Friday, October 30, 2009

CMWC Tokyo Part 4

7am Tuesday morning found me feeling the effects of little sleep and too much alcohol. I woke up in my bunk at the hostel and felt like absolute garbage. I got up, organized my bag, rechecked my map for the route I plotted the night before and took off to hit the race grounds. I hadn’t though to fill my water bottle at the hostel and about 2 miles into the ride I had to stop and get water and some food to settle my stomach. I found a convenience store, bought water and a pack of soba noodles (these packs did me well and provided me with a lot of energy…nice stuff). Outside of the store I filled the water bottle, and then slammed the rest of the 2 litter bottle before taking off again.

As I rode along I came across 3 messengers from Germany who were trying to find their way to the race ground as well, I decided to tag with them for a while until we came to an intersection and I didn’t agree with the route they chose. I struck off down a different road then they did and soon found myself in Ginza on the road I was looking for. I had been biking for less then half an hour at this point and still felt utterly miserable. I turned east on the road and headed for the Bay. The first bridge I found I got nervous and hopped on the sidewalk. As I went I noticed that I had nothing to fear from traffic, even though it was moving faster, there was plenty of room for crazy scooter riders to cut around the cars, which meant plenty of room for a lone cyclist. I pulled onto the road at the other end of the bridge and kept going. A few bridges and scooter buzzing later and I was deep in the artificial islands of Tokyo Bay where I ran into 3 cyclists from Chicago that were taking a break and making sure their route was straight. I stopped, added my 2 cents to the check and we all took off. We decided to follow the monorail/train line overhead and pinpoint one specific station at which point we knew to turn south. The stations were easiest to follow because they were clearly marked on the maps we had and in real life, unlike many of the roads…some of which have no names.

We rode a few minutes and found the station then took the right and were on target. Ten minutes of uneventful and smooth, flat roads and we hit the north end of the race zone. You could tell because the parking lot to our left was cordoned off with the ‘street ways’ and someone was inflating a large Redbull balloon. I know my spirits lifted knowing we had found it but I still felt physically ill. I kept telling myself I was probably going to throw up at some point during the race. We rode down the next intersection and pulled onto the sidewalk to enter the other portion of the course located in a parking lot to the south. Here were all of the vender stalls and the start point of the race plus rows and rows of bike parking. I hoped off of my bike and wandered around breezing by the stalls, not interested in their contents at the moment and tried to figure out how to waste the next couple of hours before the race actually started.

So here I was, at the race ground, ready to do what I came to do. Waiting it out in the sun as the race course was set in two parking lots and a stretch of road. I started to regret not replacing the sunscreen the safety officials at O’Hare had thrown out because it was a container larger than 3 ounces. I saw a few people rolling through the race course so I figured I would try it out too. I hoped on the bike and entered the course with out any trouble. Made my way to the second parking lot and was stopped by a guard. I complied with his wild hand gestures and broken English and rode back to the other parking lot, hoped off the bike and continued to wander around the grounds aimlessly with bike in tow. After I while I headed to a convenience store located on the south end of the road portion of the course, bought some more water and a small rice ball to help settle my stomach.

Returning to the grounds I sat down to eat rest and study the map of the course, trying to memorize the stop names and the routes it took to get between them. More and more people started to gather and soon announcements were being made over the loudspeaker in English. By 11 they announced the course was open for test rides and I joined everyone else it checking it out properly. Still feeling like garbage I listlessly rode the course 3 times, trying different pathways and to get a sense of the time it would take to cover it one time before I decided it was time to get back to settling my stomach, fearing I would hurl while racing. Again I wandered around to all of the vendor stalls, to do something other than nothing to waste time even though I still had no interest in what the vendors were selling. Then, to end all of the waiting the qualifying round started. A large line formed at the entrance to the course as everyone waited to get their start. About 10 minutes later I decided to hop in line and just get the race over with. I didn’t want to miss any of the side contests that were scheduled to go on during the qualifying rounds either.

I got in line, maybe about 30 people deep at this point and waited, studying the map and calming my nerves and nausea. The line moved quickly and in a few minutes I was at the start table getting my packet. The jotted down the start time and I was off.

I followed suit and stopped just after the table and pulled out all of my order tags, it would be best I figured to figure out the routing as best as possible before hand. I took into consideration the route I would be taking to pick up and drop off the packages. Each tag had its pick up and drop off location as well as the time limit for the stops. There was 1 5 minute stop and I routed that one about half way in the stack and used it as the midpoint marker. I got the first half pretty solidly planned out and semi organized the 2nd half. I had an hour and a half to deliver all 10 tags. The faster you got them done the better and if you burned any of them you were screwed. I felt mildly confident with the order and the route, I put the map in my right cargo pocket, where manifests usually reside, threw the tags in my bag and took off for the first location, the closest stop.

The first stop brought me to the Adidas tent. I dropped my bike in the designated spot and swung my bag around as I neared the tent. There were 2 lines, drop off and pick up. I pulled the tags out to make sure everything was correct and handed it in at the drop off. They told me I needed to write my name and race number on it. I stepped aside so as not to impede a racer who had his shit together and wrote my info down hastily with the pen I had stuck in my hat. I handed back the tag, they marked my time and handed me the package with the bottom 2 tags stuck to it. I thanked them and headed off to collect my bike while wrestling with my bag to get the shoe box they gave me inside of it. This was my biggest concern, trouble handling the actual packages but I managed to do it anyways, hoping they didn’t doc me points for ugly tags. I secured my bag into place, grabbed my bike and took off, headed for another pick up. I pulled out the manifest to check my route and to make sure I was situated properly.

Being on the course with the race underway did wonders to clear my ill feelings, my head was clear and the stomach was settled, it was time for me to ride my ass off. I swung onto the street which they had cordoned off in a tricky and tight weave of lanes made from metal barriers. The lanes were comprised of a few wicked switch backs to both make for the most challenge and the most distance. The next checkpoint I came across was after the first switch back and one I didn’t need so while slowing down, watching for anyone else taking the lane, I swung around the corner, sprinted down the short lane, slowed turned another corner and was headed my original direction again towards the next pick up check point I needed, which resided at the far north end of the street lanes. This checkpoint was one where we had to lock our bikes up. I hoped off and quickly locked mine to one of the metal barriers used to stop you from biking all the way to the tent. I walked to the tent as I pulled the tags out of my bag to double check their accuracy. I filled out the tag while in line, handed it in and threw the envelope into my bag.

