Vou ser sincero - houve vários momentos nesta viajem em que me senti bastante nojento. Varanasi, onde o calor insuportável se juntava ao chão coberto de fezes de vaca, ou em Singapura, onde a humidade de noventa por cento nos fazia a todos suar como se não houvesse amanhã durante o dia inteiro, foram tempos difíceis, mas nunca tão difíceis como o dia de hoje. Depois de um banho de balde no barco ontem à hora de almoço, sem o qual estaria coberto em sal depois do mergulho na praia deserta que mencionei no post de ontem, comecei o dia com a perfeita consciência de que não voltaria a tomar banho até chegarmos a Hoi An, ao fim da tarde.
Na verdade comecei o dia cerca de cinco minutos antes de o comboio chegar a Hué, quando o Ben me acordou a dizer que estávamos quase no nosso destino. Tive tempo para fazer as malas e sair, e só na estação consegui lavar a cara e os dentes para me sentir ligeiramente mais humano. O passe seguinte foi um excelente pequeno almoço num restaurante Francês, que por estarmos ainda meio atarantados só descobrimos à segunda tentativa - a minha baguette de queijo e fiambre veio com batatas fritas, o que às dez da manhã foi um pouco estranho mas a fome era tanta que não protestei muito.
A Cidade Imperial de Hué, construída pela Dinastia de Nguyen no século XIX para servir de capital do sul do Vietname, ocupou-nos a manhã inteira com uma miríade de palácios, templos e jardins ocupando território suficiente para precisarmos constantemente do Google Maps para saber onde estávamos. Após ser inicialmente poupada aos bombardeamentos Americanos durante a guerra, a intensificação dos combates de rua levou a que grande parte das estruturas da cidade fossem destruídas, deixando apenas 10 dos 160 edifícios originais intactos. Ainda assim, o que ficou de pé chegou para justificar as horas que passámos debaixo do sol, a adicionar mais suor ao nosso já problemático estado de asseio.
A visita ao túmulo do Imperador Minh Mang foi ligeiramente afectada pela chuva, mas ainda assim conseguimos apreciar a perfeita integração da linha de templos com a paisagem envolvente, que fez com que à chegada ao túmulo em si nos tenhamos perguntado se era mesmo ali o fim da linha. A grandiosidade do monumento está no que o rodeia, o que em comparação com sítios como o Taj Mahal ou o Túmulo de Humayun torna a experiência menos arrebatadora mas muito mais tranquila, o que para o local de descanso de um Imperador talvez faça sentido.
A viagem de carro até Hoi An foi mais trabalhosa do que estávamos à espera, uma vez que tivemos de convencer o condutor a subir as montanhas do Hai Van Pass em vez de ir pelo túnel, que apesar de ser mais rápido tira toda a piada ao percurso entre as duas cidades. Depois de alongadas discussões, através do Google Translate e de um telefonema com o chefe que nos tinha vendido o caminho pelas montanhas, o rapaz lá nos levou para onde queríamos, mesmo a tempo do pôr-do-sol. O resto do caminho não revelou o nevoeiro de que o rapaz estava com medo ou as estradas perigosas sobre as quais tínhamos lido na internet. Sendo verdade que a condução no Vietname não é tão civilizada como na Europa, é uma brincadeira comparada com a da Índia.
Depois de jantarmos numa excelente casa de hambúrgueres (apesar de ainda não estarmos fartos de comida vietnamita, a reputação do Jim’s Snackbar era boa demais para não o experimentarmos) fomos até ao centro de Hoi An, onde os famosos mercados nocturnos criam um ambiente simpático à beira do rio, projectando luzes na água até estas se apagarem, às dez da noite.
Depois de nos sentarmos num bar, ao qual inicialmente não achámos grande piada, descobrimos que o sítio ao lado tinha uma empregada com sérios problemas mentais, documentados no Google por várias pessoas com relatos de murros, pontapés e ataques de ácido (!) para com clientes. Apesar do dito bar, de nome Tiger Tiger, estar bastante concorrido, acabámos num sítio mais tranquilo com música ao vivo a beber tranquilamente uma cerveja. Depois da experiência de Hanoi achámos melhor guardarmo-nos para Saigão, sob pena de voltarmos a casa com uma cara diferente…
Beijos e abraços,
Ginete
A probably futile attempt at keeping a daily journal of a trip that will hopefully span 360 days and ideally go around the World.
The language will alternate between Portuguese and English so I do not forget how to use either...
Friday, 22 September 2017
Day 49 - Untouched
Waking up for sunrise sounded like a great idea at 8pm the night before, but I cursed myself when the alarm rang at 5.15am. Ben was already awake and realised that it was not exactly pitch black outside, meaning we had probably missed the best of it. Since we were already awake we figured we might as well check out the market, which Hùng had recommended along with the nearby temples.
When we arrived, we were surprised by how small it was, but then we remembered the island has a mere six thousand inhabitants and until 2014 did not have access to the electrical network. In the end it was a good opportunity for a bit of people-watching, and an even better opportunity to get lost on the way back, since our half-asleep selves did not remember to drop a pin before leaving the house. After a bit of walking around, being occasionally greeted by children on their way to school, we luckily ran into our house.
A quick breakfast was followed by a 12km bike ride around the island, which was scenic and thoroughly enjoyable until the heavens descended upon us in the form of torrential rain. I led the way in taking cover at a random establishment, but after everyone had a sip of herbal tea Hùng announced we should crack on as we were already wet and the rain was not going to stop. Unable to argue with such flawless logic, we moved on towards one of the most stunning yet absolutely deserted beaches I have ever seen (the rain had stopped by the time we arrived, which helped). Once again, we were amazed that we had the place to ourselves and felt confident that, in ten years’ time, it will be as busy as Halong Bay.
