Hit the floor, Singapore

Hey there Angels and Demons!

Guess where I've been rocking it up lately? Only in the world's second most competitive country. Ranked so by the Global Competitiveness Report 2011-2012, coming second only to Switzerland (the report was written by the World Economic Forum, based in Geneva... not implying anything... just saying...). The taxi driver told us all of this while we were pulling out of the airport. Sing, Sing, Singapore.

And what a city? Wowee! at first you can't help but be struck with how glorious and green it is and how the ecological environment contrasts with the skyscrapers, the traffic and the teched-up citizens. In two words it is efficiency and cleanliness. Everything works like clockwork, there is no chaos, no disruption, no surprises. The streets are so clean that even chewing gum is banned (a stark contrast to Tunis where you are encouraged to chew gum to protect your taste-buds from exhaust fumes, or London, where some days you can just chew on the smog).

The first few days I didn't get much time to look around, I was there for work afterall. On one morning, I took a run outside. It was something. 94% humidity and 30°C heat, at 5:30am. My breath was so shallow and the air was so thick, it felt like I was running on the moon. I have never sweat like that. It was the slowest and yet most glorious 8km of my life. My trainers are still wet and stinky. And what with it being the second most competitive city in the world, I wasn't the only one out running at that time (although I was quite possibly the slowest).

Another evening, we went down to the Marina. The seafood was delicious, if pretty expensive, but if I keep comparing everywhere to Tunisia, I'll feel like I'm being ripped off the world over. I had scallops which were the size of scones and too too many Singapore Slings. A Singapore Sling is a gin based cocktail, with cherry brandy, grenadine, club soda and pineapple juice. They usually garnish it with a pineapple and a maraschino cherry. They are very drinkable. Very.

Then a client who had been working in Singapore for several years offered to take us down to see the Merlion. Liking Mermaids and Lions, I knew this would be good. Singapore, comes from the word Singapura meaning Lion City. The Merlion is a mascot for the city and his fishy tail represents the fishing industry from which the city was originally built up. I took a bad boy selfie at the Merlion. That is real sweat. Water from inside my cells. On my face. Yum.

The sight here was amazing. Blew. Me. Away. The huge skyscrapers wrapped around the glistening water. There was a casino the spanned across the top of six giant buildings. The scale is out of this world. All of this has been built within the last 20 years. Maybe it was too much New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, but I had an overwhelming urge to grab the railings and shout at the top of my lungs "Look what we did!! Look what Humans can do if they all work together to achieve a common goal". I didn't, but I couldn't believe no one else was shouting in awe. But everyone just stood nicely taking pictures.

Let's all conform.

On the final day, we wrapped up our meeting early. It became clear that we would have from 2pm until our flight at 2:20am free to explore the city, to say hello and goodbye. I looked at my colleague with a sparkle in my eye and said "Universal Studios Singapore, dare we?". He gazed back blankly. Sometimes it is necessary for me to appreciate that not all children grew up tearing around theme parks, collecting fast-pass tickets for their family of seven, optimising show and parade times and devising fun games to play in long, boring queues. Some children grew up on the mean streets of Niamey, and after a week of tense meetings, they are really just looking for a bed and some re-coup time. After complaining to my travel companion that he was being a complete "Singa-bore" (came up with that one by myself, you can use it if you like), I hit the streets solo to find out what the city was really all about.

One of the most striking parts of the city (and this was largely because I turned the wrong way out of the hotel and ended up in the Muslim district) was the peaceful co-existence of all of the religions. Mosques sat alongside Hindu and Buddhist temples, there were churches and gudwaras a plenty. In Chinatown I hit up some pork dumplings in chilli oil (swine-loading in prep for the return to Tunisia) and a Hindu Temple. It was so beautiful. It reminded me so much of my trip to India in 2009. Hinduism is a religion I hold a lot of closeness to, I studied it extensively at school and many of my best friends are Hindu. I love the humility and the purity. It also felt nice to take my shoes off on the cool marble, as I had been walking for hours. Here are some pictures.

 

Then I went to the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple. It was my first time inside a Buddhist Temple. It was a beautiful glistening sight to behold. The monks, clothed in orange, were chanting, peacefully, and the whole ambiance was very calming and quietening, a huge contrast from Chinatown outside where the Temple is located.

From here, I walked to Mount Faber (yes, a Mountain!) and climbed right to the top (in my worn ballerina pumps) and caught a cable car (Asia's first cable car) to Sentosa Island. This is where Universal Studios is. There are also a number of other amusement parks and rides and other adventures to be had, but I just limited myself to the cable car today. A quick cocktail, and a little read of my book, and it was time to head back for some speedy-Gonzales shopping at the harbour mall (In Europe, volume control is to applied to music devices - I snapped up a quick mp3 player for when I like to listen LOUD) and then a cab back to the hotel to meet my colleague for flight time.

It was a brilliant city, and a place that I never expected to go, nor had a desire to go, but Singapore really impressed me. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll go back...   

(Now don't even pretend like you don't want to see more pictures) 

Hammamet 10k

I've done it again! Two running post back to back. Forgive me. This one is about more than just Running. Promise, promise.

Hammamet is a town about a hour's drive south of Tunis. The word Hammamet comes from the plural of Hammam or baths, and the area was named in reference to the ruins of many Roman Bath artifacts found in the area. Today, the area is still popular with people looking to relax and wallow in the water and it's a tourist hotspot for Europeans with its own airport and nightclub strip, earning it the tagline Ibiza sans visa. My company also have corporate rate agreements with lots of the mega-swank hotels, so it's easy to head down there for a steal of a weekend.