My next stop was to drop off the first package I picked up, I ran to the bike unlocked it and took off, making sure not to run into anyone who was taking the final north facing switchback or anyone slowing down to hit the stop I was leaving. I slowed down for the next turn that led me into the other parking lot and hopped my front wheel over the small incline leading to the driveway. The only thing that I found in Japan that annoyed me when it comes to their streets and biking is that sidewalk/driveway ramps are not flush with the road its self. Instead they have a small curb, maybe an inch or so high, which really isn’t anything to worry about in terns of ramming your tire into at full speed but I still worry non-the-less. I pulled into the parking lot and took the outside path only to realize a few seconds too late that I should have taken the inside one. Now I had to go all the way around to the north-eastern most corner of the lot and then back and forth on a switch back to get to essentially the same point if I would have taken the inside pathway…mistake number one.

As I rounded by the stop before the switchback I wondered what anyone paying attention to me was thinking as I didn’t stop at the tent and began sprinting back up the lane. I pushed that out of my head and slowed down considerably at the switch back, noting the skid marks and wondering how many this corner would accrue by the end of the race tomorrow. Once around the corner I stood up and sprinted again, already feeling winded from the over and unneeded exertions. I rounded out back to where I was originally supposed to be and followed the pathway to my drop off. I dumped the bike and ran to the tent, undoing my bag to pull the package out. I dropped it off, at which point they signed the drop off time took off the middle layer of the tag and handed that back to me. I stuffed it into the plastic sleeve I was handed at the start of the race and got into the pick up line to get my package from this stop. Once I had that I placed it in the bag, strapped myself down and took off. I followed the course back out to the normal entrance and was once again out on the street portion of the course. I was now on the longest straightaway of the course and took off to try and make up for time lost. I pounded down the block or so stretch of open straight course and slowed down to make the next hairpin switch back. A crowd had started to gather at this turn, which was where the convenience store was located. I also noticed Jerome has parked himself momentarily at this turn as well to get action shots.

I made the turn, stood up and tried to gain my momentum again before the next switch back, slowed down and did it all over again. Came back down to the end of the lane, slowed down, made one more switchback, sprinted a short distance and turned left to find myself back into the main parking lot. I pulled out my map and studied it trying to make sure I went the correct path as I rounded the outside of the course. I hoped that my memory served me correct and the next stop I had in mind was the correct one. As I rode around I spotted Drew from Chicago and shouted out to him to see if the path I was thinking was the correct one, he affirmed my assumption and I took kept going, only slightly relieved. This would be a major deciding point in my mind if I missed this stop from choosing the wrong pathway. In order to deliver the package I would have to swing around again, using lanes they set up in the switchback series on the road to alleviate the need to go through the other parking lot to get back on course. I could do it, but it would take time out and throw a wrench in my routing plans. So as I made the upper corner and selected the pathway I thought would take me to the checkpoint I needed I was only partially relived when I saw I had chosen the correct path. Now the nagging feeling that I had the wrong stop in mind remained. This stop was also a lock point and I jumped off the bike, leaned it against the gate and forgot to lock it.

I pulled out the package, feeling immense relief when the drop off was correct and handed it in. I handed it in, got my time stamp and took off. I hadn’t routed the pick up from this location yet and took off only realizing that I never locked my bike and that they never stopped me about it once I was taking off from the stop. I sped off to the next pick up location which was located near the first stop I did. I swung around and came up the pathway to the start/finish. I remembered Eli yelling at someone wondering what they were doing as they swung around the top of the course instead of taking the cut through before the start/stop and remembered not to do the same thing. I swung around and was back on the start of the course headed to the next pick up.

The rest of the race was and still is mostly a blur. I started to phase out everything but the road in front of me and my mental map of the course. In my second loop I had to take the alternate way out of the northern parking lot which led you to a short staircase you had to climb and then empty out on the long straightaway. This was a fun little addition to the mess and made for some semi-dangerous situations as you tried to mount your bike as quickly as possible while people had already begun to sprint down the lane from the parking lots real exit. I ended up dropping my map on the straight away the second time through and had to rely on my mental map for the rest of the race. It actually seemed that I made better time going off of memory than off of the map. After I finished the race I noticed that a lot of people had taped the race course map to their stem…nice idea, I’ll have to keep that in mind for future map based races.

The other portion of the race I remember clearly is when I did the 5 minute stop. The pick up was located at the TKBMA checkpoint at the far northeast end of the north parking lot. You had to then deliver it to the Adidas checkpoint, which was the first one I hit. The TKBMA tent was located right before the switchback in that parking lot that I accidentally took the first time through when I didn’t have to. I hit the pick up with nothing else in my bag. I grabbed it and threw it in and took off. On my way around to exit the parking lot I considered stopping at the Guatemala CMWC checkpoint which was just before the pathway to the stair exit, but decided, wisely, against it. I knew I would be able to make it in 5 minutes to my stop; I had by this point gone around the course a few times and knew the exact route I needed to take. I cruised past the stop, hopped off the bike at the last instant before the stairs, shouldered it and ran 2 steps at a time. I jumped onto the saddle as soon as it hit the street and took off, tucking low and sprinting in the saddle.

I negotiated my way through the mess of hairpin switchbacks, sprinting out of each one only to slow down to a crawl at the next turn. The crowd at the corner had grown and gotten loud, which was awesome. I pulled into the starting parking lot and bypassed the left side stops and shot straight for the shortcut before the start/stop. I swung around and did a seated sprint to round out to the stop. I dumped the bike and ran to the drop off, unbuckling my bag and pulling out the package. By this point I had tangled up my strap in the quick release and it wouldn’t release all the way. When I first noticed it I figured I would cope and fix it after I got done racing. I handed the package in and felt a wave of relief and tension as they marked 5 minutes down on my tag. I had just made it. By this point I had stopped caring what condition the final tags where in and threw the new one in with the rest while pawing through the remaining few to find the next closest stop.

