Chiavenna, Italy —

There is nothing glamorous about international air travel, but it’s still a miracle. Thirteen hours after hopping into a cab in Queens, we were lugging the suitcases up our Italian path and into the garden. The fatigue of jet lag adds to the cloudy and magical effect of plopping down thousands of miles and cultures away from the diners and bodegas of NYC.

The garden is serene but down in town the mood is lively as Chiavenna prepares to welcome the Giro d’Italia. The Giro is Italy’s premier cycling event and this is its centennial year. Nothing much has happened in Chiavenna since the Romans left so hosting the finish of stage seven is a big deal.  

I’m no real expert on cycling but Friday’s race looks pretty impressive on paper.  It spans 244 kilometers and three countries (Austria, Switzerland and Italy).  Beginning in Innsbruck, it is all up hill for the first 200 km as the cyclists rise 1,236 meters (almost 4,000 ft.) to the Maloja Pass just outside of St. Moritz.  Then, it plummets 1,513 meters (4,800 ft.) to the finish.  It is being hyped as not only one of the most technically difficult stages of the race but also as the most spectacularly beautiful.  Lance Armstrong is in the pack so we are pretty excited. 

Here then, is Dave’s first and most likely last professional sports blog.

Race Day never dawns on Chiavenna.  The clouds hang dense and low, totally obscuring the towering Alps around us.  And it is pouring.  I’m following the race on the web and the cyclists don’t hit rain until just before St. Moritz.  Then it begins to sleet.  Donna and I stroll down to sports central here in our little village, the local bar.  It is packed though not everyone is entranced by the race.

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The pack hits the hairpin corners of the Maloja pass but any strategic manovering is ruled out because of the road conditions.  The group spouts dozens of fountains of water as they descend and everyone here is just happy to see that the riders all make it through safely.  Michael Rogers of the Columbia-High Road team later commented that he had never been so scared on a bike as he was during those 4 treacherous kilometers.

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As the riders pass the Swiss/Italian border, the bar empties out and everyone makes their way down to the main road.  I am about to witness a small piece of cycling history.  The leader arrives accompanied by the blare of police sirens and we miss him as he is obscured by the press cycle.  Bummer.  We have heard that the pack is a little less than a minute behind and everyone stares down the gloomy, vacant road.  

If you want to know what it’s like to see the Giro pass, look at the photo below and wiggle your eyeballs back and forth for about 17 seconds.

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Now stare at this pic for about a minute.

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That’s about it.  Couldn’t figure out which one was Lance.

We wander along the river down into Chiavenna proper and the city is eerily deserted.  Everyone’s at the finish line, where the day’s winner is awarded the pink riding jersey.  Pink?  With all of the vibrant colors of Italy it looks to me like the guy washed his t-shirt with a red sock.   The historic color actually hails from the rose colored pages of the Gazzetta dello Sport, the Giro’s original sponsor.   Wandering the quiet streets, we enjoy what turned out to be my favorite part of Chiavenna’s Giro d’Italia experience, the Giro themed shop windows.  I was especially charmed by the Gazzetta dello Sport wedding dress below, which our friend Lucia created for her boutique.

And today, the Romans have gone and the Giro has gone and the sun has come out and life is back to normal in sleepy Chiavenna.

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