After boarding our boat for the last time we were treated to two more hours of incredible scenery, with the rocky formations emerging out of the water abruptly as if they had actually fallen from from the sky hundreds of years ago. I am proud to have stayed awake for about ten minutes of it, spending the remainder of the trip catching some sun and giving my eyes some much needed rest.
After everyone headed off to one more night in Halong Bay we were treated to lunch on the boat, together with the two Austrian girls who were coming back to Hanoi with us. Although I only kept the details of one of the British guys (who were extremely excited to hear Ben worked at McLaren, proving the tried and tested theory that working in F1 is the best way to pick-up straight men), it was great to get to know everyone, from the German lady who seems to have travelled half of the World in the past 24 months and hopes to get fired when she gets back home, to the Lebanese guy who did AcroYoga with his girlfriend and spoke quite a few words of my mother tongue, as he has a Portuguese friend at work, in Indonesia.
The bus back to Hanoi was as comfortable as it had been the day before, although the lack of a piercing hangover made it slightly more bearable. Nevertheless, I still wished my legs were retractable during those five hours. As on the way there, we stopped at a shopping centre filled with fake activewear offerings, overpriced snacks and carved wood furniture. While I can understand the first two, I am very curious about whether anyone has ever purchased a gigantic armchair halfway through the most uncomfortable bus trip in the World, and if so whether they managed to get their seat on said bus replaced with it. If so, I may have been interested.
As we got to the train station reasonably early we decided to grab something to eat nearby, and due to a limited range of options within walking distance we ended up in an extremely local place called Phùi Quán. Our choice of dish was fairly easy, as we stuck to two of the three options that did not include the words “frog” or “pigeon” on the English description. Even so, my choice featured an unspecified “minced meat” which, although it did appear to be meat, was definitely not minced. After congratulating ourselves with the fact that the beer was only 20,000 Dong (I know, we also giggle every time the local currency is mentioned) we realised it was only available at room temperature and hen we asked for “cold”, we were brought an ice bucket. While the real test of Phùi Quán will be this train journey from Hanoi to Hué, which will hopefully not be spent relieving our stomachs from their contents, it already stands as the most bizarre culinary experience of our stay in Vietnam so far, which has otherwise been full of revelations. After only three days, Ben and I have decided that deep fried spring rolls are the Vietnamese version of India’s Masala Chai and will struggle not to order some whenever they are available...
Cheers,
J-Wowww
When we arrived, we were surprised by how small it was, but then we remembered the island has a mere six thousand inhabitants and until 2014 did not have access to the electrical network. In the end it was a good opportunity for a bit of people-watching, and an even better opportunity to get lost on the way back, since our half-asleep selves did not remember to drop a pin before leaving the house. After a bit of walking around, being occasionally greeted by children on their way to school, we luckily ran into our house.
A quick breakfast was followed by a 12km bike ride around the island, which was scenic and thoroughly enjoyable until the heavens descended upon us in the form of torrential rain. I led the way in taking cover at a random establishment, but after everyone had a sip of herbal tea Hùng announced we should crack on as we were already wet and the rain was not going to stop. Unable to argue with such flawless logic, we moved on towards one of the most stunning yet absolutely deserted beaches I have ever seen (the rain had stopped by the time we arrived, which helped). Once again, we were amazed that we had the place to ourselves and felt confident that, in ten years’ time, it will be as busy as Halong Bay.
After boarding our boat for the last time we were treated to two more hours of incredible scenery, with the rocky formations emerging out of the water abruptly as if they had actually fallen from from the sky hundreds of years ago. I am proud to have stayed awake for about ten minutes of it, spending the remainder of the trip catching some sun and giving my eyes some much needed rest.
After everyone headed off to one more night in Halong Bay we were treated to lunch on the boat, together with the two Austrian girls who were coming back to Hanoi with us. Although I only kept the details of one of the British guys (who were extremely excited to hear Ben worked at McLaren, proving the tried and tested theory that working in F1 is the best way to pick-up straight men), it was great to get to know everyone, from the German lady who seems to have travelled half of the World in the past 24 months and hopes to get fired when she gets back home, to the Lebanese guy who did AcroYoga with his girlfriend and spoke quite a few words of my mother tongue, as he has a Portuguese friend at work, in Indonesia.
The bus back to Hanoi was as comfortable as it had been the day before, although the lack of a piercing hangover made it slightly more bearable. Nevertheless, I still wished my legs were retractable during those five hours. As on the way there, we stopped at a shopping centre filled with fake activewear offerings, overpriced snacks and carved wood furniture. While I can understand the first two, I am very curious about whether anyone has ever purchased a gigantic armchair halfway through the most uncomfortable bus trip in the World, and if so whether they managed to get their seat on said bus replaced with it. If so, I may have been interested.
As we got to the train station reasonably early we decided to grab something to eat nearby, and due to a limited range of options within walking distance we ended up in an extremely local place called Phùi Quán. Our choice of dish was fairly easy, as we stuck to two of the three options that did not include the words “frog” or “pigeon” on the English description. Even so, my choice featured an unspecified “minced meat” which, although it did appear to be meat, was definitely not minced. After congratulating ourselves with the fact that the beer was only 20,000 Dong (I know, we also giggle every time the local currency is mentioned) we realised it was only available at room temperature and hen we asked for “cold”, we were brought an ice bucket. While the real test of Phùi Quán will be this train journey from Hanoi to Hué, which will hopefully not be spent relieving our stomachs from their contents, it already stands as the most bizarre culinary experience of our stay in Vietnam so far, which has otherwise been full of revelations. After only three days, Ben and I have decided that deep fried spring rolls are the Vietnamese version of India’s Masala Chai and will struggle not to order some whenever they are available...