The last 3 or 4 stops went by quickly and I felt exhilarated as I pounded down the final stretch to the end point. I leaned my bike against the fence and ran to the check in point at which time some minor confusion ensued as first I went to the wrong portion of the table. I moved over to the first part were a woman was sitting and handed her my stuff, she motioned towards the staplers in front of us and the first woman I tried to turn my stuff into told me to staple my tags together. Apparently the second woman was just there to make sure people know how to use a stapler, because she didn’t received the tags. I tried to smooth them out as best as possible, stamped it once, thought for a second to double check they were all there, decided against it and put them in the sleeve. I then moved back to woman one while doing this and she took the sleeve and noted my time down in her log. Just over 1 hour complete, all tags delivered on time. I was relieved and tired. I had pushed myself pretty hard but felt satisfied with my results, even if I had made two mistakes; the first of which was taking the wrong route the first time through the 2nd parking lot and the second mistake was petty much that same route, but this time I didn’t take it when I should have. At that point I made a minor adjustment to my routing to try and make up for it the best I could. That stop luckily was a 30 minute one so there was no fear of burning that tag. I left the area, hopped on my bike and rode to the convenience store and the corner to join everyone else in cheering on the rest of the racers.

In a normal situation I would have purchased a beer along with my water and food, but now that the race was finished I reverted somewhat to feeling like garbage from partying the night before. When I arrived at the corner things were starting to heat up and the crowd would go wild every time someone skidded into the turn or wiped out. I mingled through out the race course, talking with a few people and meeting up with the messengers from Amsterdam and found out neither of them raced, they just weren’t feeling it. They also reminded me that they were staying in Japan for another month to do a bike tour around the country.

The rest of the day’s events will come in the next posting.

2010 NACCC's

After a month of trying to find out where the 2010 North American Cycle Courier Championship (NACCC) will be held I was finally privy to it via a post online by one of the Chicago messengers. The initial idea was that it was either going to be in Atlanta or Austin, either one being a viable option (although I was more open to Atlanta because it just 'seems' closer).

Well, after checking out the website not only do I now know it is going to be in Atlanta, I also know it is going to be October 8th through the 11th. Aside from that there is no information, which is understandable as this is almost a year away. I have a sinking suspicion that they are going to incorporate some track racing as well since the Dick Lane Velodrome is located in Atlanta. Looks like it's time to start planning logistically for a trip to Atlanta!!

The website can be found here, but offers little information at the present time and probably won't be more updated until the event approaches.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

CMWC Tokyo Part 3

Monday I woke up early, ate a big bowl of cereal and took off for Tokyo. The plan was to head to registration and meet up with people who were going for a group ride to a park where there was going to be a bunch of trick riding. One thing that I was confused about with the event schedule in Tokyo was that there wasn’t any official trick event sent up. Japan was full of fixed tricksters, it seemed at times it was the center (in terms of popularity) of tricking, yet there were no official events or competition. So it was cool to find out there was something loosely organized going on. I took the train back into Tokyo, got off at Shinjuku Station and ended up walking half way around it to find my bike. Once I found it I hoped on and took off in what I hoped was the general direction I needed to go. I used the train line as a sort of guide to get back to Shibuya.

About a mile of so on the road I spotted a group of riders, I yelled to them to find out where they were going and they said Open Forum. I figured what the hell, someone there might know where to go to get to the trick event, and this would be an interesting opportunity. Open Forum was where people who cared got together to discuss the past year worth of events in the messenger world. They discussed issues that had developed ways to combat problems and also plans for 2010 and 2011 CMWC. I figured at least if I followed these people I would be somewhere that was remotely related to where I wanted to end up. I also knew at some point I would have to bike across the city to check into the hostel I was staying at as that night was night 1 of 2 that I was supposed to be there. Check in was after 2 so I had time to waste.

It ended up that the group of riders I found were from Chicago. I recognized a few of them from previous events but didn’t really no anyone. I just rode along and enjoyed the ride as one of them, Nico, lead the way. We got lost slightly, but found the spot for the meeting relatively easily. It was hidden in a residential neighborhood just east of Yoyogi Park, which is in between Shinjuku and Shibuya. Nico did a pretty good job of getting us there; even with the messed up Japanese address system. No wonder, as I discovered after returning home, he took first male at NACCC’s in Boston this year, beating all of the native Bostonians in their own town, coming in just behind other Chicagoan Tina, who was also in the group to Open Forum. So here I was unknowingly following the two fastest couriers in America…pretty cool.

We ended up being some of the first people there and the first non-event organizers. The room for the meeting was on the fourth floor and instead of waiting for the ancient elevator to take us there we started up the stairs. Coming out on the correct floor we had to take our shoes off and were directed into a large tatami mat covered room…very cool. Upon entering the room we were each handed a pillow to sit on. I followed Vernon, who I had initially met at the Cog Party two nights previously, and sat up against the back wall. As everyone milled about taking in the building and the view from the balcony more people began to trickle in slowly. At around 10:30 someone came in and told everyone that the meeting would be delayed for a while since some people were still at registration and waiting to ride to the meeting. By this point the room was about half full of couriers from all over the world, including a group of ruckus Australians. I took the opportunity to go in search of some lunch and left the building. I pulled my bike out of the pile of bikes that had accumulated since we first arrived and headed further up the hill that the building was on only to find myself heading back down it.

I pulled out onto a main road but stuck with the sidewalk. I chose one direction at random and rode, running into Nico and another guy on foot that were in search of a convenience store as well. I continued on and decided a mile or so later after not running into anything, which is incredibly odd, to turn back and tell them to head the other way. I cruised back down the sidewalk but didn’t run into them. A few blocks past the road I turned off of to get on the main stretch in the opposite direction I spotted a busy commercial district next to a train station below the bridge I was crossing. At the end of the bridge I hoped off the bike, shouldered it and jogged down the stairs to get to the lower street. I jumped on it and rode half a block before jumping of again when I found a 7-11. Parking the bike in front I went in and grabbed a supersized soba dish and some water. I already had two cans of beer in my bag left over from a 6-pack I had at Kijana’s. As I left the store one of the Chicago guys, known as Dump Truck, came into the store. I packed up my bag, hoped on the bike and headed back to the meeting.

