British Girl Office Super Powers

Until I lived overseas I never really considered the effect that my nationality had on my behaviour. Believing in individuality and free will, I didn't believe that I was distinctly British in any way. Infact, I never even knew what "being British" involved. But a recent essay that I had to write as part of my Post-Graduate Certificate on project management in cross-cultural teams has forced me to consider how my culture and up-bringing have affected my work-style and mannerisms. In addition, and lucky for you here, I have started to notice very special British-Girl Office Super Powers that I didn't even know I had, and for your pleasure, here they are.

1. Fire-Proof Fingers

This is something that I'm quite sure that only British Girls can do. My fingers have almost no heat-sensitivity. This is from years and years of lifting teabags out of mugs of boiling hot water, from being too lazy to get up and get a spoon. This has now become one of my top office-tricks. Especially as I can squeeze the steaming teabag with my bear fingers so that not a drop of tea is wasted.

2. Light-Free Photosynthesis

British girls don't need light to photosynthesize and turn carbon dioxide into energy and oxygen. It's quite something, and sometimes may have to be seen to be believed, but another thing that no one seems to understand in my workplace is that I can walk into my office (which has no natural lighting) at 8am and can leave at 7:30pm, having never left the building. Everyone else goes out for lunch at restaurants for three courses of brilliance - but my British work mentality makes me happiest with my packed lunch and a quick skip though online newspapers from home and emails to my friends. I know it's not so sociable, but sometimes I don't feel so sociable, not with my face-to-face colleagues, anyway. Before, my behaviour had gone largely un-noticed, but now with no-one taking lunch breaks through Ramadan... people are on to me. I just tell them I'm from the UK; our Vitamin D comes from tablets and our tans come from bottles.

3. Flawless Manners

Learning, understanding and being capable of explaining the offside rule is a special talent of any British Girl. You should develop this skill young, to avoid hours and hours of lads in the pub explaining it to you endlessly "Someone, pass me the salt! We need two more things! have you finished with that glass? Can I borrow it? Right. Are you concentrating?". Seriously, it's not rocket science. I think people pretend not to understand the offside rule because they think it makes them look cute. Please. If Wayne Rooney can understand the offside rule, then by not grasping this concept, you make yourself look like a neanderthal. Obviously, I got it down.This reflects in my professional life, and not only when performing manual tasks and noting the position of other colleagues so that you don't swing a meeting chair into their heads. It transcends to workplace etiquette. It's throughout impolite to loudly close a massive deal that you had no part in negotiating or setting up. The offside rule, is really just good manners.

4. Eloquence
"Ahh, but English is my Mother Tongue..." is one of my favourite catchphrases at work, and although people often dive back into their venacular languages when with co-patriates, the true nuances of the English language are really only understood by Brits, and furthermore British Girls. Take the work "Great" for example. The best thing is that only other British people know the true meaning of Great. When I say "Great" is never positive, "great" can usually be translated as "really? you want me to do that? seriously? well that has wrecked my whole day". Of course, my manager thinks I'm delighted. The weighted sarcasm of the word "Great" for the British can be most strongly felt in the title of our country. And with that, it's time for a musical interlude, only if you like grime (not for you, Nan):

Scorzayee - Great Britain

5. ...And I get all my power from British Music.
So yesterday was Friday and so I was fasting like a Muslim.  Around 5pm is the worst time. You feel so weak and spaced out and you still have almost 3 hours to go. I have a massive conference on Monday, and being an all-hands-on-deck, I'm-the-youngest-in-the-office kinda girl, I don't mind getting my hands dirty and doing a bit of admin-y stuff from time to time. So I was exhausted and dizzy, but I had a stack of stapling to do. I reached for my headphones and put on some Drum & Base, notably, Katy B - Broken Record, and Chase & Status - Time, and wow, I was on fire. I declared loudly that I actually think it's easier to go a day without water than a day without music. Maybe I'll try a day without music... but it sounds like actual hell.

In the Summertime, when the weather is high...

One of the best things about Ramadan in Tunisia (besides the brik à l'œuf every single night - no joke, on the fourth day, I realised I had eaten one every single day so far and had to take a vow of abstinence against those little critters) is the Festival of Carthage, a big, international music festival hosted at the Roman Amphitheatre in the suburb of Carthage.

