you can read here.

Landslides, polka dots, and the ol' switcharoo

.


1. Vuelta a Colombia

Then

Circa 1973, unknown photographer, Deportes Al Dia magazine

Now

Santiago Botero, Victor Hugo Peña, and José Rujano protested the race organizer's decision to continue Stage 9 "after an avalanche nearly hit the peloton." You have to love a race like the Vuelta a Colombia, where a top tube cheat sheet must point out climbs, feed zones and possible landslides. (Gregg Bleakney Photo)

Photographer Gregg Bleakney followed the 2009 Vuelta a Colombia, and captured some wonderful images of the event, which you can see here. I remember seeing a video account of his trip on Velo News, which was called Behind The Scenes In Colombia. Sadly, like so many things on the internet, the video is long gone. Bleakney also photographed a great story which I've posted before, called Digging Deep, about the Colombian mountain bike champion who is also a coal miner.


You can see more of Bleakney's cycling-related work here, including pictures from the Tour of Beijing, Tour of India and many other races.

2. Oh my
Feel free to share jokes about "single versus dual-sided entry" in the comments section.

eBay listings like this one make me think back to great moments in eBay history, like when sellers from Bizarro World managed to list items, thus allowing any of us to buy a bike that belonged to "Gyro Winner Andy Hampstons". I mean, as impressive and inspiring as Andy Hampsten's victory at the Giro was, his alter ego Hampston's victory at that gyro-eating contest must have been absolutely monumental!

3. Frederik Veuchelen
Just as Pavlov's dog reacted to the sound of a bell, we Colombians have an uncontrollable reaction to seeing polka dotted jerseys. As such, I couldn't help but notice that Vacansoleil's Frederik Veuchelen was the first Belgian since Eddy Merckx to win the mountains classification at Paris-Nice last week. Last year, I spent the afternoon with Vacansoleil's mechanics the day before the Tour of Flanders. During that time, the mechanics humored me, and answered endless questions. As they did so, I noticed two small children who were allowed to roam inside the team truck, as they played with the team bikes and wheels. They were Veuchelen's son and daughter, who were there with their mother to cheer on their dad.

Veuchelen's wife (An Vollon), told me that it was a treat for her to see Veuchelen race in person, and not on television as she usually does. As she looked after her children, she told me me, "Being married to a cyclist is hard, particularly for us. He's a professional cyclist, and I'm a dentist, so we are both very busy. It's a tough combination." They met when they were kids in school, so I joked that surely she knew what she was getting into by marrying him. Long training rides, even longer stretches of time when he's away from home, and an obsessively strict lifestyle at times.

She laughed, "No, not at all. He played football back then, he didn't start riding a bike until he was 22!" Ah, the ol' switcharoo.

Here are some of the pictures I took that afternoon.














5. Ringtones
In Belgium, you know a race is approaching when you hear the TV helicopter, and when the Rodania car goes by. Last week, the Inner Ring blog posted an mp3 file of the Rodania jingle, which you can make into your ringtone. This reminded me of the fact that one of the most popular posts on this blog is one that featured the Tour de France car horn sound. As you may know, that unusual horn can be heard in all ASO races. I was able to record it as it was played for me by an ASO employee, whose job it is to mark the race route with yellow arrows at Paris-Roubaix.


If we as fans hear this horn sound in our sleep during the summer months, I can only imagine that professionals at the highest level have a decidedly Pavlovian response to it, and probably hear it in their sleep for the rest of their lives. Andy Hampsten might....so I wonder if his bizarro twin Andy Hampston does as well.

In any case, based on the popularity of that post, I thought it was worth mentioning that my original link to the sound file (in multiple formats) is still available here.

Since the time I posted the file, Sendspace has placed multiple ads on their pages, making it hard to find the correct link. Once you're on the Sendspace page, you have to click on the link that looks like the image below to download the files.


Tip: if you own an iPhone, you can make this horn sound into your alarm, which you can then set to go off at a random moment during a long ride. In doing so, you will be both the coolest, and the lamest person all at once.



6. Friday Bonus (updated)
When you're watching riders descend during Milan-San Remo on Saturday, remember this video, and remember the squealing.