More people had showed up in my absence but the meeting hadn’t started. I sat down and carefully ate my lunch, not wanting to spill any on the tatami. Once noon hit I popped open one of my beers, figured it was safe since it wasn’t morning anymore. The Australians had gotten pretty energetic and one of them had an entertaining conversation with a girl from California about the usage of the word ‘cunt’ and how the Australians use it in a generally friendly manner. I soon discovered the reason for the large group of Chicago messengers as Augie from said town began handing out information in regards to their bid to get the 2011 CMWC’s. In 2008 they had hosted a very successful NACCC’s and were ready to party again. The other towns that were bidding were Warsaw and Amsterdam. The consensus with the Chicago crowd was that if they didn’t get it they would love to see Warsaw get it, because when would anyone actually go there? There thinking was people will go to Amsterdam because it’s Amsterdam, but most people wouldn’t think of vacationing in Warsaw.

The meeting soon started and the house was packed. Only two members of the IFBMA (International Federation of Bike Messenger Associations) had shown up in Tokyo and from their attitude were beaten up. The board members work for one year and are chosen/selected during the 2nd Open Forum, which takes place at the end of CMWC. Apparently there had been some issues with some of the current members and the two who went to Tokyo tried their best to get the anger directed away from them. Once that was over the representatives for the 2010 CMWC’s In Guatemala went over the details they had for that event. While it would be cool, it’s being stretched over a 2 week period and is up in the mountains in a very small town. I don’t want to be away from home that long or have to acclimate to the higher altitude, let alone the idea that the Guatemalan government is provided an armed security detail for the racers…Guatemala is a little unstable. But my safety actually doesn’t bother me; it’s the time away and the altitude…so I will not be going to that one. My hopes were on Chicago getting them for 2011, because that’s soooo much easier to get to.

After Guatemala was gone over the floor was open to bids for 2011, Chicago pled their case followed by Warsaw. Once they were done the call for Amsterdam to make their bid was sent out…and no one answered. Apparently Amsterdam had failed to show up to put in their bid. They decided to take a break for a while and convene with more agenda items like discussing what happened at the Boston NACCC’s. I found out later that the NACCC this year was not sanctioned by the IFBMA (which seems a bit weird for there to be authorization by this semi-governing body with a group of people who are all about individualization) but then again, there needs to be a bit of cohesion involved. I found out when I returned home and talked with Eric from Cog about the event what happened;

Right before the event was to take place the City of Boston reneged on the space they were allowing the organizers to use for the race and pretty much told them to get bent. So faced with no space and a bunch of people on their way to race they decided to make the main race (no qualifying round) a real life simulation event open only to messengers and ex-messengers. Racers had 5 hours to complete as many manifests as they could out in the open roads of Boston. A lot of people felt this was unfair as the locals would have a better chance at winning the event due to their familiarity of the city. That all ended up being wrong when the first two spots were taken by Tina and Nico from Chicago. From what Eric told me and from people who went Boston’s NACCC it was an excellent event that truly simulated the courier’s job.

I decided it was time to strike out and get checked in to the youth hostel. I left the Forum and hoped on my bike, trying best as I could to navigate my way to the eastern area of Tokyo known as Akihabara. I headed out towards what I figured was Shinjuku only to be reaffirmed by that when I found the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building(s). I chose what I figured was the correct general direction of East; it was hard to tell since the sky was overcast, and headed out. After a while I spotted a sign letting me know which neighborhood I was in, it said Nakano. I thought, cool I was headed in the right direction as this was the neighborhood east of Shinjuku. I kept going, enjoying the ride, blowing past traffic as they got stalled at intersections I was able to pull through safely.

I rode on for a got 15 or 20 minutes, keeping my eye on the signs that listed the neighborhood (thankfully I understood the characters for Nakano) when it dawned on me I was thinking of the wrong neighborhood. Nakano was west of Shinjuku, the one I was thinking of was Yotsuya…don’t ask me how I confused the two, the Japanese for both aren’t even related. Nakano literally translated into Middle Field and Yotsuya translates into Fourth…something or other, the character looks like a house and is the same ‘ya’ that’s in Shibuya. So anyways…I stopped, a bit disturbed by my mistake, turned around and headed back the other way down the road I had been flying down for quite a while. Two things made me push it even faster backtracking, the first was the fact that I had already traveled a few miles in the wrong damn direction, the other was the noticeable decline in the road, that I hadn’t quite noticed as I was going the other way and heading steadily higher. This fact continued to confuse me in the texture of the roads in Tokyo and their effect on your wheels. It seemed that they aided significantly when going down any form of decline, but didn’t really affect you when going up an incline…it is bizarre.

At some point in my backtrack I turned off of the road I followed out of Shinjuku, following street signs that point you in the general direction of various sections of the city, mostly ones that are nearby. The problem, which I didn’t discover until later, is that these signs are a bit ambiguous in their direction. So I took the direction that would supposedly lead me to Yotsuya and the neighborhood of Iidabashi which is more easterly of Shinjuku. And I kept biking and biking and enjoying every moment of it. Occasionally I would turn off, following the ambiguous directional signs…never to actually ride through Yotsuya or Iidabashi. After quite some time on the bike, maybe an hour or so, I noticed a sign that had me worried. It said that I was headed towards the neighborhood of Ueno, which is north of my ultimate destination. Not to far from that first sign I stopped next to a subway station and pulled out the best map I had, which detailed the train and subway lines, and tried to get a rough idea of where I was, as the line maps just show general direction…or better yet layout of the line its self, in nice geometrical pathways that don’t conform the actual thing. Luckily the subway map shows then entire subway line so I can get a rough estimation of the location of a specific station. Upon looking at the map I noticed that yes, I had somehow gone north east and had been slowly skirting the northern end of the Tokyo proper…yay.

I entered Ueno, passing by Ueno Park and at least knew I was getting closer to my destination, but I had never gone directly from Ueno to Akihabara any way other than train so was only mildly sure of the direction I needed to head in. I continued on, only partially irritated for being lost but still thoroughly enjoying biking through out Tokyo. After another 15 minutes or so of aimlessly riding in the general direction I got into Akihabara. I skirted the south end of the famed electric district and crossed the river just south of the train station. I knew I was incredibly close to my destination. The night before I had looked at a rough map of the area online and remembered that I had to cross the river and it would be near by. I pressed on, trying to keep my eyes out for anything that might help me locate at least the train station I was looking for from the directions to the hostel. After a while of wandering I saw a sign that talked pointed me towards Ginza, which I knew was taking me too far south, frustrated I pulled over after coming across a subway station. I located the station in my map book and realized that I was south of where I needed to be. I picked the direction I thought I needed to go and took off, now getting irritated. Another 10 minutes or so I came across another subway station only to find I had headed in the wrong direction, I was further south now. I turned around and headed back the way I came and when I neared the last station I turned down a different direction only to wander around for another 10 or 15 minutes before stumbling upon the train station I needed.