Cheers,
J-Wowww
Thursday, 21 September 2017
Dia 48 - Dragões
Um conselho de amigo - se tiverem uma viagem de quatro horas de autocarro até um barco no qual vão passar as próximas quarenta e oito, não passem a noite anterior a beber Whiskys de euro e meio em discotecas Hanioanas de ar duvidoso. A viagem de autocarro será dolorosa, especialmente se os senhores se lembrarem de manter o ar condicionado no mínimo quando estão trinta e cinco graus lá fora e o espaço entre bancos for desenhado para uma espécie alternativa de seres humanos que não possuem membros inferiores mas sim o poder da flutuação. Depois não digam que não foram avisados.
À chegada a Bai Tu Long Bay conhecemos os nossos companheiros de viagem, provenientes dos mais variados sítios, desde o Líbano à Indonésia, passando por nações mais familiares como o Reino Unido ou a Alemanha. Hùng, o nosso guia, explicou-nos o significado do nome da baía (traduzindo literalmente, "cem dragões bébés") com a lenda da dragão mãe chamada pelo Imperador para combater os invasores que, após aterrar em Halong Bay e dar uma tareia aos maus, deixou para trás cem ovos ates de subir aos céus. As resultantes crias ficaram então representadas pelas famosas formações rochosas, que tornam esta paisagem única no Mundo. Como tínhamos a bordo um casal praticante de AcroYoga (que não sabia que era uma coisa até hoje) a dita paisagem tornou-se ainda mais única com a adição de uma catraia a fazer de super-homem.
Sem termos visitado Halong Bay para podermos comparar as duas, tanto o Ben como eu ficámos satisfeitos com a nossa decisão, não só porque passámos a tarde a olhar especados para o que nos rodeava mas também por termos a baía basicamente só para nós. O passeio de canoa teve a sua piada, apesar de termos demorado bastante tempo a dominar a técnica necessária para mantermos a trajectória pretendida, levando a vários quase-acidentes que foram evitados mais por sorte do que por ciência. O mergulho na baía serviu para desfazer as teias de aranha que já se acumulavam nos meus braços e, se o Hùng não nos tivesse obrigado a voltar ao barco, tínhamos ficado por ali até o sol se pôr...
A ilha de Van Don acolhe-nos esta noite, e depois de meia hora para tomarmos um duche e mudarmos de roupa aprendemos a fazer spring rolls, um trabalho de equipa que nos entreteve até ao jantar ser servido, quando todos estávamos com um apetite bastante desenvolvido. A conversa durante e depois do jantar, acompanhada pela agradável e estupidamente barata cerveja Hà Nội, cobriu tópicos tão variados como o colonialismo, literatura Portuguesa do final do século XX ou o sistema de saúde Britânico, e apesar de virmos de realidades bastante diferentes ninguém se chateou. À primeira vista até parece que pessoas de sítios diferentes podem discutir temas complicados sem desatarem ao estalo, mas o resto do Mundo à volta da pacata ilha de Van Don parece discordar...
Beijos e abraços,
Ginete
À chegada a Bai Tu Long Bay conhecemos os nossos companheiros de viagem, provenientes dos mais variados sítios, desde o Líbano à Indonésia, passando por nações mais familiares como o Reino Unido ou a Alemanha. Hùng, o nosso guia, explicou-nos o significado do nome da baía (traduzindo literalmente, "cem dragões bébés") com a lenda da dragão mãe chamada pelo Imperador para combater os invasores que, após aterrar em Halong Bay e dar uma tareia aos maus, deixou para trás cem ovos ates de subir aos céus. As resultantes crias ficaram então representadas pelas famosas formações rochosas, que tornam esta paisagem única no Mundo. Como tínhamos a bordo um casal praticante de AcroYoga (que não sabia que era uma coisa até hoje) a dita paisagem tornou-se ainda mais única com a adição de uma catraia a fazer de super-homem.
Sem termos visitado Halong Bay para podermos comparar as duas, tanto o Ben como eu ficámos satisfeitos com a nossa decisão, não só porque passámos a tarde a olhar especados para o que nos rodeava mas também por termos a baía basicamente só para nós. O passeio de canoa teve a sua piada, apesar de termos demorado bastante tempo a dominar a técnica necessária para mantermos a trajectória pretendida, levando a vários quase-acidentes que foram evitados mais por sorte do que por ciência. O mergulho na baía serviu para desfazer as teias de aranha que já se acumulavam nos meus braços e, se o Hùng não nos tivesse obrigado a voltar ao barco, tínhamos ficado por ali até o sol se pôr...
A ilha de Van Don acolhe-nos esta noite, e depois de meia hora para tomarmos um duche e mudarmos de roupa aprendemos a fazer spring rolls, um trabalho de equipa que nos entreteve até ao jantar ser servido, quando todos estávamos com um apetite bastante desenvolvido. A conversa durante e depois do jantar, acompanhada pela agradável e estupidamente barata cerveja Hà Nội, cobriu tópicos tão variados como o colonialismo, literatura Portuguesa do final do século XX ou o sistema de saúde Britânico, e apesar de virmos de realidades bastante diferentes ninguém se chateou. À primeira vista até parece que pessoas de sítios diferentes podem discutir temas complicados sem desatarem ao estalo, mas o resto do Mundo à volta da pacata ilha de Van Don parece discordar...
