I remember the incredibly friendly people from San Juan, the way they enjoyed it when I tried to speak Spanish with them, and how excited they were when my rider (Rudy Barbier) won the opening stage. I remember when I went to one of the huge markets in Kigali and made photos and videos of the locals, the kids hugging me because I looked different, and how loud everyone shouted when the Rwandan riders broke away from the peloton. However, there is one specific memory that I surely will never forget.
It was stage two in the Tour Colombia and I traveled together with the soigneurs to the feed zone, over eighty kilometers into the race. We had around two hours of free time in the smallest town in the middle of nowhere. I started walking around, had a look at the local church, and then accidentally bumped into an elderly woman.
I said ‘excuse me’ in Spanish – ‘disculpe’ – and walked on, but the woman called me back and asked me to follow her to her home. So, I hesitantly did. A few minutes later, she introduced me first to her two rabbits, then to her cousin, nephew, and grandchildren. A few moments later all of them started calling other family members. Half an hour later I was having tea with the whole family, talking Spanish, and waiting for the race to arrive.