In only partial relief I pulled out the walking directions to the hostel leading from the station and biked them. I had to cross a river and from there the 2nd block would lead me to the hostel. What was confusing is that the intersection after the river had more than 2 roads converging so I had to decipher what 2 blocks actually represented. I figured it had to be off of the main road and began to slowly bike down a side street. The thing with Tokyo is that there aren’t really any alleys. Just smaller roads behind the big roads with smaller ones behind them, but there really aren’t alleys. I wandered through a few of the side streets, cutting back and forth, searching for the building. I back tracked to the bridge and did it all over again to suddenly find the building, which was somewhat non-descript if you weren’t looked directly at it, even though it was checkered black and white. A wave of relief flooded over me and I parked the bike and went to check in, having to take my shoes off before entering.

I checked in and told one of the reception girls about my misadventures over the past 2 and a half hours, much to her amazement. I asked her if she knew the best way to get to Ginza, which was a little south of our current location, and she blanked on me, gave me a map as a present and wished me luck. I went to my bunk, stashed most of my baggage and proceeded to leave for Ginza for some shopping and dinner. Even though I had biked countless miles around northern Tokyo I wasn’t hungry, just thirsty. I knew I should eat, but I wasn’t concerned with it. I was leaving the hostel when I ran into a messenger who was also staying at the hostel and we chatted long enough for me to find out he was one of three messengers from Amsterdam. I told him that the people at Open Forum were looking for them and he got concerned when he said that his two friends had gone to it and I told them I didn’t see them. We exchanged a few more words and I took off for Ginza.

I decided that the best course of action would be to head to the nearest train station that dealt with the Yamanote line. From there as long as I followed the train line south I would end up in the heart of Ginza. I pinpointed the nearest one on my map; eye balled the route and took off, with map in pocket. I was more confident that I would get around better with the map. It wasn’t the brightest move to wander around Tokyo without one, but I fared pretty well, especially without asking for help from anyone, and a few times I really contemplated it. But I chose not too because my Japanese skills aren’t that hot and most people can’t or don’t like to speak English, making it difficult at times to get things accomplished that way. I took off with renewed energy, even after riding all those miles. I had to remind myself to take it easy since I didn’t want to burn out before the next days qualifying round.

I easily found the train station I pinpointed and was easily able to follow the trains’ course as a series of small streets ran along it, featuring an array of restaurants, shops and odd vendors. Following these tucked away roads seemed to put me in a Tokyo that you don’t see if you stick to the main paths. Pakistani restaurants next to small pachinko halls and old family run liquor stores, the ‘seedy’ side of Tokyo, life under the tracks. People actually seemed surprised by my presence as I buzzed by, with my solitary goal in mind.

The side roads ended before I hit Ginza, but luckily the terminated just north of Tokyo station. I knew how to get to Ginza from there and no longer had to ‘feel’ my way. This did present a new challenge to me in the form of a large open roadway that didn’t really adhere to any sort of demarked guidelines. I suddenly found myself in the middle of a large roundabout with lots of taxi’s and other cars not really doing anything. I had a red, checked all around to see who had the green, didn’t spot anything, checked again for hidden traffic and decided it was physically, if not legally, safe for me to continue on my marry way. I followed the course past the station and into more open road spaces that were somewhat disorientating, continuously on the watch for errant taxis and buses, but never finding any. By the time I got back to what resembled a main road, traffic had finally caught up to me as apparently the speed limits in this stretch of road were pretty high.

Wanting to maintain my course I pulled into the left drive lane, the one furthest from the curb, and forced traffic to cope with my reduced speed and pulled under a freeway to find myself right in the heart of Ginza train line to my right and the first truly recognizable section of town I had been in all day. With glee from my amazing luck I pulled out into the incredibly busy street that cuts through Ginza heading from the Imperial Palace all the way to the bay and turned again down a small street just west of the train lines. I was on a mission to find the first restaurant I had ever eaten at in Japan that was located under the tracks, an Italian bistro named Bravo and to my mild surprise I found it was still there 10 years after the last time I had eaten there. I happily locked my bike up to a pole across the street from it, with a few pedestrians looking at me strangely and started to head into the establishment…then I realized how I was dressed.

I was sweaty; I had been biking around Tokyo all day. I stunk, see previous sentence. I wasn’t really in the best condition to step foot in a white table cloth restaurant in the most expensive shopping district in Tokyo, if not the world. I hesitated, looked inside the restaurant and decided against revisiting the past when I saw the place packed with sensibly dressed women. I would pass on offending them with my presence and appearance. Instead I turned into the restaurant next door to it, which I have eaten at before and sat down for a meal of conveyor belt sushi. Once I had my fill of shrimp, tea and rice I left the restaurant and decided to hit up a large toy store I knew about in Ginza. I took off down the main drag, headed east; pondering which of the streets I needed to turn down to get to the store.

A few blocks away I hit Ginza’s large pedestrian intersection, right as the pedestrian only light turned green. I chanced it and power through as quickly as I could; trying to get through before the runners/speed walkers impeded my path. I made it out mostly unscathed, having to only swerve around a few people. The next red light I hit a few blocks later I ran into 2 young Japanese kids with fixed gears. I greeted them and they started speaking English to me. They asked were I was headed and when I told them they told me they thought the store I was looking for was down the street we were stopped at. I thanked him for the help and turned left down that street before traffic got the green light. As I did I realized that the street was swamped with foot traffic. There were tables set up in the middle of the road and the police had cordoned off the street from cars. People wandered everywhere talking, shopping, grazing and photographing. I traveled a few blocks south and found the end of the cordoned off area and the toy store. Just as I stopped and was going to take some photos of the street to show the crowds the police started to take down the southern barrier and warn people that traffic would once more be flowing through the road. I parked my bike, bought a juice and headed into the toy store to find gifts.