Beijos e abraços,
Ginete
Wednesday, 20 September 2017
Day 47 - Heat
If I had to describe Hanoi in one phrase, it would definitely be “hot as balls”. Today's 34 degrees were probably the highest temperature I have faced since the beginning of this trip, but the lower humidity has made it slightly more bearable than Singapore. In any case, spending a whole day sightseeing under these conditions was not easy for Ben and I, who felt absolutely disgusting from about five minutes after leaving out hotel onwards.
The temple in the Hoàn Kiếm Lake was pleasant enough, but the sheer amount of Western tourists was just starting to become obvious. While we were aware that Vietnam was more touristy than the places we had been to so far, we were not quite expecting to be so obviously on the tourist track at this time of the year. In search of more secluded spots, we moved on to the Temple of Literature, where despite its fascinating history as Vietnam’s first University (where the King himself was the head examiner) and stunning architecture we still felt like small fish in a big touristy pond.
Walking around Hanoi’s streets was probably the highlight of our day, as despite the constant sweatiness we were amazed by how Vietnamese people risk their children’s lives by taking them on scooters in the crazy traffic (child’s play compared to Delhi, but still pretty insane). As Aeronautical geeks, however, Ben and I had to check out the B-52 Victory Museum, where an American bomber shot down by the North Vietnamese army is proudly displayed in many burned-down pieces. It is interesting to see how, despite the twenty years of brutal war with the US, Vietnam has become so receptive to the West and its hordes of tourists - I guess, at the end of the day, money talks.
After a quick stop at Hoi Chi Minh’s mausoleum we headed back to the Old Quarter, were we intended to book an overnight trip to Halong Bay. As we entered the Ethnic Tours office (recommended by the interwebs), we were convinced to do Bai Tu Long Bay instead, as it supposedly is just like the famous destination but without the thousands of tourists littering the waters and spoiling the otherworldly scenery. Despite our previous experience with travel agencies, we decided to take their advice - stay tuned if you want to find out whether or not this was a good idea!
Our evening evolved from a quiet dinner, where we ran into people we recognised from the Temple of Literature, to drinking absurdly cheap beer at a hostel bar, where we ran into people who yesterday had joined us in waiting for our bags for half an hour as they lay on the floor next to the belt, ready to be collected. It looks like the beaten track is also a small World. As there did not seem to be much going on in the Old Quarter and the bar was closing, we somehow got absorbed into the crowd leaving to what the loud Canadian guy standing on top of the bar described as a "bar crawl".
If you had told us we were going to be sipping two-dollar Whisky and cokes at a dodgy club in Hanoi, with the highest density of douchebags per square metre I have ever experienced, when we were dancing on the fifty-seventh floor of the Marina Bay Sands only 48 hours earlier, I am pretty sure we would have laughed it off. As you may have guessed, that is exactly what our night turned out to be. Despite my eagerness to give it a shot, Ben’s suggestion to bail before midnight was one hundred percent correct as the music was awful, yet substantially better than the crowd.
Our only night in Hanoi ended with a couple of drams of 16-year old Lagavulin, which Ben wisely brought to this leg of the trip, and a playlist filled with Lonely Island and Steel Panther. What else can a guy ask for?
Cheers,
J-Wowww
The temple in the Hoàn Kiếm Lake was pleasant enough, but the sheer amount of Western tourists was just starting to become obvious. While we were aware that Vietnam was more touristy than the places we had been to so far, we were not quite expecting to be so obviously on the tourist track at this time of the year. In search of more secluded spots, we moved on to the Temple of Literature, where despite its fascinating history as Vietnam’s first University (where the King himself was the head examiner) and stunning architecture we still felt like small fish in a big touristy pond.
Walking around Hanoi’s streets was probably the highlight of our day, as despite the constant sweatiness we were amazed by how Vietnamese people risk their children’s lives by taking them on scooters in the crazy traffic (child’s play compared to Delhi, but still pretty insane). As Aeronautical geeks, however, Ben and I had to check out the B-52 Victory Museum, where an American bomber shot down by the North Vietnamese army is proudly displayed in many burned-down pieces. It is interesting to see how, despite the twenty years of brutal war with the US, Vietnam has become so receptive to the West and its hordes of tourists - I guess, at the end of the day, money talks.
After a quick stop at Hoi Chi Minh’s mausoleum we headed back to the Old Quarter, were we intended to book an overnight trip to Halong Bay. As we entered the Ethnic Tours office (recommended by the interwebs), we were convinced to do Bai Tu Long Bay instead, as it supposedly is just like the famous destination but without the thousands of tourists littering the waters and spoiling the otherworldly scenery. Despite our previous experience with travel agencies, we decided to take their advice - stay tuned if you want to find out whether or not this was a good idea!
Our evening evolved from a quiet dinner, where we ran into people we recognised from the Temple of Literature, to drinking absurdly cheap beer at a hostel bar, where we ran into people who yesterday had joined us in waiting for our bags for half an hour as they lay on the floor next to the belt, ready to be collected. It looks like the beaten track is also a small World. As there did not seem to be much going on in the Old Quarter and the bar was closing, we somehow got absorbed into the crowd leaving to what the loud Canadian guy standing on top of the bar described as a "bar crawl".
