We arrived in Beijing Monday night. The "we" I will refer to is me and my son, Henri, who is 15 and will be recording the experience on his Flip Cam and Go Pro camera's. Henri is a recent graduate of the Media Arts in the Public Schools program in Hamilton, and has extensive background in both documentary film-making and Chinese food.
The days leading up to our departure were filled with last minute details: getting camera equipment together, packing the bike, and some last-minute workouts so that we could get on the plane and pass out (which worked perfectly.) Boarding the flight in Seattle, I began to notice the signs of the impending international competition as several lean-looking, sun-wrinkled travelers gave away their preoccupations by sporting various national team uniforms, toting water bottles, and donning those ridiculous-looking compression socks, which are supposed to improved recovery circulation and keep your legs from swelling on a flight. I had the common decency to wear mine under my boots and jeans, although the going fashion is the wear the knee-high socks with a pair of Tevas or running shoes and your running shorts. Yech. Remember when your parents wouldn't let you get on a plane without a sport coat and tie. Me neither...
The night-time arrival in Beijing was a little intimidating. HUGE city, very industrial and spread out, and you could taste the thickness of the air (humidity and smog) as soon as they opened the plane doors. Henri said is smelled like used candles. His descriptions will become a theme of this trip.
Having slept most of the 15-hour flight, we found ourselves wide awake till 4am, then got up and explored the Loong Palace Hotel Resort, where we are staying. Nice place outside of downtown, and a little too plush to experience the nitty-gritty of Beijing. We headed to the athlete's registration near the Shisaling Reservoir, which at its center has Mao's Tomb in a temple on a little island. The course is the same one used for the 2008 Beijing Olympic Triathlon, and it is, in a word GRAND. The dam has spectating facilities built into its 1 km length, and the setup to watch the swim and transitions has very much a Roman Gladiator feel to it. I got chills coming out of the tepid, green water, and not because it was cold; the place just feels like a big sporting venue.
Henri and I swam, worked on getting the camera equipment together, and he taped some interviews I did with some young local press members. They wanted to interview each and every athlete, from the pros to us older amateurs. They loved Henri, with his cameras and long blond hair and statuesque presence. I think he likes being the tall one here.
I went for a little training ride near our hotel in the afternoon, while Henri checked out the hotel's bowling alley. Probably the single scariest urban ride I've ever done, dodging cars, trucks, dogs, pedestrians, electric rickshaws, and myopic drivers. Best way to get a feel for a place is to jump in and get lost, and I did both.
Henri and I decided to forgo the safe comfort of the hotel's various western restaurants and headed to a neighborhood called Hue Guang, and walked around looking like polar bears in the jungle until we found a sidewalk cafe. Nobody spoke a word of English, and we ordered by picture and gesture. We ended up eating a huge, spicy dinner of fish soup, roasted chile pork, and various forms of rice. Probably the hottest, cheapest, and best "street food" I've ever had. Eight huge plates of all sorts of weird, hot stuff. $12.
This morning, we are off to the Aquathlon, a run-swim-run race that is sort of a tune-up for Saturday's main event. More reports later today.
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