After leaving with a package the size of my bag I loaded it up and headed back for the youth hostel. Retracing the roads I had taken to get there I easily got back into the hostels neighborhood. On the way I ran into 3 messengers headed south. I shouted out to them to see what they were doing, always on the look out for an alley cat and was disappointed to find they were headed back to their own hostel. I carried on only finding that when I got to the river near mine I couldn’t find the hostel. In frustration I retraced and retraced my steps from the river, remembered in the police box next to it and everything, only to come up empty. After a few times doing this I decided to stop and ask for help at the police station. Through my broken Japanese, their broken English and both our maps I realized I was at the wrong street to begin with. I found my way to the correct bridge and correct police box and easily found the youth hostel. I parked my bike around the back of the hostel which was actually to a guard rail running along a larger road.

The Dutch messenger I met earlier was out front with one of the other Dutch messengers and we chatted for a minute. I dropped my stuff in my room and went back outside to relax and drink. I biked down the street to a convenience store, bought a few cans of Chu-hi and went back and sat down next to the Dutch messengers and began chatting more. They left after a bit to get supper and I sat, nursing my beverages. At one point a man wandered around the corner and headed to the nearby vending machine. Let’s just say the man was obviously Yakuza (Japanese mafia) and if I would have been thinking I would have taken a photo of me, but I was too tired and to relaxed to want to risk dealing with pissing off one of the local gangsters. Eventually, maybe an hour of sitting and doing nothing all 2 ditch messengers arrived and we all started to drink, heavily. As the night progresses we moved into the basement of the hostel to continue drinking, with one of us running to the convenience store nearby to buy yet another 4 pack, as we chatted about anything and everything in the hostels renovated chill space. I ended up turning in to bed about 1:30 in the morning after having consumed an unknown number of beer cans and a few Chu-hi to the thoughts that I drank too damn much the night before qualifying…then again it wouldn’t be a true messenger event with out the detrimental effects of alcohol.

Friday, October 16, 2009

TKBMA fundraiser

So, with my move to do more major alley cats starting in 2010, I have to sadden myself and not plan to go to Chicago Halloween weekend and participate in their 2 day Halloween race(s). Next years event will hopefully be in the picture. But upon stumbling on this event, as these things tend to hide if you don't know where to look or who to ask, I also found the website about the global effort to help TKBMA (the people responsible for the CMWC last month in Tokyo) to get out from under their substantial debt that racked up from throwing the event, which is being called the best CMWC ever by people. So the website is here and Chicago is kicking everyones ass, so it is also unfortunate that I have been unable to support the cause by participating in the first race they through to raise cash a few weeks ago and the upcoming Halloween. Oh well, more opportunities will present themselves and I'll just add Chicago's insane Halloween race to the list for next year.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

CMWC Tokyo Part 2

Sunday brought the night of the opening party and a trip with Kijana into the hills near his house. We headed out to a nearby park/river, with Kijana still hugging the sidewalk and me navigating the street, getting directions from him as to where to go. I had everything under control with riding on the opposite side of the road with the exception of making right hand turns. After cutting off a few cars and running a red light we made it to a paved multi-use pathway that ran along the river. The path was pretty similar to the ones I’m used to in Milwaukee with the exception of barriers set up every couple of blocks to prevent either cars from getting to far if they choose to try and get onto the pathway or from people doing time trials. I wanted to get some speed my self and was annoyed at having to slow down repeatedly to navigate between metal barriers, sometimes having to go off-road to pass them. Eventually we made it to the end of the line and locked our bikes up to the guard rail at the base of the hill. We then proceeded to get lost for about an hour wandering the mountain trails and finding a gold course among other oddities. The view was pretty cool and we debated the problems with Japanese and American educational systems while watching a group of school kids play soccer down at the base of the hill.

After the hill excursion and my incredibly sore legs (we ended up running from the Cog Party the night before to the train station to make sure we caught the train we needed…I don’t run and we did about a kilometer) I was ready to get back to Tokyo with my bike and work out the muscles with the kind of use they enjoyed and were used to. After a hearty protein fueled lunch of buffalo burgers I disassembled the bike, wrapped it in a bed sheet and walked to the train back to Shinjuku. Kijana wanted to get stuff done at his house so I was solo, which was fine by me because I was itching to hit the streets of Tokyo. The train ride was long and boring and everyone pretty much ignored me and my odd shaped package. At Shinjuku station I climbed out into the city, unwrapped the bike and began reassembling it on the sidewalk, to curious stares. They have an understandable, but quite annoying policy in Japan while traveling via train with a bike. You have to remove both wheels and turn your bars and cover the entire thing up. Preferably you put your bike in a bag they have designed for this purpose called a rinko bag, but I didn’t feel like spending the $50 minimum for one and went for the bed sheet route. Once the bike was assembled, checked over and the sheet was in my bag I took off, with a vague sense of direction.

I wasn’t able to get out to the street right away and had to slowly navigate the sidewalk for a block or so, dodging the throngs of pedestrians and finally getting forced off of my bike to navigate the busy intersection. Once I was on the actual road I was able to hop back on and take off, in what I felt was the appropriate direction. I used the train line as a guide and headed southward, towards the neighborhood of Shibuya. Soon enough I found myself on the same road we had traveled on Saturday on our way to the registration office, which was perfect, since I would be able to find my way back easily. I was headed there to find out how to get to the club that the party was in and throw down some Goldsprint action. Rolling through the streets of Tokyo I noticed right away how free of blemishes the asphalt was. There was also a substantial lack of debris in the road as well. Being unfamiliar with the area and the large volume of traffic I played it cautious and didn’t gawk too much at my surroundings.

As I neared Shibuya station I got caught at a red light, wanting to take the chance to get everything in, gather my bearings and not tempt fate by trying to weave through the heavy cross traffic I sat at the line and waited. Right before the light turned green I noticed another cyclist out of the corner of my eye weaving through traffic. Said cyclist called out to me and asked if I spoke English, when I said I did he seemed incredibly relieved. He introduced himself as Jerome from Montreal and he followed me to registration. We chatted a little about Tokyo on our way there and he explained that he had come up with the same plan I had on how to get to the party, he just couldn’t remember how to get to registration. Jerome was in town not to race but to network with people, an exhibit of his work at a friend’s studio and mostly to photograph the race and the city. Jerome is an ex-messenger turned professional photographer who lives on his bike. We arrived at the place and there was a good amount of people there hanging out and drinking. Jerome free locked his bike and I told him I’d keep an eye on it. He wanted to run into the building and take care of some things.

