June Gloom

It's June today, and the Giro is finished. Ivan Basso fought like a tiger through the snow in the Alps, and flew across the finish line into the Roman amphitheater in Verona, and into the arms of his adorable children. After two years' suspension and admitting the intention to dope in connection with Operacion Puerto, Basso is back, he's vindicated, and let's face it, he looks handsome. All hail the conquering Italian hero!

Last year's Giro is still my favorite, because of Armstrong's presence, and the route, which favored the most spectacular tourist destinations Italy can offer—from Vesuvius, to the Amalfi Coast, to my beloved Roma. But it was amazing this year to see the Gavia, where Andy Hampsten won with Bobke Roll's support in 1988. And Basso was the first guy I ever saw win this race after falling in love with cycling in 2006. Complimenti, Ivan!

Now begins the long fallow period between this race and the Tour de France. I think Versus is showing the Tour of Philadelphia next weekend. Between now and then I can do some more research on the Low Countries, because like the Giro this year, the Tour starts there. I can pull out my food and wine books on France. I can start to fantasize about biking around the castles and Medieval villages of the Loire Valley. I'll miss the cinematography of the Italians. The French somehow manage to be drier about their coverage—not so many shots of pretty girls or long lingering shots of fancy bikes, shoes, gear. But we'll have the beauty of the helicopter shots—castles, vineyards, beaches. France is gorgeous. And we'll have Phil Liggett, Paul Sherwen, and Bobke Roll at their best, for this is the big kahuna, the fancy dress ball of cycling, and they love it! Aaah, the wondrous cycling grand tour!

And I get a month off! To train for my triathlon, and try to lose weight for Cabo. Saturdays at Zuma beach swimming a half-mile and biking, then boogie boarding and eating with my friends. Working on my running pace, biking up over trash hill in Griffith Park, lap after lap at the San Fernando Valley pool.

Wish me luck! And until the Tour, "Au revoir!"

Stage 19: Passo di Mortirolo

Today is the first of two outrageously difficult mountain stages, which are both famous in Giro history. As I turned on the TV this morning, I saw narrow mountain roads, barely paved, with thick green forest all around, and cyclists in their bright kit rapidly descending. Another beautiful stage, but so different from yesterday! Today and tomorrow are like a one-two punch, and many riders will be knocked out, and the real winner will emerge. Today's stage finishes in a minor ski resort town, hence the picture above.

Watching it in Italian today, because even though I can barely understand what they are saying, they really know what they are talking about, and they are so excited! Sorry, Universal Sports, but your commentators are looking a bit tired and burned out. But the Italian commentators know they are watching the moments of truth, finally, and they are ready for fireworks!

Wow, looks like it could be Ivan Basso, aka The Smiling Assassin, as the Italian press have dubbed him. He looks good. So does Stefano Garzelli, he whose eyebrows are more nicely waxed and sculpted than mine will ever be. And a father of 3. Only the Italians would put the leader of the hardest race in the world in an entirely pink outfit. They have nothing to prove, having minted their own brand of machismo. Maybe they invented it with Romulus and Remus. Or maybe it was those guys in the 300 movie.

At any rate, while I was looking around the internet this morning to find interesting food and drink from this stage's area, I found this cute site for an agriturismo near Lake Como. Humble little farmhouse where they cook for you and serve organic wine. The menu looks amazing, the rooms humble but comfortable. And they have a sweet-looking dog. This is the kind of travel I am coming to love in Italy. Yes, it's easier for me to do it, because I have some halting Italian and understand it well enough to get by, but even if you only speak English, you must have the experience of the real Italian hospitality. The kindness, the generosity of spirit is just exquisite. And the home-cooked food is better than in any restaurant. The pride in Mamma's cooking is unbelievable, and well-deserved.

In Poggio Bustone we got to try a home-made digestivo or after-dinner drink made with gentian root and some other herbs. It came after a 3-course meal that included pasta, meat and an antipasto, all served with home-made unfiltered white wine. The tomato sauce had such delicate flavor, and the hand-made pasta was springy and just chewy enough. This meal was prepared in the fly by someone's Mom. It was delicious. The place had the red and white checkered table cloth that used to be the cliche of New York Italian restaurants. The chairs were plastic garden furniture. The chef also made jams, jellies and jarred pickles. She came out and spoke to us and introduced us to her son and daughter and grand-daughter. Such genuinely welcoming folks!

So as the lions of Italian cycling, Basso, Scarponi, Garzelli and Nibali, turn themselves inside-out climbing mountains, I'm thinking of reason #1 to love Italy—the people.

Forza Italia!

A domani!

Check out the site: Agriturismo Al-Marnich

Stage 17: Brunico to Peio Terme

Today it's another mountainous stage in the Alto Adige—this time, a road race rather than a mountain time trial like yesterday. It was nice to see Stefano Garzelli take the stage at Kronplatz. He did so well in the Giro last year, and he hasn't been so dominant this year. But then, he is a mountain goat. Evans and Basso seem to be clawing their way to the top. Most of the sprinters have dropped out of the race by now. It's climbers and peaks from now on, all the way to the final day in Verona.

When Mussolini's Italy took over this area from the crumbling Austro-Hungarian Empire, some 90% of the people spoke German, and he tried to force them to learn Italian and encouraged Italian speakers to move in. But about 30% still speak German as their native language, and you can eat Germanic desserts like "kaiserschmarren" above, and drink wine, like the above Alois Lageder Pino Bianco. The grape is familiar, but the style of winemaking will feel more German.

I think in America we tend to think of Italian and German culture as very different from one another, but one thing we know less about is this Alpine culture that crosses the mountains and embraces the multilingual Swiss, the Germans, the Italians and the Austrians of the highlands. Borders have changed so often in this area, that folks must be more likely to identify themselves by their home villages rather than by their country. This is true in most of Italy. The views of this area shows high mountain meadows striped with vineyards and fields of hops. Roofs of the houses here have deep eaves. Wow, this is a pretty stage!

For those just starting to read this blog, yes, the Giro takes 3 weeks! So does the Tour de France and the Vuelta a Espagna. This is the definition of a Grand Tour in cycling—It is 21 days with 2 rest days per week, usually, and it includes time trials, possibly a team time trial, flat days for the sprinters, mountain stages, "cronoscalate" or combination mountain and time trials stages like yesterday's, and circuits. Just imagine how tired the riders are! No sporting event lasts longer, and, in my opinion, requires more endurance! It is brutal, and that makes it exciting.

Someday I'll go snowboarding up there! Can't wait to go someplace in Europe to see what it's like. I'd love to ski Mount Etna, but there are no trees. I bet around Bolzano it's just gorgeous, and the cheese is amazing. Yes, peanut butter is the ultimate mountain super food, and I'm pretty sure they don't have it there, but I'll live.

Viva il Giro! Viva Italia!

A domani!