Culinary secrets of Colombian cycling. Part 4: Coffee

This is the fourth installment in an ongoing series about culinary staples in Colombian cycling. The first three parts can be found here, here, and here.

Translation: "Coffee and cycling, the great pride of Colombia. Cafe De Colombia...the drink that is enjoyed with pride and accompanies our lives now accompanies our cyclists in their great goals through European roads. Coffee and cycling, both fruits of our land, ones that show the world the great pride that exists in Colombia. Drink coffee...feel the pride of Colombia."

A few weeks ago, I received an email from a reader who, perhaps rightfully, asked why I hadn't written about coffee in my series of "culinary secrets" posts. This, he thought, was a highly unusual omission on my part. I certainly see his point. The rise of Colombian cycling on the world stage was largely defined by the Cafe De Colombia team, which was itself sponsored by the National Federation of Coffee Growers. For several years at the Tour De France, the King Of The Mountains classification was sponsored by the Federation. At the Vuelta A España, the polka dot jersey was actually redesigned to make the polka dots coffee beans after the Federation of Coffee Growers sponsored that jersey too.

Oscar de Jesus Vargas wearing the mountains classification jersey at the Vuelta

Given that American (and many European) cyclists seem to find such an obvious connection between cycling and coffee, how on earth could it be that I've ignored the beverage that gave rise to Colombians in the European peloton? How could I possibly ignore the beverage that inspired component manufacturer Chris King to make an espresso tamper, USA Cycling to come up with their own brand of coffee, and several cyclists to have their own blends (as you can see here and here). Why would I willingly ignore the fact that even fellow cycling bloggers have their own signature coffees? How could I possibly disregard the union between cycling and coffee, which obviously reached its zenith in Colombia?

The answer is easy. We Colombians don't like coffee. Some of us actually rather dislike it. This is something I've mentioned on the blog before, and it's true.

While it's always risky to make such a sweeping overgeneralization (like when I said that all Spanish cyclists have very pointy sideburns), I can honestly tell you that Colombians, by and large, simply don't care for coffee at all. I certainly don't, and I'm not alone. Here's the data to prove it.

Coffee consumption per capita, top thirty countries

So where does Colombia rank on this list you ask? 55. As you can see, we just don't consume the stuff at all, though I'm open to the fact that some regions enjoy it more than others. But those who do drink coffee, drink very little of it...much in the same way that if Spanish cyclists are going to have sideburns, they're going to have a thin sliver of them.



Different
In Colombia, coffee is usually enjoyed while sitting down in a cafeteria, never on the move, never while driving, and seldom while working, as it's simply not a big or necessary part of our lives. For this reason, coffee is something that Colombians just don't put any thought into. As such, people who obsess over coffee, talk about blends, and own pricey machines to make the stuff are completely and absolutely beyond me. The same can be said for those who believe that there's a link of sorts between coffee and cycling (beyond the sponsorship of a team by Cafe De Colombia).

A typical serving size of black coffee in Bogota, usually about the size of an espresso, and sweetened with two cubes of white sugar. When asking for a cup of coffee, Colombians will often use the diminutive form "cafesito" or "tintico", to indicate just how little of it they actually want.

On the go
A couple of years ago, I took my wife's American family to see Bogota. As Americans, they are coffee drinkers, and were shocked by their inability to get coffee in many places. When they did get coffee, they had to ask for as many as two or three cups of it (due to the tiny servings), and were dismayed by the poor quality (more on that later). Perhaps the most shocking thing for them, was the fact that no one offered to-go cups of any kind. That's because when Colombians drink black coffee, they will often consider it a social event. It's something you sit down to do as you talk with friends, family or business associates. The thought of walking around while drinking coffee seems odd (if not crass) to most of us, and is akin to carrying a thermos of red wine while sipping from it. You can certainly do it, but it's a bit weird and could bring your sanity into question. Come to think of it, the only person I ever remember drinking coffee while walking around when I was a kid was our next door neighbor, and that's not saying much. He was a degenerate gambler who had removed the driver's seat from his Fiat, and replaced it with a wooden chair from his dinning room (after cutting down the legs, in order for it to fit inside the car). So if you want to be seen as a degenerate gambler who would use a dinning chair inside his car while in Colombia, go ahead and drink coffee on the go.

