The Tour Village is La Grande Boucle’s backstage area, an exclusive pre-race enclosure where the event’s various official comestibles vie for attention ina surfeit of sweet stickiness and beer bottles empty at a frightening rate. If your name’s not on the small plastic ID card slung around your neck, you’re not getting in.
With the sun’s rays rippling over cracked tarmac, curtailing gear (and shoe) paparazzi duties to duck into the Village promised a spot in the shade and cold fluid to lower the Tour fever.
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The gate has an entrance each for guests and riders. Passing through here after a suspicious scanning of race ID – eyes travelling incredulously to my battered straw hat – the village felt immediately calmer than the barely organised chaos of sunburnt fans screaming at every rider to pass.
Not every Village entrance is guarded both by ASO officials and creepy giants, but Seraing, in Belgium, pulled out all the stops
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