I ended up hanging out at the registration building for a while after I decided I would just wait for Jerome and we would head over to the club together. I got a few beers from the 7-11 next doors and just observed everyone around me. A constant flow of people came back and forth, half foreigners. As the locals came through the tight packed streets and saw all the bikes and curious looking gaijin I wondered what they were thinking by what they were taking in. There was a really good chance that this space didn’t usually see messenger activity, especially not in the volume it was currently witnessing. I have discovered that many spaces in Tokyo tend to change what they do pretty frequently, especially in terms of bars, clubs and restaurants. There seems to be an ever revolving door of establishments everywhere in the metropolis. It was very likely that this space is normally used for events or business not even remotely relating to the throng of bike nuts it was hosting now. Aside from the messenger bases and a few spots throughout the city there appeared to be few permanent messenger hang outs that existed, everyone just kind of flowed through the city like the flow through traffic…like water, going where they needed to and where the road took them at that particular time.

By the time Jerome was ready to roll he had been grabbing as many people, myself included, to do portrait shots of out in the street and in the stairwell of the registration building, it was night time (dusk was around 6pm). I had been hearing rumors that the party was pretty much done, the Goldsprints were finished and the club was filled with a bunch of drunks, regardless we chose to head out there anyways. Jerome wanted to gather a huge group of people to ride to his nearby gallery space after things were said and done with the club. We took off on our own and Jerome pulled out his camera to take shots while we rode there. After pulling down one street, deciding that was the wrong one and continuing on down the road we ended up getting pretty far off course. We pulled down another street and turned back around a few blocks later and decided to stop at a bike shop we passed to get help. At the shop were 3 Americans who were a bit lost as well. The shop was a welcomed aid station for Jerome who was running extremely low pressure on his front wheel. While he pumped it up, other foreigners and I talked as best as we could with the owners of the shop and ogled the rows of frames dangling from the ceiling and the shiny components. The shop was called Sexon Super Peace and the people who ran it were pretty nice, stickers and flyers were exchanged between some of us and one of the other Americans started talking about how he had just ordered a frame from Eighth Inch the previous week and was excited to get it. Score for the ‘sponsor’. People had been commenting bike a fair amount in the few short hours it had been in Tokyo, especially the classic track drop handlebars. The three Americans took off ahead of us on their way to find the club too. They had been there previously and were trying to find it again. Jerome and I took off again and got lost, yet again. We pulled up to a restaurant and stopped, debating about asking them for directions as the club is semi known. I looked in on the crowd of respectable businessmen and faltered. Jerome said he would do it if I was nervous and that settled it, I told him I’d do it and I went in, helmet and all.

I smiled and greeted the first staffer I ran into as the entire establishment stared at me; then again I can’t blame them. You would stare too if you were a suit wearing salaryman enjoying a late evening dinner with some coworkers (it was Sunday though, so what’s with all the suits?) and a large, pierced and tattooed foreigner sporting a hairnet helmet and a large messenger bag with the words ‘Dead Kennedys’ blazoned across it came in off of the street and started asking the waiter directions to an unsavory hip hop club. The waiter quickly had me wait outside while he found a coworker with good English to explain how to get there. I stepped outside and smiled at Jerome and said they politely kicked me out while they got me the directions. As we waited two messengers from Australia showed up too, lost as well, and decided to stick with us as I got some vague directions to the club with the guy discreetly telling me that Love Hotels were near it. With some sense that we had to go back the way we came all four of us took off. We came back to the first street we turned off of and headed back the way we had come, as we rolled down the street we ran into the three guys we had come across at the bike shop, this time they were on foot and they yelled at us to follow them as they had found it. We all hopped off of our bikes and got on the sidewalk. We turned left onto the side street Jerome and I had originally turned on and I said must not have been the right one. We went down the street about 2 or so blocks and saw the club and the Love Hotels across the street from it…yeah it was hard to miss this place once you found it.

The street was flooded with bikes and I went to find a place to lock mine but a Japanese man told me to head further down and lock it at the club. Messengers were spilling out of the parking lot next to the club out onto the street and a large white man was yelling at them to get back into the parking lot. This large white man wan an American expat named Eli who had been living and working as a messenger for around 5 years. He was incredibly drunk and incredibly happy to have all of the people in front of him in his second home. Jerome knew Eli from previously and talked to him about helping inform people about his exhibit and the idea of a group ride to it when things closed down at the club, which was scheduled to happen around 8pm. I introduced myself to Eli as he had given me some electronic assistance with some questions I had earlier. I looked at the piles of bikes and locked mine as best I could then headed into the club.

I could understand why everyone was standing out in the alley as opposed to being in the club, there wasn’t much to interest many of them in the club once the Goldsprints were finished, the music was loud and the beer was expensive. So instead the majority chose to hangout outside where they could drink cheap beer and network, as that was one important thing many people came to these events for. I stuck around the club for a few minutes before tiring of it as well and wanting to connect with Kevin again, just to touch base with Milwaukee. Kevin was incredibly busy with being the sole Cog representative in Tokyo and I just wanted to let him know that I hadn’t died and was getting around, for what ever that would amount to. I felt better doing that. I asked Eli where the closest convenience store was and headed off in that direction to find another large group of messengers and a slightly smaller locked pile of bikes. Out front of the store I found some of the guys I met the previous night at the Cog party who were from Chicago, including ex-Milwaukeean Drew. I got a beer and a rice ball and chatted a little with the Chicago guys. Pretty soon Jerome showed up and I introduced him to Kevin as he knew the other two members of Cog, I figured it was a nice thing to do.

Soon though, I headed back to the clubs parking lot as things were beginning to wind down. Eli was still yelling happily at everyone to get out of the street and that they would soon be taking off for a group ride to Hibiya Park, which from there they would ride to the camp ground and Jerome’s gallery showing. I climbed over the increased pile of bike to get mine unlocked, not wanting to damage anyone’s ride and pulled it out onto the street. I walked back down to the convenience store, got some more beer and waited for the ride to start. I rode with the American I had run into at Sexon who had purchased the Eighth Inch frame and a small group of us took off to the Park. The guy leading the ride to the park was an American bike polo player who apparently had a great understanding of Tokyo’s streets; he had been there before to ride.