But let's get back to my wife's family visiting Colombia. Some members of her family didn't believe me when I said there was no to-go cups for coffee. They had me ask several store clerks for paper or styrofoam cups on their behalf. Each time I asked, my question was greeted with priceless faces of disbelief by servers, ones that were recognized despite the language barrier by everyone involved. Eventually, they realized I was telling them the truth. In Colombia, you sit, you drink your coffee while having a chat, and then you go.

Translation: "Colombian coffee, the wine of thinkers, the favorite beverage among civilized people." The cup in shown in this picture is a larger serving by Colombian standards.

Quality
So Colombians don't drink much coffee at all, many actively dislike it, and if they do drink it, they do so in small quantities. But is the coffee in Colombia good? Is it worth going to one of the biggest and most well-known coffee growing countries in the world for a cup of coffee? The answer is a resounding no.

Anyone who is fond of coffee and has visited Colombia will tell you that the quality of coffee you'll find there can range from poor to horrible. First of all, the beverage is of little importance to us, and the highest grade beans are usually exported anyway (you can read about this here, in a story called "Why does most coffee in Colombia taste like dishwater?"). What's more, most Colombians drink (get ready for it) instant coffee. In fact, the best selling brand of coffee in Colombia is instant, and it's called Colcafé, a blend of the words "Colombia" and "café". Even its name is wonderfully generic (you can buy Colombia's favorite coffee online here.)

If any of the people in this picture drink coffee at all, they drink instant. Believe me.

If you're a coffee aficionado, you have no doubt gasped while reading this, hearing about the tiny portions of bad (often instant) coffee that Colombians enjoy. You're probably also asking what on earth Colombians drink instead of coffee. Well, the most popular beverages are hot chocolate, aguapanela, and in some cases agua aromatica (hot water with a couple of spearmint or lemmongrass leaves and sugar). By far the most common breakfast beverages are hot chocolate, or fresh fruit juice, not coffee.




A wonderfully informative story about coffee consumption in Colombia, and how little Colombians care about coffee quality, from Public Radio International






When in Colombia...
So if you find yourself in Colombia, is there no hope for finding what you would probably consider to be a good cup of coffee in a portion that approximates what you are used to? Well, a few establishments have slowly started to cater to such needs. Chief among these is the Juan Valdez chain, which actually has several locations outside Colombia (including some in the United States). My wife, who drinks coffee, is very fond of their drinks and dessert-like blends when we are in Bogota. So are many of Colombia's younger and more cosmopolitan set, who will at times even get theirs to go (much to the horror of the older generation). Juan Valdez shop interiors are impeccably designed with a decidedly modern aesthetic. As wonderful as their stores are, they are still somewhat rare in Colombia. As such, it's safe to say that Colombians will keep drinking coffee as they always have, particularly when compared to those of other nationalities: seldom, in small portions, and fully ignoring the quality of it.

Sign in a typical cafeteria, or tienda, announcing that they sell perico coffee. See below for Colombian terminology relating to coffee.

Cafe con leche
At this point, you may be asking yourself why on earth I wrote this post. The first three parts of this series have been devoted to culinary staples of Colombian life, ones that are inextricably linked to cycling. So why write about coffee? Well, for some bizarre reason, the link between coffee and cycling is strong for many in the United States and Europe. Additionally, Colombia and coffee are sometimes synonymous, particularly in the world of cycling, where many will always remember the Cafe De Colombia team fondly. Regardless of what I may think, Colombia, coffee and cycling seem to go hand in hand. Lastly, I thought it was worth this writing to dispel certain myths about Colombia, and also to teach the world how to drink coffee like a Colombian.