If you had told us we were going to be sipping two-dollar Whisky and cokes at a dodgy club in Hanoi, with the highest density of douchebags per square metre I have ever experienced, when we were dancing on the fifty-seventh floor of the Marina Bay Sands only 48 hours earlier, I am pretty sure we would have laughed it off. As you may have guessed, that is exactly what our night turned out to be. Despite my eagerness to give it a shot, Ben’s suggestion to bail before midnight was one hundred percent correct as the music was awful, yet substantially better than the crowd.
Our only night in Hanoi ended with a couple of drams of 16-year old Lagavulin, which Ben wisely brought to this leg of the trip, and a playlist filled with Lonely Island and Steel Panther. What else can a guy ask for?
Cheers,
J-Wowww
Dia 46 - Exaustão
Singapura decidiu despedir-se de nós com a maior carga de água da semana, que felizmente só me apanhou quando já estava debaixo do telhado de vidro do Aeroporto Internacional Changi. As minhas últimas horas na cidade-estado foram produtivas e fiz o check-in de cabelo cortado e estômago cheio, depois de um excelente Briyani em Little India com o Tom em jeito de despedida. Recomendado pelo condutor do Uber que nos deixou de manhã e pelo senhor que me cortou o cabelo, acabámos por descobrir que fazia parte do guia Michelin e o lassi de manga e o kulfi de sobremesa foram essenciais para evitar que a minha boca acabasse carbonizada para sempre, tão picante era o prato principal.
O voo até Hanoi não foi longo o suficiente para recuperarmos as horas de sono em falta, especialmente depois de sermos acordados a meio com a oferta de uma refeição de “seafood”. Fora as micro-gambas que enfeitavam o prato não reconhecemos mais nada de familiar, mas como estávamos com fome lá ingerimos a dita substância, que até agora ainda não nos matou. O pôr-do-sol visível da janela do Ben garantiu que não dormiríamos mesmo nada, pelo que ao chegarmos ao aeroporto de Hanoi e passarmos pela imigração estávamos tão cansados que esperámos mais de meia hora pelas malas antes de percebermos que estas estavam tranquilamente pousadas no chão, ao lado do tapete. Felizmente não éramos os únicos, mas ainda assim sentimo-nos altamente palermas.
Depois de um jantar incrível, talvez tanto pela qualidade culinária como pela fome que possuíamos, voltámos para o hotel para finalmente podermos cair para o lado de sono. Singapura foi uma experiência intensa mas que repetiria sem hesitar. Mais do que ver um Grande Prémio citadino durante a noite, ir sair a bares no topo de arranha-céus ou fazer caretas a macacos numa floresta a meros minutos de uma das cidades mais desenvolvidas do Mundo, creio que vou sentir sobretudo saudades de só ter de levantar a cabeça e olhar à minha volta para ficar boquiaberto. Nunca pensei que um sítio tão pequeno tivesse tanto para oferecer, mas a verdade é que todos nos vimos embora a pensar “eu vivia aqui um aninho ou dois…”, o que para mim é o maior elogio que se pode dar a uma cidade. Parabéns Singapura, e até já!
Beijos e abraços,
Ginete
O voo até Hanoi não foi longo o suficiente para recuperarmos as horas de sono em falta, especialmente depois de sermos acordados a meio com a oferta de uma refeição de “seafood”. Fora as micro-gambas que enfeitavam o prato não reconhecemos mais nada de familiar, mas como estávamos com fome lá ingerimos a dita substância, que até agora ainda não nos matou. O pôr-do-sol visível da janela do Ben garantiu que não dormiríamos mesmo nada, pelo que ao chegarmos ao aeroporto de Hanoi e passarmos pela imigração estávamos tão cansados que esperámos mais de meia hora pelas malas antes de percebermos que estas estavam tranquilamente pousadas no chão, ao lado do tapete. Felizmente não éramos os únicos, mas ainda assim sentimo-nos altamente palermas.
Depois de um jantar incrível, talvez tanto pela qualidade culinária como pela fome que possuíamos, voltámos para o hotel para finalmente podermos cair para o lado de sono. Singapura foi uma experiência intensa mas que repetiria sem hesitar. Mais do que ver um Grande Prémio citadino durante a noite, ir sair a bares no topo de arranha-céus ou fazer caretas a macacos numa floresta a meros minutos de uma das cidades mais desenvolvidas do Mundo, creio que vou sentir sobretudo saudades de só ter de levantar a cabeça e olhar à minha volta para ficar boquiaberto. Nunca pensei que um sítio tão pequeno tivesse tanto para oferecer, mas a verdade é que todos nos vimos embora a pensar “eu vivia aqui um aninho ou dois…”, o que para mim é o maior elogio que se pode dar a uma cidade. Parabéns Singapura, e até já!
Beijos e abraços,
Ginete
Tuesday, 19 September 2017
Day 45 - Race
Race day was meant to start with a midday boozy brunch at a nice hotel in the city centre. However, the effects of yesterday’s tiredness were still being felt this morning, leading Ben, Tom and I to ignore our alarm clocks and miss it, leaving Amar and Alice to stuff their faces while we went back to the cafe that supplied our breakfast on Thursday in search of the molten eggs with cheese (which really should be called molten cheese with eggs) that looked too good to miss out on when Amar had ordered them on our first visit. All three of us left thoroughly satisfied and headed to Orchard Rd, where Ben invested on another lens for his camera and I had to spend every ounce of my willpower not to do the same.