From the club we rode through Shibuya crossing right in the middle of pedestrian insanity. As we weaved in and out of the throng of humanity the guy riding next to me accidentally clocked a woman in the head with the helmet he had strapped to the side of his bag. Not having enough time or safety to check if she was still standing we continued on. I kept shouting out warnings in Japanese and as I weaved between two young women they smiled with delight at my warnings. As soon as we passed through the crowd we noticed it was really only 4 or 5 of us that were continuing on the same and apparently correct path. The rest of the crew had gotten mixed up out of the crossing and we weren’t sure which way they had headed. We rode for about 10 more minutes and turned into the park.

We came to a stop at an area skirting a small pond and since dusk had happened around 6, 8:30 looked more like midnight and felt like it too. Only a half dozen riders had showed up and in the darkness I couldn’t tell who was who. I pulled out the beer I had in my water bottle cage, chided myself for only having this one left and waited for more people to show up. Soon someone brought out a Frisbee and an entertaining game of dark/drunk Frisbee ensued. Jerome and another photographer rode around taking shots and the other guy showed him a crazy technique for shooting while on the bike. He had the camera locked between his neck and shoulder and was shooting from the side, it was crazy but apparently worked really well. As time stretched on I finished my beer and a few moe people showed up, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hang around much longer, even though I really did want to check out Jerome’s gallery showing. I needed to get to Shinjuku and catch the train back to Kijana’s house before it was too late. After a while longer and no one really showing up I decided to take off. I ran into Jerome on my way out and apologized for not being able to make it to the gallery that night and took off.

I was again off on my own in Tokyo, but this time it was the middle of the night and I only had a vague sense of the direction I was headed in. Cars gave me a respectable berth until I arrived in the heart of Shinjuku, which was surprisingly easy to get through even though I had little clue to where I was headed. Pulling into the area around Shinjuku Station was substantially busier but easier to navigate at night due to all of the lights. In a way it was easier to navigate at night than in the day due to the lights being directed towards the street and sidewalk and giving the area more contract that you can find during the day. What I had to adapt to quickly were the patterns of the taxis. Unlike taxis in America, you can truly call the cabbies in Japan professionals. I highly doubt there are any non-Japanese taxi drivers to begin with as even native residents have a hard time getting around the city due to its confusing layout and the unfriendly address system employed in Japan. Only major roads have names and the buildings are numbered by order of construction. You would be hard pressed to find a cabbie from south western Tokyo who could get you to a spot in north eastern Tokyo easily and trouble free.

The cab drivers like most ‘professionals’ in Japan are neat, clean, courteous and disciplined. They all wear white gloves and uniforms and the cabs are impeccable with little white doilies around the headrests. This and the general conservative driving habits on Japan in general leads to taxi’s that don’t go out of their way to try and turn you into their hood ornament. The thing you do need to look out for is a maneuver that resembles salmon going upstream to die/spawn. While street parking is pretty rare in Tokyo, the curb lane is a magnet for idling. So in large groups cabs and other vehicles will simultaneously merge into the curb lane to idle, for hopefully well thought out reasons. This can get a little complicated if your riding in said curb lane and all of a sudden what was once an open route becomes a jumble of cars trying to politely jokey for prime idling positions. They use their blinkers but they also hesitate and you have to guess exactly at which point they will merge over and stop and how close they will pull up to the curb. At points like these I found it was just better to ride the middle of the rode as you wouldn’t be in the way of any merging cars and traffic was usually crawling close to the train station to make it so you could easily outpace them.

Once I located the train station I stopped at a McDonalds to get a quick bite to eat as I hadn’t had anything more than rice balls and beer since lunch. I locked my bike up in front of a pachinko parlor and a middle aged guy eyed me up oddly, probably more for the fact that a foreigner was riding a bike around in Shinjuku more than anything. I went into the restaurant and got my food, which I proceeded to wolf down heartily, not realizing how hungry I was. I decided to walk the bike to park it so I could eat my food. I shoved the soda in my pocket and started eating fries directly from the container. Now in Japan there is a huge social faux pas about eating and drinking while mobile, this seems to also apply to the trains even though you’re not the one moving. So I’m sure me shoving my face into a container of French fries while walking my bike around Shinjuku didn’t help anyone with their uneasiness let alone elevate their opinions on fat Americans. Tough, I figured I’d be better off eating while on the street than on the train, at least if I finished it all before I got on the train I wouldn’t have to carry around the garbage for an hour and a half, if I was lucky enough to find a garbage can anyways. While Tokyo is incredibly clean there is a bizarre and concerning lack of waste receptacles. The best you can usually do is to find a bottle/can bin next to a vending machine, but even that is a crap shoot. Out right garbage cans are about as rare as the sushi.

So I walked and ate then locked my bike to an open spot at the ‘east’ exit and recalled advice I had received from Eli earlier in the evening. He said that 99.99% of the time no one will mess with my bike. That 0.01% would be the cops and he has never had it happen to him. I know that there are usually designated bike parking spots, but I didn’t know where one was nor did I care. The streets are lined with guard rails and they are easy to lock your bike to. On the off chance that someone would get sticky fingers I did take my lights off. Once locked to the rail I took one good last look at it, on the off chance it offended a cop and they decided to cut through my u-lock (which I doubt they would even readily have the tools to do…this isn’t New York after all) and tried my best to remember exactly which exit I was parked near. In all the times I have come through Shinjuku Station I have never really used the same exit/entrance. The place is huge and sprawling making it very difficult to traverse as a tourist. I’m sure it takes a local a few times to get the route down perfectly.

I wandered around the station until I found the some ticket machines and purchased my ticket. I ended up dropping it on the floor and as I bent to pick it up the remainder of my drink emptied its self into my cargo pocket as the cup opened up. With nothing else to do aside from pulling the mostly empty cup out and putting the ice back into it I walked until I found a lone garbage can, which was a bit of a journey resulting in a wet leg/sock/shoe. I through out my trash and tried as best as possible to sop as mush of the drink out of my pocket as I could and wipe my leg down a little bit. I don’t think anyone realized I had half a cup of Hi-C empty it’s self into my pocket then proceed to drip down my leg. There wasn’t much I could do so I coped and found my platform.

The ride back to Kijana’s was boring and uneventful as the IPod I had with me died right away and I chose to stand instead of sitting next to anyone and making them smell me after biking around all day. I arrived unscathed and crashed pretty quickly, readying myself for the next days adventures as I would return to Tokyo and stay for a few days. For now though, it was sleep after a bath and light packing for the next day.