This, I believe, is the most important part of this post. Colombia does consume some coffee after all, so if you're going to drink it, you should at least try to do so in the typically Colombian manner. While black coffee is certainly consumed in Colombia, the kind of coffee you would drink before a ride is often completely different, so let me tell you about it. It's the way that I, and millions of other Colombians drink coffee. It's called cafe con leche, and while some Colombians have it on a daily basis, most will drink it once every few weeks at best. Despite what the name may lead you to believe, cafe con leche is not a café au lait, which is far too strong and too coffee-tasing for our delicate Colombian palates. A cafe con leche is made this way:

Boil one cup of whole milk (or soy milk if you are so inclined)

Add one small spoonful of instant coffee (decaf if you are so inclined). And I mean small.

Add two healthy spoonfuls of sugar. Stir, and enjoy.

Cafe con leche is made exclusively for breakfast. It's small, it's not to-go, and you drink it sitting down. You enjoy it with an arepa, or with french bread rolls with butter and jelly, which are sometimes dipped in the cafe con leche (the second option being more common in colder climates like Bogota).

There you have it. Perfectly Colombian coffee, as preferred by champions who had the Cafe de Colombia logo on their jersey back in the 80s...and Colombians who still race today.

Rigoberto Uran knows the deal. Cafe con leche and an arepa for breakfast. He seems to prefer a large portion of rather dark cafe con leche, but considering his status as a professional, he's allowed to make such choices.

Important terminology
Tinto:
Simple black coffee. If not made with instant coffee, it will almost always be served out of a greca, like this one. Visitors who know coffee will often point out that coffee served from grecas in Colombia is often reheated several times, and is thus bitter.

Perico:
Black coffee with a healthy splash of whole milk. Be mindful of the fact that "perico" is also the word for scrambled eggs with onions and tomato, particularly outside of Bogota. Jose Beyeart (the French cyclist and first Olympic gold medalist in road cycling) found this out the hard way, when he went to the Colombian coast to greet his French wife who traveled by boat from Europe. Upon her arrival, he took her to a small café, and ordered a "perico" for her, proudly showing off how well versed in Spanish he had become during his time living in Bogota. Imagine Jose's shame when the waiter brought scrambled eggs instead of coffee with milk. So he ordered again, "perico" he said...only to get a second order of scrambled eggs.

Guarulo:
Black coffee that is very watered down, then sweetened with aguapanela and sometimes cinnamon. Cinnamon sticks are removed before drinking.

Braid-spotting, and Danzig-spotting. A guide to watching early season races.

Spring. To some, this time of year symbolizes rebirth, renewal and is a sure sign that warm weather is around the corner. To me, it simply means that I'll have to start cutting the grass again soon. Some also believe that it's an ideal time to spot new and unusual haircuts among professional cyclists. I'm one such person, so imagine my delight when I saw Cofidis' Luis Angel Mate. In an unexpected move, the Spanish rider chose to audition for a spot as an extra in the next Pirates Of The Caribbean movie during Paris-Nice, by showing his scraggly and dry heave-inducing braids on television. I suppose his hair could also be a tribute to the singer from the band Live, or to the lady who does palm readings at the crystal shop near my work. Either way, Mate's hair remains one of the most entertaining in the peloton, along with Rabobank's Michael Matthews.

Now that you've seen Mate's hair, I think you'll agree that the only thing that is more scraggly and dry heave-inducing in the pro peloton is Boasson Hagen's right foot (as seen in this article).

Feet with toes that are pointing in seven different directions and look like those signs that tell you how far away other cities are aside, Mate's haircut remains of great interest to me. You see, aside from his unusual choice in hairstyle (which rivals the great Slipstream hair gel disaster of 2009), it's worth mentioning that Mate has broken with tradition in two more significant ways. First, his website does not feature extensive use of Flash animation, and does not feature techno music, a most unusual and bold choice for any European rider (I'm looking in your general direction Cipollini). But more impressively, Mate has chosen to wear his sideburns in a decisively non-pointy fashion, a clear break with tradition among Spanish cyclists.






Surely at this point, some of you might be asking yourselves, "Does this guy watch races like Paris-Nice exclusively to look at riders' hairstyles and to critique their choice in sideburn grooming?" The answer to that question, of course, is: no. I'm a highly competent thinker and writer, one whose talent has been called upon by an impressive list of companies and media outlets, including my employers' HR department newsletter (they asked me to submit my macaroni and cheese casserole recipe, after it was a huge hit during the holiday party).

