Tales of the Tour de France
I wrote earlier about the Tour de France – the greatest cycling race in the world. Here are some of the biggest names, and the stories I’ve heard about them.
Cadel Evans is far and away the biggest Australian star of the Tour (he leads the red-clad BMC team, which is an American team – there is no Australian team in the tour). As a General Classification rider, he is good at everything, and is considered one of the most likely contendors for first place overall. He is particularly good at climbing mountains – and has the short stature and frightening skinniness to go with it. As a rule, professional cyclists are pretty darn ugly. Cadel is no exception. His face could best be described as “distinctive”. The cleft in his chin is so deep I assume he keeps spare change in there. His greatest weakness is psychological – if things go bad, he doesn’t seem to bounce back. Right now, however, he is perfectly placed to win and he knows it. (In the GC list he’s currently placed third, but the current leader is not going to last through the Alps, and the current second-place man will fall back in stage 20. If he was already leading overall, etiquette would demand that his team sacrificed themselves with the heavier tasks within the pelaton, which would probably tire them out and cause them to fail later on). In all the carnage of crashes that have characterised this tour, Cadel and BMC are yet to be touched by bad luck (partly because of their strategy of riding at the front of the pelaton pack). He feels the weight of all Australia watching him (there are always many Australian flags along the route of the Tour as well), and is always fast to tearfully acknowledge the hard work of his team when he wins. His goal is to win overall, so any time spent in (usually) the king of the mountain jersey- a jersey that is rewarded along the way with a succession of soft toys. Cadel made the comment that he didn’t need the king of the mountains jersey, because he’d already had enough toys to give to all his nieces and nephews.
Frank and Andy Schleck of Luxemburg are two brothers, either of whom could win overall. As an only child, Cadel has said that he’s mystified by their connection. As someone with two siblings, I’m impressed by their mutual humility – they honestly don’t decide who is the team leader until the Tour is nearly over. At that point, whichever brother isn’t doing quite as well will bow out and sacrifice his strength for the other. Frank is the older brother, but Andy is usually slightly better at the Tour type of contest – in fact, he came second last year. Either one could lead a team in his own right, but because they work together they effectively play two against one. The GC leaders always keep an extremely close eye on one another (there’s usually less than a minute between first and second place), and ride close together. An “attack” happens when one man suddenly accelerates to get ahead of everyone else. The rest immediately respond by chasing them – not letting them get ahead. But with both Frank and Andy on board, team Leopard-Trek (black and white jerseys with a horizontal turquoise stripe across the chest) can launch so many attacks that all the others are exhausted and finally defeated. Andy is only 26, and is one of about three cyclists who still have a baby face. Frank looks similar, but definitely older.
Alberto Contador is everyone’s arch-enemy on the Tour, but especially for Andy Schleck. Last year, the two were literally neck and neck, fighting with all their being for a few seconds’ advantage – and Andy’s chain fell off. Mechanical incidents are always a part of the Tour, and there is an etiquette in place to counteract some of the bad luck (the entire pelaton will slow down if there is a delay behins them in the first three-quarters of the race.
Contador sped ahead – arguably costing Andy the overall win. Last year, Contador won by twenty-three seconds. Andy was furious; Contador said he hadn’t noticed the chain falling off; most riders acknowledge that since it’s a race, Contador did the right thing; the general public now jeers and boos when he passes by.
Alberto Contador’s 2010 win is also overshadowed by a positive drug test that is yet to be resolved. (The drug that was detected makes no sense, but it clearly shouldn’t have been in his system, so something is screwy.) He is Spanish, and leads team Saxobank (who wear a very pale blue jersey that looks white to me). I’m honestly not that impressed by his team. I think Contador is so good he often rides as if he doesn’t need a team at all – so this year, when he does need support, they’re just not as good as BMC or Leopard Trek. It’s been an apalling Tour for him. He lost over a minute and a half on the first day due to being behind a domino-style crash that blocked the road. He’s had several minor falls. At one stage, he spent time catching up to the main field all by himself – unthinkable in an ordinary team, when several men will stop even when their leader is too badly injured to lead them any more. The team ALWAYS looks after their leader, and rides with him – especially when he needs to catch up to the group. Contador has injured his knee, but commentators wonder if he’s shamming in order to put others off their guard.
