Nabbing Free Souvenirs At The Tour De France

by Rob Annis on

So you’ve promised all your friends and family you’d bring them back souvenirs from your Tour de France trip. Although buying everyone a €20 T-shirt will help solve the lingering effects of the European financial crisis, it’s also going to put a bigger dent in your bank statement than those $1,300 plane tickets to France.

Before the start of each stage, a massive convoy of vehicles called the publicity caravan travels the day’s stage route. Imagine a massive carnival on wheels, filled with water-spraying acrobats, comically oversized plaster bike riders and lots of students throwing out free candy, hats, laundry detergent and more to the fans waiting for the race action to begin. Depending on the number of stages you see, you could easily fill an extra carry-on bag with the trinkets.
Advertisers pay tour organizers more than €150,000 for three or more spots in the caravan, which numbers in the hundreds. But with millions of people lining the route over the 23 days of the Tour, it’s probably a solid investment.

An estimated 11 million items are given away during each year’s Tour, and I managed to snag more than a few of them. But there’s one thing that stands out more than any of the others.

Standing on the side of the road leading up to the Col de Portet-d’Aspet, I desperately tried to nab one of the more prized freebies of the day, a green T-shirt modeled after the Tour’s sprinter jersey, but came up just short. When a couple of candy packages landed at my feet, I handed them to the excited young boy standing next to me rather than stuffing them into my jersey pocket (and later, my mouth). His happiness was contagious, and as more items kept landing next to me, I, in turn, handed them to him.

As the caravan began winding down, I began walking away when I felt a tap on my shoulder. The boy’s grandfather held out one of the T-shirts I attempted to grab earlier, the boy standing behind him with that same smile on his face. I held up my hands, attempting to decline the offer – after all, it didn’t seem like a fair trade – but the grandfather put the T-shirt in my hand and clasped my fingers around the fabric. I offered a heartfelt merci, and the two walked away to rejoin their family. I was grateful for the shirt, but the boy’s generosity will stay with me forever.

A World Health Map

by Elizabeth Seward on

Odra Noel is a scientific artist who has just created and released a piece she called “The Map of Health.” The map provides a visual representation of diseases affecting regions of the world. What’s more is that she uses depictions of affected body parts by each disease for each disease. The USA, which struggles with obesity and obesity-related diseases, is speckled with fat tissue. And with HIV being a leading cause of death in many countries of Africa, the continent is covered in images of blood cells. It’s an interesting and insightful map, one that might lend some thought or conversation about the people we meet when we travel and what kinds of illnesses they deal with regularly.

Thanks, Laughing Squid.

Fascinating Map Of London By Stephen Walter

by Elizabeth Seward on


Stephen Walter has a way of creating complex and obsessive art — specifically, maps. His maps of various areas in England are often enlightening, but he has himself beat with one of his latest creations: a fascinating map of London and its underground. The map was commissioned by the London Transport Museum and while doing his research for the project, Walter uncovered legions of undiscovered facts about London and began incorporating the eerie history beneath the surface of London into the map itself. The map isn’t all historical facts, though. Interjecting his own imagination with fabled stories and general lore alongside the facts, Walter created a map like no other — it transports you into a magical, parallel universe of London, where hearsay is marked and remembered.

[Thanks, Intelligent Life]

The Best Way To Experience The Tour de France? From A Bike Saddle

by Rob Annis on

The cyclists get the glory, but it’s the fans who make the Tour de France arguably the world’s greatest race. During my recent trip, I was able to experience this firsthand.

Starting from our hotel in Nice, our group of riders wanted to ride the 75 kilometers to the village of Fayence, where the professional riders were scheduled to pass through around 4:30 p.m. (Race organizers use the difficulty of the terrain and the average race speed to make their estimations.)

The first 10 kilometers were mostly on a well-traveled bike path leading past the airport and out of the city. For most of that leg, we fell in behind a well-dressed young French woman, probably riding to work. The scene might have been humorous to drivers passing by: a woman in a skirt, pedaling a casual townie bike, leading out a dozen or so “serious” riders in full kit and helmets.

Arriving in Cagnes-sur-Mer, workers had just closed the race route to automobile traffic, leaving the roads open for the next few hours to spectators and cyclotourists. The next few hours would become some of the most treasured memories I’ll take away from this trip.Our group quickly splintered into smaller factions as the faster riders pedaled away. About six of us were in the front group, averaging 35 or so kph – not fast by pro standards, but decent for amateurs with careers and mortgage payments. As we rode through towns like Biot and Valbonne, the crowd clapped and cheered as if we were the riders they’d been waiting several hours to see. Riding by, hearing the repeated screams of “Allez!” – the informal cheer of the Tour de France – made my hair on my neck stand up.

French fans appreciate passion, effort and suffering. When they see it, whether it’s a world-famous pro or a pudgy Hoosier travel writer, they react accordingly.

After about 20 kilometers, we were mistakenly ushered off the route by a slightly confused police officer. For the next 15 kilometers, we attempted to navigate back to the race route, stopping every few kilometers to study the map. By the time we found our way back, we were in a race against the clock. We needed to make it to Fayence to meet up with the rest of our group before the publicity caravan rolled through.

Our small group would splinter again. With the others within our sights, a British rider named Keith and I battled to catch the wheels in front of us. Just outside of Fayence, a French police officer called a gendarme leapt out in front of us; we were the first riders to be ushered off the course. In mangled French, we pleaded with him to let us through, but he stood firm and offered us a detour.

“Two kilometers that way,” he said, pointing vaguely at a narrow road behind him. After several climbs already that day and a massive one slated for the next, we both were looking forward to an easy shortcut into town. We didn’t get one. The road seemingly became a wall, easily a 20 percent grade. We cursed our luck, before cursing the geological nightmare that birthed this wicked climb. At the top of the first hill, the asphalt gave way to stone as we rolled into a small medieval village. We stopped a passing car, driven by a tourist from Liverpool here for the Tour. He graciously offered to lead the way to Fayence, which, as our luck would have it, up another hill, albeit one that wasn’t as steep.

Five minutes later, we were descending into the town, eventually coming across the publicity caravan. We would find several other members of our group in an outdoor café, sipping drinks. Two hours later, I’m standing on the edge of the road, camera ready. Nearly a minute before I can see the breakaway riders, I can hear the crowd’s reaction to them.

I’ll likely never experience what it’s like to climb a beyond-category mountain in less than an hour or outkick Mark Cavendish to the finish line, but as the cheers grow louder and louder, I know that feeling. And no one can ever take that away from me.

Photo Of The Day: Summer Sanctuary

by Anna Brones on

For me, summer means spending time in the countryside – finding a quiet corner to explore that’s far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. It’s a time to breath in fresh air and take a moment and hit the “reset” button. That’s what I call a summer sanctuary.

Along with that comes eating outside. The summer months are meant to be spent outside, and what’s better than an afternoon coffee in the relaxing space of a garden or park? Flickr user Jon Bowen captures that summer essential in this simple photo snapped at Pullham Mill in Exmoor National Park. Green, luscious and relaxing, it makes me want a cup of tea and cake.

What is your summer sanctuary?

For a chance to be featured on Gadling’s Photo of the Day, submit your photos to the Gadling Flickr pool.