But where was I? Oh right, I was telling you that I don't merely watch races like Paris-Nice in order to get a better look at riders sideburns and hairstyles. No sir, nothing could be further from the truth. Instead, I watch races like Tirreno-Adriatico, in order to stay on top of possible celebrity sightings. One such sighting was that of singer and kitty litter aficionado, Glenn Danzig.





Once I thought I saw that Glenn Danzig was in Italy enjoying himself at the race, I instantly went to an authority on the matter. In the TV show CSI, that means taking the footage or image in question to a computer operator who will use the "enhance" feature in some made up software to find out the truth. Sadly, the world of bike-related blogging has no "enhance" feature. We do, however, have an expert on the matter: Mr Bike Snob. You see, aside from working hard on writing books, Mr Bike Snob has multiple degrees in the art of Glenn Danzig spotting. So I sent the image above to him. I had to know, was that actually rocker and chocolate cake connoisseur Glenn Danzig who I saw on the side of the road during Tirreno-Adriatico?

Sadly, the verdict was negative. In his words:

"She doesn't have the trademark Danzig mumps jowls"

So not only was it not Danzig, it wasn't even a man. I was crestfallen. Crushed. So I decided to go back to what I do best: spotting riders with slightly dreadlocked braids and non-pointy sideburns. You have to stick to what you're good at, and back away from those things that you're not good at. We must all realize what goals are realistic, and which ones are simply out of our reach. That's the lesson I learned today, and it's a lesson that Damiano Cunego will learn never.

Enjoying the mere existence of such grand possibilities. Colombian cycling in 2012.

Jarlinson Pantano in Saturday's Strada Bianche (the "J" in his first name is soft, and pronounced like the "h" in "holiday")

In 2010, the Tour de France started without a single Colombian rider for the first time in 27 years. In a way, that event best exemplifies the relationship I've had with professional cycling during the last few years. Like others, I've watched and become invested in races. I've enjoyed the spectacle and (dare I say) the beauty of the sport. But the euphoric joy and devastating lows I experienced as a kid watching the Cafe De Colombia team were mere memories. For the last few years, there simply haven't been enough Colombian riders at the highest level to warrant consistently high expectations. Instead I delighted in the occasional flash of brilliance from a Colombian rider, and smiled when I saw the faces of riders like Leonardo Duque, Cayetano Sarmiento and Carlos Betancur pop up during races.

Duque and Uran at the Tour in 2011

But as I look around today, it's tempting to say that Colombian cycling is waking from a long slumber. Perhaps "slumber" is too strong a word, and downplays the accomplishments of many riders who raced and succeeded after what many consider to be the golden years of Colombian cycling. Riders like Alvaro Mejia (white jersey at the Tour in '91, and fourth in '93), Chepe Gonzalez (stage winner at the Tour and Giro, and winner of the mountains classification at the Giro in '97 an '99), Oliverio Rincon (second in the Duphine, stage winner in the Giro, Vuelta and Tour) and Nelson Rodriguez (stage winner at the Tour, sixth in the Giro) certainly deserve some respect for their accomplishments.

But today, there are four Colombian riders in ProTeam squads (two in Sky, one in Movistar, one in Liquigas and one in Lampre), and a Professional Continental team that is entirely Colombian. With this in mind, the 2010 Tour de France seems like a distant memory. At least it did this weekend. Jarlinson Pantano (Colombia-Coldeportes) managed to stay with an impressive group for much of the Strada Bianche, a race that didn't suit his abilities. Nairo Quintana (Movistar) won the Vuelta a Murcia, and Jose Serpa (Androni Giocattoli ) won the Tour de Langkawi.

Later this week, Colombia-Coldeportes starts Tirreno Adriatico, and confirmed invites to Milan-San Remo, Criterium International, Giro del Trentino, Fleche Wallone, Tour of California, and the Dauphine await.