Leaving aside the major GC contendors, there is one more man very much worth watching: Mark Cavendish. He is widely acknowledged as the world’s fastest man, and is riding a slightly different race to the rest of the pack: he aims to win as many Tour de France stages as possible, and set a new record. With 19 wins (!!) and youth on his side, he will do it. It irritates him that he’s never won the green jersey – but it looks like he’ll probably win that this year, too. His team is HTC – another white jersey.
As a person, I find him whiny and irritating – almost always complaining about the unfair behaviour of other teams when he wins a stage. He is extremely unpopular (and extremely talented), so I think there’s actually truth in what he says – the etiquette that guards everyone else frays where he is concerned. He loves his own team, however, and always seeks out every single member to thank them personally when he wins. They are, in my opinion, the best team in the Tour. Their precision is something to see.
Since I wrote the above, Stage 16 happened. It was AWESOME. Contador launched two mighty attacks, and managed for the first time to shake off the Schleck brothers. . . but not Cadel (or Sammy Sanchez for that matter). Then Cadel attacked again, and gained a few MORE seconds on Contador.
Cadel is now in second place overall after Thomas Voeckler, a French man who says himself he has a 0% chance of keeping his position through the Alps. . . but he’s lasted astonishingly well so far, and has two minutes’ advantage.
I predict Cadel will win, and Frank and Andy Schleck may well score second and third place.
If you want to savour the goodness (and you’re Australian), you should watch the last twenty kilometres of stage 19 (this Friday), the individual time trial on Saturday (when the overall race is won or lost), and the final semi-ceremonial stage on Sunday (when the sprint is won or lost).
Under the weather but over the moon
For the last two weeks, my nausea has been worse. As well as being uncomfortable, it’s been extremely disheartening and frightening (six months more of this?????). So it was good to go for my monthly checkup today and have my doctor say that I’ll probably be feeling better and better over the next two weeks. I needed that.
I’ve had less than one serve each of meat, vegetables, or fruit in seven weeks. Here’s hoping that’s about to change.
Every so often I get a brilliant hormonal high – “I’m having a BABY!!!!” which I expect to see much more of as the nausea fades.
Here’s my oh-so-cunning parental plan for the week: extra-curricular activities.
I hope to enrol my kids in:
1. Swimming – brilliant exercise, useful for swimming carnivals (my own memories of winning second place are very special – and, given my lack of actual athletic prowess, unique), health, family holidays, and maybe even future exercise (swimming is almost the only exercise I do regularly – it is the single reason I’m not obese). Also, swimming skills could save their lives.
2. Singing – again it’s socially useful (singing is something that does actually happen in social situations), and also great training for public speaking and/or performing. We will also have an electric piano at home, so of course that’ll be the musical instrument of choice (unless there’s a school band, in which case something else may be better).
3. Soccer – it’s a sport that transfers easily to any grassy space, and involves a lot of useful running around (without a strong likelihood of injury, which is a plus). It effectively trains the kids to run – saving them from the most extreme humiliations on sports days. You can play it all year round, and especially in Winter.
I figure that if kids are enrolled in things early enough, they’ll get good at sport/public performance before they know how unco/shy they are. Once they get to high school, I’m sure they’ll have their own optinions.
What was your most useful extra-curricular activity?
“Making Money” by Terry Pratchett
I married a man with a LARGE pile of books, and I’ve been happily reading through all his speculative fiction for the last two years. Terry Pratchett has written a LOT of books.
This book is about Moist von Lipwig (yes really), who is a probably-reformed conman whose fast-talking has saved the defunct post office. But now that the post office is saved, he is dying inside for lack of life-threatening terror. Luckily, the proudly tyrannical Lord Vetinari (who believes in keeping his citizens alive, since a live customer is worth more than a dead customer), steps in to give him another impossible task and a whole new crop of deadly enemies. The other main character is Adora Belle Dearheart, an understandably angry woman who devotes herself to the rights of the city’s many golems.