In the past nine editions of the Singapore Grand Prix it had never rained during a session — practice, qualifying or race. In the first four sessions of the tenth edition, that trend was maintained, despite plenty of showers and thunderstorms before and after running. The dark clouds covering the sky and the flashes of lightning not very far from the circuit made it very likely that history would be made, and sure enough it started raining reasonably heavily ten minutes before the formation lap. With a smile on my face from the fact that Max, who was due to start from P2 and had the inside line into Turn 1, is a well known wet-weather master, I made my way to the first corner with high hopes. These lasted about twenty seconds after the lights went out, at which point I could just about distinguish a red car (with a loosely attached wheel flying above the roll hoop) crashing into Max’s Red Bull, then taking out an orange car sneaking around the outside. Otherwise there was pretty much spray everywhere, making one wonder how on earth these guys manage to drive at 300kph in these conditions…
The rain quickly eased off and the rest of the race was mostly processional, with Lewis Hamilton’s pace (which was nowhere in qualifying) too much for Daniel Ricciardo in the sole surviving Red Bull. Going on track for the podium celebrations was a pretty sweaty affair, but worth it for the track walk that followed. While I am aware I have been raving about this circuit and its surroundings for three solid days here, it still felt pretty cool to walk along the bridge or the bay chicanes, especially after having been lucky enough to do the same in Monte Carlo with Tom a few months earlier. I can safely say this is the best Grand Prix I have ever been to, not only due to the track itself and the way it is set up (Calvin Harris put on a pretty good show after the race) but also due to the fact that the General Admission tickets allow you to pick out of a number of great spots around the track and also that you are surrounded by one of the most vibrant cities in the World, offering pretty much everything from cheap street food joints to expensive nightclubs atop gigantic skyscrapers.
After five days in Singapore we were still missing a trip up the Marina Bay Sands hotel, the iconic three-towered building that you have probably seen a dozen of times in the skyline pictures scattered around this blog (I know, there are a few of them…). This was rectified as some recently-acquainted friends of ours managed to get us into “Cé La Vi”, which despite the bastardisation of the French language is a pretty cool club next to the hotel’s famous Infinity pool. The view was not quite as epic as the one from the top of One Raffles Place, but it certainly left you torn between enjoying the decent music on the dance floor and just vacantly staring at the immensity of the commercial district buildings one more (and eventually one last) time. There may have been a more perfect way to end the Singaporean part of this trip, but I sincerely doubt I would be able to afford the taxi to the airport after that…
Cheers,
J-Wowww
In the past nine editions of the Singapore Grand Prix it had never rained during a session — practice, qualifying or race. In the first four sessions of the tenth edition, that trend was maintained, despite plenty of showers and thunderstorms before and after running. The dark clouds covering the sky and the flashes of lightning not very far from the circuit made it very likely that history would be made, and sure enough it started raining reasonably heavily ten minutes before the formation lap. With a smile on my face from the fact that Max, who was due to start from P2 and had the inside line into Turn 1, is a well known wet-weather master, I made my way to the first corner with high hopes. These lasted about twenty seconds after the lights went out, at which point I could just about distinguish a red car (with a loosely attached wheel flying above the roll hoop) crashing into Max’s Red Bull, then taking out an orange car sneaking around the outside. Otherwise there was pretty much spray everywhere, making one wonder how on earth these guys manage to drive at 300kph in these conditions…
The rain quickly eased off and the rest of the race was mostly processional, with Lewis Hamilton’s pace (which was nowhere in qualifying) too much for Daniel Ricciardo in the sole surviving Red Bull. Going on track for the podium celebrations was a pretty sweaty affair, but worth it for the track walk that followed. While I am aware I have been raving about this circuit and its surroundings for three solid days here, it still felt pretty cool to walk along the bridge or the bay chicanes, especially after having been lucky enough to do the same in Monte Carlo with Tom a few months earlier. I can safely say this is the best Grand Prix I have ever been to, not only due to the track itself and the way it is set up (Calvin Harris put on a pretty good show after the race) but also due to the fact that the General Admission tickets allow you to pick out of a number of great spots around the track and also that you are surrounded by one of the most vibrant cities in the World, offering pretty much everything from cheap street food joints to expensive nightclubs atop gigantic skyscrapers.
Cheers,
J-Wowww
Monday, 18 September 2017
Dia 44 - Qualificação
Depois do cansaço que atrasou início do dia de ontem fomos espertos e decidimos elevar a fasquia ao sair outra vez até às cinco da manhã e acordar às onze para um “walking tour” de Little India que estávamos convencidos que existia, apesar de ninguém se lembrar exactamente onde tínhamos obtido essa informação. Claro está, quando chegou a hora ninguém (nem o Google) fazia ideia de onde começava, pelo que acabámos por vaguear pela parte indiana da cidade por nossa conta. Depois de o Tom e o Amar aproveitarem para arranjar e desbloquear os respectivos telemóveis percorremos os mercados e as arcadas repletas de flores e roupas coloridas, onde a cada olhar éramos interpelados pelos comerciantes desesperados por nos terem como clientes - ainda que bastante menos agressivos do que na Índia a sério, vou confessar que já tinha saudades.
O passo seguinte, que também já não acontecia há tempo demais, foi o Ginete conduzir o grupo inteiro num passeio de meia hora até o clube recreativo cá do sítio, onde o Google Maps me garantia existir o restaurante recomendado pela amiga da Catarina. Felizmente o senhor da recepção deu-nos indicações decentes para o restaurante e, depois de mais quinze minutos a vaguear sob o simpático calor Singapurense, lá encontrámos o Maraj, que nos serviu um apetitoso almoço indiano.