Serpa' nickname is The Lion of Bucaramanga (his birthplace). The Colombian press used the image over the weekend, with numerous headlines making reference to his nickname and the tigers in the background. No one mentioned how oddly Pantani-esque Serpa is looking these days though.

Am I foolishly getting carried away with excitement? Perhaps. But this is where I find myself, as Colombian cyclists have slowly started to come back into the foreground so early in the season. For some time, I've tried hard to keep my potentially overbearing patriotism in check (hard to believe when you consider the focus of this blog, I know). But now, I'm suddenly being thrown back into my childhood. The days of listening to the Tour de France on the radio in the summer of 1984 seem less distant at times like these. So too does the potential outpouring of emotions that can come when any Colombian starts following a sport too closely. It's a feature (or flaw, depending on who you ask) that appears to be hardwired in all of us who were born and raised there.




Pantano talks about his ride at Strada Bianche:

You can watch an interview that Pantano did during the huge party that greeted him in the city of Cali upon his return from winning the polka dot jersey at the Tour d l'Avenir in 2010 here.



Still, I'd like to think that I'm more control of emotions than I was in 1984. I have to sit back and enjoy the spectacle, remembering to keep my emotions in check.

Not long ago, I spoke with Jose Duarte, for the article I wrote for Peloton magazine. Duarte is an expert framemaker with over fifteen thousand frames under his belt. He's a fixutre in Colombian cycling, and a keen observer of the sport (he was also national road champion in the late 50s). In speaking with him about the golden years of Colombian cycling, Duarte had an unusual, but telling insight. As he sees it, Colombia's love affair with the sport came to a halt when most expected it to explode once again. He believes that when Lucho Herrera won the Vuelta a España in 1987, many fans in Colombia became restless. Nothing could satiate their desires.

“We saw ourselves as the underdogs in the 1980s. Being invited to the Tour made us ecstatic. Then, winning a stage at the Tour made the entire country go absolutely insane. When Lucho won the Vuelta, it was unbelievable. It meant more to us than it ever could to people of any other country.

But once we saw that it was possible for one of ours to win a grand tour, we lost the underdog status. We lost that hunger. We as fans suddenly believed that only an overall win at the Tour de France would do. We lost the most important part of being Colombian, our sense of wonder, and our ability to dream about the what-ifs. We lost the ability to enjoy the mere existence of such grand possibilities.”

Nairo Quintana wins the Vuelta a Murcia

Is Duarte completely right? I'm not sure, but I do see a great deal of truth in what he says. Part of being Colombian is our sense of wonder, and our ability to dream about the what-ifs. I would also add that those qualities can sometimes be expressed in overly sentimental ways, and that too is part of who we are. Win or lose (and it's certainly too early in the season to know where things are going), watching Colombian riders in these European races has an outsized effect on me. One I can't fully explain, and one that permeates even the most logical Colombians (of which I am not one).

But as I see it, if I keep my sense of wonder alive, and (in Duarte's words) I remain aware of how amazing it is that these grand possibilities even exist, I'll be fine. And if a handful of non-Colombians begin to understand and share in this joy, so much the better.





____________________________________________________
Social media

For those of you who want to follow Colombian cycling more closely, here are a few links that are worth looking into:

Colombia-Coldeportes on Twitter (in English)
Rigoberto Uran (Sky) on Twitter
Jarlinson Pantano (Colombia-Coldeportes) on Twitter
Colombia-Coldeportes on Facebook
Carlos Julian Quintero (Colombia-Coldeportes) on Twitter
Juan Pablo Suarez (Colombia-Coldeportes) on Twitter
Mundo Ciclistico, Colombia's leading cycling publication, on Twitter
Victor Hugo Peña on Facebook

Tweet by Rigoberto Uran, about his pre-training ride breakfast in Pamplona. What's for breakfast? An arepa (which I've written about before), and cafe con leche...a wonderful culinary part of Colombian cycling that I'll be writing about very soon.

Tweet from Juan Pablo Suarez (Colombia-Coldeportes) directed at Jairo Clopatofsky, Minister of Sport, who started the project, and gathered funding for the team. The tweet says, " J_Clopatofsky, sir we are living out the dream that you alone were the first to believe in."