This is a Discworld novel, which means it is set in a disc-shaped world that rests on the backs of four elephants standing on the shell of a giant turtle swimming through space. Most of the action takes place in Ankh-Morpork, which is a little like London but greedier and dirtier. It’s also more bureaucratic, with more hazardous sausages and more screams in the night.
Pratchett’s world is certainly fantasy, with a variety of mystical species and wizards. It is also humour; a mix of groanworthy puns and biting satire (in this case, the thrust of the satire is about the banking system – which, when you think about it, is one giant con).
I’ve discovered in my reading that I don’t actually like humour as a genre – I want to take my heroes seriously. I especially dislike any humour based on puns or other self-aware language jokes (because they pull me out of the story), and I hate overdone accents with a fiery passion. There are a LOT of overdone accents in Pratchett books.
However, he is the master of his world, and none of his imitators are as good. If you like him, you’ll probably like Jasper Fforde, Douglas Adams, and “Splashdown Silver” by Tansy Rainer Roberts.
Rating: I think G for everything Pratchett. Naughty things are implied sometimes, but very carefully not said. Some people die but it’s generally comical, and never truly frightening.
“[Moist] was not naturally at ease in the presence of skulls. Humans have been genetically programmed not to be ever since monkey times, because a) whatever turned that skull into a skull might still be around and you should head for a tree now, and b) skulls look like they’re having a laugh at one’s expense.”
Encouragement
Pregnant ladies get a LOT of advice, and some of it is downright bizarre (like, “Sleep now, while you can” – because I can totally save it up for when the baby is born). I am lucky enough to have a mum, mum-in-law and sister who don’t feel the urge to use my pregnancy as an excuse to complain about their own experiences of motherhood.
Here are the three most encouraging things other people have said to me:
From a mum of three: “One day you’ll just wake up and not be nauseous any more.”
From my doctor: “Here” *passes me a prescription for much stronger meds*
From a new Mum of a six-week old: “Mine was more trouble out than in – but I think yours will be more trouble in than out.”
The third comment came yesterday, and neatly dismissed all they grey-faced tales of, “Ooh, you think THIS is bad. Wait until the baby comes. Your whole life will be RUINED.”
To be honest, though, my life has already been ruined by this child, now I think about it. I can’t enjoy food, sit up, drive, do my job, help around the house, or generally do. . . anything. When the baby comes I’ll lose a whole lot of sleep, but I’ll get a lot of the rest of my life back (if not before Mini-Me emerges – we can still hope this isn’t a nine-month thing). Plus, I get to see and touch him or her – which is worth a LOT of inconvenience.
For now, sleeping is good. I appreciate what I have. Even my pet zombie.
Sword Canes
I’ve mentioned the brilliant steampunk blog and resource Trial by Steam at least once before.
Here is an article on sword canes. Yep, sword canes. How good is that?
Here’s an excerpt:
Please note that these weapons are illegal in the states of California and Wisconsin. It is your responsibility as a potential owner of a lethal weapon to check your local laws for other stipulations which may affect the transport or use of a sword cane if you choose to purchase one. Please be a responsible owner.
Plot Device Film, and Ten Untranslatable Words
Here is a movie and an article that are sashaying around the writerly blogosphere at the moment.
Yes, it’s a long film for youtube. But it’s way shorter than a movie, and just as good. Say hi to the zombies for me.
And this is an article by someone who has picked ten words that have been adopted from English into other languages due to their precise meanings.
“Heroes of the Valley” by Jonathan Stroud
This book is about Halli, a midwinter’s child who grows up on the epic tales of his ancestors. He is sick of the peaceful political haggling of his village, and longs to be a hero. He runs into Aud, a daughter of another House, who is even more trouble than he is. When a man is killed, Halli seeks vengeance – but heroism isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. When people start telling stories about him, he realises stories have a life of their own. (This paragraph focuses on the theme, which I find fascinating – but probably doesn’t do justice to the book’s many other qualities.)