Apesar de a recomendação especificar “comer butter chicken no Maraj” ninguém se lembrou de fazer tal escolha, mas para sobremesa seguimos outra recomendação - a de Milo Dinossaurs, uma solução saturada de leite com chocolate, feita quente antes de ser adicionado gelo, sobre o qual são depositadas mais duas colheres de sopa de chocolate em pó para lhe conferir toda uma textura arenosa e garantir que o valor calórico entra facilmente na casa dos milhares de calorias. Apesar de o pico de açúcar nos ter deixado ainda mais cansados do que já estávamos, todos os que participaram nesta experiência concordaram que valeu a pena.
Para repor os nossos níveis de energia e, ao mesmo tempo, satisfazer os desejos dos fãs de Friends entre nós fomos ao Central Perk, um café temático da série americana cuja única sucursal fora dos Estados Unidos é em Singapura. O que era para ser uma visita rápida tornou-se numa estadia prolongada, uma vez que o café era bom e os sofás, virados para um ecrã onde eram projectados episódios da série, aparentavam possuir um campo magnético que, durante horas, nos impediu qualquer movimento. Apesar de turístico por defeito, o sítio tem a sua piada e foi o remédio perfeito para o nosso cansaço acumulado.
A terceira sessão de treinos livres foi mais do mesmo, com o Max Verstappen a fazer o melhor tempo e a prometer um bom resultado na Qualificação. Entre as duas sessões aproveitámos o facto de a entrada para o Singapore Flyer ser gratuita e fomos dar uma volta enquanto a Ana e a Catarina assistiam ao concerto da Ariana Grande no palco Padang. A vista da roda gigante não desapontou, especialmente incrível enquanto os carros (não de Fórmula Um, mas da Porsche Carrera Cup) estão em pista durante a noite, o que depois de experimentarmos vários pontos de vista do Skyline da cidade nos últimos dias não nos deixou propriamente surpreendidos.
Depois de ver a Red Bull dominar todas as sessões de treinos livres até esse ponto, os segundo e terceiro lugares na qualificação deixaram-nos ligeiramente desapontados, mas ainda assim com esperanças de que um bom arranque do Max seja o suficiente para ultrapassar o Sebastian Vettel (que tem mais a perder por estar na luta pelo título) na travagem para a primeira curva. Ver os carros a dar tudo nas duas últimas curvas foi provavelmente o ponto alto do fim-de-semana, com os arranha-céus iluminados como pano de fundo e o Flyer sobre as nossas cabeças a completar uma pintura surreal.
O nosso cansaço, que creio já ter mencionado uma ou duas vezes, ainda nos permitiu comer qualquer coisa em Clarke Quay enquanto víamos o jogo entre o Tottenham e o Swansea, mas a nossa energia já não chegou para acabarmos as cinquenta “chicken wings” que pedimos para cinco pessoas. Pela primeira vez nesta viagem fomos para casa relativamente cedo e sem dançar uma só vez ao som de Despacito. Por milhentas razões, nem todas relacionadas com o tão fartinhos que estamos do senhor Luis Fonsi, estávamos a precisar…
Beijos e abraços,
Ginete
O passo seguinte, que também já não acontecia há tempo demais, foi o Ginete conduzir o grupo inteiro num passeio de meia hora até o clube recreativo cá do sítio, onde o Google Maps me garantia existir o restaurante recomendado pela amiga da Catarina. Felizmente o senhor da recepção deu-nos indicações decentes para o restaurante e, depois de mais quinze minutos a vaguear sob o simpático calor Singapurense, lá encontrámos o Maraj, que nos serviu um apetitoso almoço indiano.
Apesar de a recomendação especificar “comer butter chicken no Maraj” ninguém se lembrou de fazer tal escolha, mas para sobremesa seguimos outra recomendação - a de Milo Dinossaurs, uma solução saturada de leite com chocolate, feita quente antes de ser adicionado gelo, sobre o qual são depositadas mais duas colheres de sopa de chocolate em pó para lhe conferir toda uma textura arenosa e garantir que o valor calórico entra facilmente na casa dos milhares de calorias. Apesar de o pico de açúcar nos ter deixado ainda mais cansados do que já estávamos, todos os que participaram nesta experiência concordaram que valeu a pena.
Para repor os nossos níveis de energia e, ao mesmo tempo, satisfazer os desejos dos fãs de Friends entre nós fomos ao Central Perk, um café temático da série americana cuja única sucursal fora dos Estados Unidos é em Singapura. O que era para ser uma visita rápida tornou-se numa estadia prolongada, uma vez que o café era bom e os sofás, virados para um ecrã onde eram projectados episódios da série, aparentavam possuir um campo magnético que, durante horas, nos impediu qualquer movimento. Apesar de turístico por defeito, o sítio tem a sua piada e foi o remédio perfeito para o nosso cansaço acumulado.
A terceira sessão de treinos livres foi mais do mesmo, com o Max Verstappen a fazer o melhor tempo e a prometer um bom resultado na Qualificação. Entre as duas sessões aproveitámos o facto de a entrada para o Singapore Flyer ser gratuita e fomos dar uma volta enquanto a Ana e a Catarina assistiam ao concerto da Ariana Grande no palco Padang. A vista da roda gigante não desapontou, especialmente incrível enquanto os carros (não de Fórmula Um, mas da Porsche Carrera Cup) estão em pista durante a noite, o que depois de experimentarmos vários pontos de vista do Skyline da cidade nos últimos dias não nos deixou propriamente surpreendidos.