Facebook post by Victor Hugo Peña, in response to news story about Mauricio Soler's slow recovery. It says: "Mauricio, you are setting an amazing example. You are a true lancer from Boyaca, like the ones that gave us Colombians our freedom. By sheer coincidence I find myself living in the apartment in which you lived in while in Italy. Some of your trophies are here, which I'm sure you left knowing that you'll be back here at some point. They are safe with us, and I can also bring them back to Colombia with me...but only if you take me to eat one of those highly-recommended trouts that Claudio [Corti] is always telling me about. A warm greeting brother!"

Lastly, you may also enjoy:
My interview with Rigobero Uran, and my interview with Sergio Henao.

Sanchez, Morrissey and Belgium's Supreme Court. Reheating yesterday's leftovers.

As the title above clearly states, today's post is little more than my attempt to use up leftovers from the last few weeks, bits of information that have not made into other posts for one reason or another. Sadly, that means that the literary artistry you've no doubt come to expect when reading this blog will not be on display today. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it.





1.
The headlines are everywhere. The Spanish economy is crumbling, Euskaltel-Euskadi may not exist for another season, and the UCI will have to bail out several Spanish races. As economists look under the proverbial couch cushions for reasons why these things are happening, I'd like to suggest that the cause has been right in front of our eyes for some time: Sammy Sanchez and his insatiable love for gold componentry* and kit.

If you've watched even an instant of professional cycling over the last four years, you've probably come to realize that Samuel Sanchez was awarded the last gold medal in road cycling. Even if you didn't watch the road race at the Olympic Games, you know this because Sanchez insists that his team's sponsors dip numerous amounts of bike-related bric-a-brac in gold to let everyone know about his victory. Short of dipping his entire body in gold, Sanchez has gone to great lengths to remind us of what he achieved four years ago, while choosing to disregard the extreme damage that he's caused the Spanish economy.

Now, as the London games draw near, Sanchez has decided to go out in style, as he showed in the recent edition of the Vuelta a Andalucia. There, Sanchez showed off his latest jersey. This abomination features reflective gold foil strip embedded into the fabric, thus putting him one step away from looking like an ice skater at the winter Olympics.


*Not a real word

When you finally notice the gold foil, you'll wince. That's exactly what Donald Trump did when he saw this jersey, and that's saying a lot because he owns this apartment.

With this latest move, Sanchez has moved up one spot in the Crazy Gold Scale™, which as we all know goes like this:

Level 1. Morrissey in a gold lamé shirt
Level 2. The wrestler Goldust
Level 3. Rapper Master P making a solid gold replica of himself






2.
As I type this, two print publications have once again lowered their standards and chosen to print something I've written. Both Road Magazine and Peloton have articles by me in their current issues. Thanks to both magazines for publishing my masterful work.




3.
This Saturday, the Strade Bianche will feature the all-Colombian Colombia/Coldeportes team. Additionally, Gazzetta dello Sport will provide unrestricted live video coverage. And you thought you had nothing to do this Saturday morning.


4.
A recent obsession of mine: Long videos on YouTube. Here are a few of my recent finds, which will provide you with some weekend entertainment.


Last year, while visiting the Tour of Flanders museum in Oudenaarde, a kind gentleman helped me with my suitcase, and stored it behind the counter as he ate his lunch. Typical of me, it wasn't until I finally looked up and readied myself to pay for admission that I noticed who the man was.

Freddy Maertens.

Below is a 53 minute documentary about Maertens. If you're like me, and you've grown accustomed to watching races in languages that you don't understand (my personal favorite being Basque, which sounds like my dog trying to clear her throat), you'll enjoy this video even if you don't understand much of it.





Documentary about the KAS team, including old footage of the Orbea and BH factories. This one is in Spanish.




An hour long documentary about equestrian trainer-turned cycling manager Paul Baeremaeker? Why not.




In the 1998 World Championships, Steve Bauer crashed Claude Criquielion in the final sprint. Criquielion proceeded to sue Buaer for assault, a case that made it all the way to Belgium's supreme court. This is a documentary about that event.