This book has great characters, great scary action, and it’s very very funny. But the most extraordinary thing is Stroud’s voice. It is clear on every single page that no-one else could have written this book. The unique flavour is fantastic, and I want more.
Like “Larklight” by Philip Reeve, this is a book where I could literally open at any page and give you a brilliant quote. But Katla is one of my favourite characters ever, so I had to include her:
When he was older, Halli’s nurse, Katla, drew his attentions to the date of his arrival in the world. She clucked and whistled through her nose at the sinister implications. “It is a dangerous day, midwinter,” she said as she tucked him tightly into his cot. “Brats born then have an affinity with dark and secret things, with witchcraft and the promptings of the moon. You must be careful not to listen to this side of your nature, else it will lead without fail to your death and the destruction of your loved ones. Aside from that, dear Halli, there is nothing to worry about. Sleep well.”
Gain super powers
Pregnant women often notice a bizarre increase in their sense of smell. When my parents gave CJ and I a lift to the ultrasound on Tuesday, I smelled a dog in their car. Not dog, mind you, *A* dog. A specific dog. A specific dog that has travelled in that car before – but has also been dead for over two years. And no, it’s not the only dog to travel in that car.
Not convinced? Like more measurable results? Okay.
On Monday I went to my optometrist for a routine appointment. She is thorough, and insisted on re-testing my eyesight despite the fact that she tested it only two months ago. It turned out that it’s a good thing she did: my eyesight has improved.
“I’ve heard that pregnancy sometimes changes the shape of the cornea,” she said, “but I’ve never actually seen the effects before.”
I can only assume that I’ll have ninja skills by Summertime.
Who wants to be my sidekick?
Hello, Mini-Me
Before I forget: The “me” in Mini-Me refers to whoever is speaking at the time. It works best with relatives, but all humans are pretty similar when they’re babies, so ultimately there’s a little bit of all of us in Mini-Me. Hence the name.
Today I’ll be calling Mini-Me “he” some of the time, and “she” some of the time. I won’t know which is true until the 20-week scan.
Yesterday, at an estimated 12 weeks and 6 days, CJ and I and every single one of Mini-Me’s future grandparents wheedled our way into an ultrasound room and took a good look through my skin.
Given the amount of medication I’ve been on, I was rather pleased to see that Mini-Me has two arms, two legs, and a perfectly normal spine and face. He wriggled and giggled and kicked and waved. There was rather a lot of butt-waggling, and I had to keep myself from giggling and making things even harder for the technician.
Mini-Me did headstands, and arched her back, and swam around like a little fish (at 13 weeks, she has plenty of room to move). He stretched and turned over and facepalmed. At 7cm from head to bum, she looks basically human – and she is. He even has teeth growing inside his gums, and ears and lungs and eyelids.
After taking various measurements and checking the heartbeat, the technician told us the new, more accurate due date. . . 18 January! Absolutely no change, which means Wednesdays will still mark the end of each passing week. Which also means today marks the beginning of second trimester.
Sorry, what’s that you say? You’d like to see pictures? Oh, if you insist.
As CJ put it: “There’s a HUMAN BEING in there!”
First snow
Yesterday, for the first time since May, I ran an errand – taking myself to the optometrist.
In my steampunk book (set mainly in Australia), I keep describing various bits of bushland as silvery-green, grey-green, dull green and grey, etc. As I drove along gaping at the foreignness of familiar streets, I realised how very wrong I was. There are trees with oval leaves in pale blue, others with leaves pointed like spears, black trunks bleeding red sap, others peeling away like snakes sloughing their skin, wattle bushes with sprays of soft spheres in brilliant yellow. Altogether, bushland (even by the side of the road here in the city) is red, orange, purple, black, green, silver, gold, pale blue and purple.
I’ll be correcting my error in the book shortly.
Canberra is surrounded by hills that are usually blue with distance. In Winter they become sharper, clearer, and full of detail – including hats of pristine snow. For me, yesterday was the first day this year to see that snow.
Tomorrow: Details of my twelve-week ultrasound.
Felicity Banks 