Depois de ver a Red Bull dominar todas as sessões de treinos livres até esse ponto, os segundo e terceiro lugares na qualificação deixaram-nos ligeiramente desapontados, mas ainda assim com esperanças de que um bom arranque do Max seja o suficiente para ultrapassar o Sebastian Vettel (que tem mais a perder por estar na luta pelo título) na travagem para a primeira curva. Ver os carros a dar tudo nas duas últimas curvas foi provavelmente o ponto alto do fim-de-semana, com os arranha-céus iluminados como pano de fundo e o Flyer sobre as nossas cabeças a completar uma pintura surreal.
O nosso cansaço, que creio já ter mencionado uma ou duas vezes, ainda nos permitiu comer qualquer coisa em Clarke Quay enquanto víamos o jogo entre o Tottenham e o Swansea, mas a nossa energia já não chegou para acabarmos as cinquenta “chicken wings” que pedimos para cinco pessoas. Pela primeira vez nesta viagem fomos para casa relativamente cedo e sem dançar uma só vez ao som de Despacito. Por milhentas razões, nem todas relacionadas com o tão fartinhos que estamos do senhor Luis Fonsi, estávamos a precisar…
Beijos e abraços,
Ginete
Sunday, 17 September 2017
Day 43 - Practice
Last night's events led to a late start to the day, as even though we aimed to be up by 1pm we actually struggled to leave the house on time to make it to the start of free practice. In the end we made it just in time, stopping to talk to the NUS Formula SAE team as the first few install laps were going on.
The Singapore street circuit is a pretty incredible place to watch motor racing. The obvious lack of run-off areas puts the spectators incredibly close to the cars and, as you look around, you feel dwarfed by towering buildings and the Singapore Flyer, a huge Ferris wheel overlooking the start/finish straight. Despite the underwhelming noise and relatively low top speeds achieved in this twisty track, the cornering and braking performance are pretty impressive, with the (only slightly artificial) sparks coming off the back of the cars through the bumpy Turn 1 making it a nice show. The session ended with Daniel Ricciardo in P1 and Fernando Alonso in P8, making most of us pretty happy.
The Gardens by the Bay are a combination of natural and artificial trees located behind the iconic Marina Bay Sands hotel, which become illuminated in changing colours as the sun comes down behind the Singapore skyline. A peaceful and pleasant walk, which provided a welcome change of scenery from the loud and frantic concrete jungle surrounding the race track, it opened our appetite for dinner at the poetically-named Satay by the Bay, where the absurd amount of food that at one point covered our table was somehow devoured by the start of the second free practice session.
With Daniel on top once again followed by his teammate, boding well for Red Bull’s chances this weekend, and the McLarens a respectable 6-7, we headed to the OneRepublic concert at the main stage in the GP precinct. While none of us are exactly lifelong fans of the American band, everyone was pretty amused when the lead singer announced he was going to perform some songs he had written for other artists. He opened with "Halo" and everyone immediately realised why it was Beyoncé who turned it into a hit - as much as the guy tried, his voice did not have the power nor the range to do it justice, and his attempt at doing so travelled the road between inadequate and outright painful for what felt like a quarter of an hour. After a couple more songs, where the singer's shortfalls were not as evidently exposed, we decided to call it a day.
The walk between the Grand Prix venue and Clarke Quay continued the trend of pretty reflections of high-rise buildings on water, with the suffocating humid heat that had me struggling all day having eased off considerably by this point. A tower of Tiger wrapped up the cooling requirements for the evening, but we will definitely be back for some more sweaty motor racing tomorrow.
Cheers,
J-Wowww
The Singapore street circuit is a pretty incredible place to watch motor racing. The obvious lack of run-off areas puts the spectators incredibly close to the cars and, as you look around, you feel dwarfed by towering buildings and the Singapore Flyer, a huge Ferris wheel overlooking the start/finish straight. Despite the underwhelming noise and relatively low top speeds achieved in this twisty track, the cornering and braking performance are pretty impressive, with the (only slightly artificial) sparks coming off the back of the cars through the bumpy Turn 1 making it a nice show. The session ended with Daniel Ricciardo in P1 and Fernando Alonso in P8, making most of us pretty happy.
The Gardens by the Bay are a combination of natural and artificial trees located behind the iconic Marina Bay Sands hotel, which become illuminated in changing colours as the sun comes down behind the Singapore skyline. A peaceful and pleasant walk, which provided a welcome change of scenery from the loud and frantic concrete jungle surrounding the race track, it opened our appetite for dinner at the poetically-named Satay by the Bay, where the absurd amount of food that at one point covered our table was somehow devoured by the start of the second free practice session.
With Daniel on top once again followed by his teammate, boding well for Red Bull’s chances this weekend, and the McLarens a respectable 6-7, we headed to the OneRepublic concert at the main stage in the GP precinct. While none of us are exactly lifelong fans of the American band, everyone was pretty amused when the lead singer announced he was going to perform some songs he had written for other artists. He opened with "Halo" and everyone immediately realised why it was Beyoncé who turned it into a hit - as much as the guy tried, his voice did not have the power nor the range to do it justice, and his attempt at doing so travelled the road between inadequate and outright painful for what felt like a quarter of an hour. After a couple more songs, where the singer's shortfalls were not as evidently exposed, we decided to call it a day.
The walk between the Grand Prix venue and Clarke Quay continued the trend of pretty reflections of high-rise buildings on water, with the suffocating humid heat that had me struggling all day having eased off considerably by this point. A tower of Tiger wrapped up the cooling requirements for the evening, but we will definitely be back for some more sweaty motor racing tomorrow.
Cheers,
J-Wowww
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