And lastly: a two and a half hour video on Youtube? Oh yes indeed. And it's a documentary about the Tour of Flanders.

George oversees production, the Virgin Mary looks after the thread. A visit to the Hincapie Sportswear factory in Medellín.

George Hincapie's aunt Mari asks me to sit down. The taxi I've called for won't be picking me up for another twenty minutes, and she wants to make sure I'm comfortable while I wait. Her way of speaking, her mannerisms, and overall demeanor are so Colombian that they're almost comical. As a result, I feel right at home. She reminds me of both my mother and every one of my aunts (but unlike my aunts, she asks no awkward questions about my current life, and doesn't remind me that I used to only be "this tall" at one point in my life).


I talk to Mari for a good while. We joke comfortably, since it's hard not to feel at home around someone like her. I ask if I can take a picture of her. She's happy to oblige.





As I sit in her office, I can't help but notice the large painting of George Hincapie that hangs above her. He's sporting US Postal kit, and appears to be overseeing matters at the factory. But he's not just in his aunt Mari's office. He's everywhere. He oversees the main production room. He looks on as patterns are cut, and as fabric is sublimated as well. Here in Medellin, George sees all.

But this being Colombia, I notice that an even higher power is in charge of looking after the threads that go into the clothing made in the factory. Even George can't be tasked with a duty like this. Reinforcements are called. The Virgin Mary and Child guard the thread, as Jesus and the Apostles look after the airy meeting room where I meet with George's brother Rich.




I ask how often George comes down to Medellín.

“As kids we would come to Medellín every year, but that stopped when Colombia went through its drug cartel issues. Luckily, those problems have since ended. I now come about four times a year. George’s travels and racing schedule have kept him from coming here in years, but that will change soon.”

Rich Hincapie

George’s parents have an apartment in Medellín (where they were both born), and they are here often. Rich prefers to stay with uncle Jorge and aunt Mari when he comes down to oversee production. Day to day operations are under the care of several family members.

“In the States, there’s George and me, and our cousin Brian who works in our distribution facility,” Rich says “Here in Colombia we have my aunt Mari, my uncle Jorge, as well as my cousins David and Mely. They basically run the show down here.”

George and Rich's uncle Jorge Hincapie is a great example of the wealth of knowledge in textiles and manufacturing that exists in Medellín. He worked for much of his life at a mill owned by Coltejer, the textile manufacturer that employs a large percentage of Medellín's population. But Jorge's past in Coltejer is not the only connection that the company has to cycling. During the 1950s, Coltejer was where Colombia's first great cycling champion, Ramon Hoyos, worked. Though he was an amateur (Colombia didn't have professionals until 1984), Coltejer sponsored his teams as he won several Vueltas a Colombia.

Further proof of the connection between textiles and cycling in Colombia is the fact that Singer (the sewing machine company) sponsored a team for many years. So too did a disproportionately large number of dress shirt manufacturers.

Ramon Hoyos wearing his Coltejer kit

But while it's Jorge Hincapie who runs the factory, aided by his past experience in textiles, it’s George's cousins David and Mely who proudly show me around the factory. They explain every nuance of the production methods used, as well as the recent expansion that has added a significant amount of square footage to the factory.

As we arrive to the back of the factory, they show me the outdoor patio where workers play soccer during their lunch break. This is Colombia after all. The Virgin Mary looks after the thread, and workers need to play soccer during their lunch break.

Mely, Mari, Jorge, Rich, David

Americans will continue to see George Hincapie as one of them. New Yorkers will see him as a New Yorker, much in the same way that those in Greenville, South Carolina will claim him as their own.

But when you sit and talk with his aunt Mari during a warm Medellín afternoon, you realize that the three-time US National champion is also plenty Colombian.

Taken in part from an article that was originally published in Road Magazine

__________________________________________________________
Other matters:


I know you've probably seen a few downhill videos like this before, maybe even better ones. But this one takes place in Manizales, a city close to Medellin, that has a rich cycling history. As such, I couldn't help myself, and had to share it.




Thanks to my brother for sharing the link with me. And speaking of my brother, the new episode of his podcast is out, featuring yours truly.