I managed to succesfully find my way to Cortina, and knocked rather gingerly on the front door of the house. Aunt Ashi Wangmo opened the door, a beaming smile on her face. She told me how pleased she was to see me, but Uncle Luigi was away on 'business' and their daughter was at university in Trento, just south of here, but would be back next weekend; so it was just us two at the house together. We sat and chatted for a while, reminiscing about life back in the Land of the Thunder Dragon, and how much we were both missing it. Thankfully, she didn't steer the conversation on to cycling - I've had quite enough talk of that recently!

The next day I went out on a reconnaisance trip in my little rented Fiat Panda, to see exactly how steep the surrounding passes were. I eventually settled on a training route - set out west up the Passo Falzarego, and then tackle the descent, which swings round southwards, until I spotted a small side-road, which took me to the foot of the mighty Passo Giau. I would then proceed to climb that and then, after a difficult but satisfying descent, arrive back in Cortina in less than a couple of hours.


This picture of the Passo Giau hangs in the spare room (my room) of my aunt and uncle's house in Cortina. According to Ashi, Luigi is a big fan of cycling.

It was my last day in Cortina. Weary, and rather worryingly, exhausted, I returned back to the town after a particularly strenuous training ride. Since it was getting late, I thought I'd head down to the Bar Dolomiti in the town for a quick drink.

As soon as I arrived, the hubbub of the thronging crowd inside hit me like the wall of crowd noise you experience cycling up a mountain. I quickly calibrated myself and ordered a martini from the bar (shaken, not stirred, naturally) and sat down in a relatively quiet corner, sipping languidly. I looked up and gazed across the room. I was intercepted by a piercing, yet benevolent gaze coming from the other side of the room. We both simultaneously stood up, and as if in a trance, walked towards each other. I was snapped out of my reverie by her husky inquiry,
'What's a handsome young Indian like you doing 'round this part of the world?'
'I'm from Bhutan, actually. I'm here on holiday, with relatives.' I replied stutteringly.'
'How wonderful.'
Her phone started to ring. She blushed, and in a smooth movement whipped it out from her pocket. After scanning it briefly with her hazel-brown eyes, she looked up at me.
'My mother wants me back home. I'll see you some other time, mio caro.'
With a swish of her ravishing dark hair, and a smile on her face, she strode out, her shapely figure resplendent in the light of the bar.

Rigoberto Urán
Vasil Kiryienka
Dario Cataldo
Peter Kennaugh
Chambula Dorji
David López
Danny Pate
Xabier Zandio

Youth: Tejay van Garderen (BMC Racing Team

Team: Katusha Team