Last Saturday they organised the first ever Half-Marathon. Hungover, and barely able to walk on Saturday morning, my running team and I decided that it would be more prudent to participate in the course pour tous, the 10km Race. It was a point to point race, to the middle of nowhere. The organisers had literally spraypainted a line across the road at 10k. But the local support through the villages was amazing. I did so many high-5s I had to change hands after a while, as my palm was getting raw!

My time was not a personal best - I can't even tell you! it was longer than an hour - I'm getting worse! Well, It was a personal-best, daytime-sun, in-Africa-in-June. I was so hungover, so the fact that I even participated deserves some credit. And the credit came in the form of a medal! Naturally. And a free t-shirt in Peptol Bismol pink.

 

I don't think I have ever mentioned, but every single race I have ever done in Tunisia has been free.  They pay for the refreshments, the prizes, the medals and the goodie bags all through sponsorships. Hats off people. I do appreciate it. I have a nice little collection of t-shirts now. I guess I'll never need to buy pyjamas again.

After the run we went to Le Barberrousse (#2 restaurant in Hammamet according to Mister Trip Advisor). It has a extensive Franco-Italian menu that is filled with all different seafood and pasta and excitement. No one even reads it. Every single table orders the catch of the day cooked in salt. If you don't, then you just don't know. Seriously. It's just that, a massive fish (our was a sea bass) cooked in a mountain of salt which then then, theatrically, break with a hammer at your table. Hammers in Hammamet... (did she really just write that?)

 

Some more good menu translations, I had to share these with you! hehe!

Then she looked at all she had done, and she saw that it was good. And on the Sabbath, she rested...

 And got REALLY BAD SUNBURN... doh!

Bay to Breakers 12km, San Francisco

There was a run.

Yes, it was my holidays, but after we booked the Alcatraz tickets, I got a little email to warn me of possible travel disruptions on that day due to the the Bay to Breakers 12km run across San Francisco and the little Paula Radcliffe shaped angel on my shoulder whispered "you could, y'know...". A few minutes and a couple of click later and I was in. Down for a 7am start... Izzie is gonna LURVE me!

So the Bay to Breakers is a little 12km jolly from one side of San Francisco to the other... here's a little picture that I took with my watch when I ran (my love for my GPS watch will never fade).

I had to get up super-early, but lucky for me I was all jet-lagged and on African time, so it didn't really feel early at all. I sauntered down to the train station at 6am, feeling just a bit groggy and silly wearing my running gear on public transport so early. I needn't have worried. Waiting for the train was a Santa Clause, three ninja turtles, two power rangers and some middle-aged women in florescent leg warmers. I was impressed, I had heard that lots of people wear costumes for this race, but I hadn't reckoned on America's addiction to fancy dress. I would usually made the most of being outside the Maghreb and worn a sleeveless top, but sadly I had intense sunburn from the bike-ride the day before and so I had to keep covered up.

This is my excited-here-we-go, yeah-I'm-wearing-make-up, where-are-the-bathrooms face. There is a crazy tradition involving throwing around stale tortilla at the start line. I got involved, who am I to comment on tradition?

And then all of a sudden, we were off. It was brilliant. There were naked people, drunk people, live bands, loads of fancy dress, DJs, photographers, Students cheers, hanging out of windows. It was really brilliant. But I know what you really want to know, right? How were those hills? the legendary hills? H.A.R.D. They were so steep, people put their hands up at the top as if they were on a rollercoaster. My watch drew a picture of them too. Ready to see?

That's the elevation right there. What a burner. Ouchy. Thankfully there was lots of support through the tough moments, so they didn't feel so bad. But really, those hills are not for the faint-hearted.

I managed a smile, especially for you, at the finish time. I look pretty hot and rotten, but we got some coconut water, so that was pretty exciting. At this point you should know that I didn't shower for another 12 hours... mmm!

(Fake) Tales of San Francisco

Dés' pour le retard!!

(Yup, that's how my French is shaping up lately)

So I took a little holiday (and by "little" I mean "of a lifetime") and when I got back the catching up with work and friends in Tunis and working through the post-holiday-blues took up all of my waking hours. Then Team Tunis got really busy moving houses, having babies and throwing dinner parties every night, and then my work have decided to move us all to another country which has got all of us excited... so, over a week since I got back, I'm just updating you now.

I went to SAN FRANCISCO Y'ALL!!

So the obsession with San Francisco began with my childhood bedtime stories. My parents hadn't travelled a great deal before I was born, so post-procreation, sensing overwhelming responsibility and pressure, they left me with an aunt and travelled the width of America by road, lest they should spent long evenings in the future babysitting their huge brood in a 2 bedroomed house with nothing to talk about. It worked like a charm, and as children we heard of their adventures, particular when my mother won a free ticket to Disneyland, thousands of times.

My mother always said that San Francisco was her favourite city, though, she found it hard to articulate why. Something quintessentially European, liberal, sunny and happy. Then my father lent me Walter Mosley's Cinnamon Kiss, which is based in and around San Francisco, which really turned the heat up. Oh, and I watched The Princess Diaries once. 

I was not disappointed. I keep thinking that if I keep building up these places, one will eventually underwhelm me. Not today people. It was fantastic. From the breathtaking landmarks, which you have seen and million times before, and often wondered if you would see with your bare eyes, to everyday, enchanting exchanges between strangers that you will remember always.

The city was beautiful. The weather was perfect. The people were enchanting. The bike ride across the Golden Gate Bridge was exhausting. The food was wholesome. Izzie (my lovely sister) was hilarious. Alcatraz was haunting. The street art was inspiring. The mood was exhilarating.

(Knitting in cells in Alcatraz - yep, they knew)

...And I put my feet in the Pacific Ocean.

Happiness.