On Saturday night, we trotted along to see the American band, OneRepublic. For me, as a non-fan, it's surprising that it was not actually my first time seeing them, I'd already had the pleasure in 2008 at the One Big Weekend in Kent. Back then, they just had one song. Now they have a load more, and a load of International fans. Who'd have thought that five years later, I'd be watching them in North Africa, in an outdoor Roman Amphitheatre, in the rain? The moment was not lost on me. Stop and Stare indeed.

Then, last night, it was the turn of the Jamaican, reggae artist, Shaggy.

Oh, hello Shaggy!

There is a gigantic mosque in Carthage that I run past on every single running day. It used to be named after Tunisia's no-longer-popular-at-all, former president, but his name has now been scrubbed out on all of the direction signs. Ramadan dictates that people break fast at home, and then can go along to Tarawih (this is an Arabic word that my colleagues make me practice after I mispronounce it every morning) prayers, which usually last about two hours. Following this, families tootle down to the theatre with their cushions to sit on, and a sing-along spirit. Perfect, perfect.

So yesterday Shaggy popped along to deliver us some tasty, Caribbean beats, as we sweat it out, dancing in the hot, African night air.

And The Worst Moment? As Mr Boombastic flowed into Oh Carolina, my friend who is always late to everything, but whose ticket I was holding, arrived and I had to run like Usain Bolt, out of the stands and back to the entrance to let him in. Missed it. Balls.

But The Best Moment? The banter.

Thank you Tunisia!!! Shout out to all the Tunisians in here tonight!!! (Mad applause)

And I know we have some Africans in here!! Is anyone here from Africa?!?

Ahh, the age old: Tunisia is a country and Africa is a country and Tunisia is not in Africa. Dynamite.

Well, Shaggy, get yourself an education. Africa was the name that the Romans gave to Tunisia once they destroyed Carthage at the end of the Third Punic War in 146BC. The Afri tribe was the Latin name for the Carthaginians, so naturally Africa mean "Land of the Afri".

And in Africa, in the remains of the seats of the Carthaginians and Romans, we all sat, stood, clapped, danced, cheered and sang:  

"...But she caught me on the counter..."

It wasn't me...

Rama-doing it!

On Friday, I did it. I fasted like my place in Paradise depended on it. It was mainly due to peer-pressure and feeling left out. Everyone in my office was fasting and it looked like so much fun. Okay, not fun, but it certainly looked like they were going through something, I couldn't help but want to be a part of that. So I decided to dive in head first, to go for it. To spend all the daylight hours of Friday neither drinking or eating.

My preparation was a bit shoddy. I went out for work dinner the night before, so with some typical slow and lethargic Tunisian table service, we were still eating at midnight. But I was drinking alcohol, which probably didn't help with the dehydration. I didn't get up for Suhoor, which in Tunisia, you have to stop eating by 3:30. I was already proper full from dinner. I just went to bed after several glasses of water and hoped for the best.

Here's a wee account of my day:

7:00am

I work up with a dry mouth and it was strange not to drink straight away. I had lots more time in the morning without making tea and sitting to eat breakfast. I even straightened my hair and went to work looking like a girl. I didn't feel especially hungry when I woke up, though I did have a thirst, which was strange not to quench. I brushed my teeth. More than once. Ramadan breath is legendary.

9:00am

I had a meeting at work. A room of cakes, pastries and hot coffee. I took a picture so that you can share in the pain.

Plenty of people were fasting, so I didn't really mind. Lots of people knew I was planning to fast, so I felt that I couldn't back down in front of them.

11:00am

My stomach was growling like a crazy thing. I was still in the meeting and the cakes were now looking really appealing. I try to stay calm and focused and luckily had lots to do, so the business kept me sane.

12:00pm

Someone said to me: "oh, are you fasting?" I was surprised that he knew, given that I don't quite look like your average Muslim. He says: "you have the glow"

1:00pm

At lunchtime, everyone went for lunch or to the mosque. I started getting an almighty headache. My mouth was dry and my lips were starting to chap. Concentrating was harder and I felt more tense. It really was the thirst. I wasn't hungry at all.

3:00pm

My office mate said: "Wow, your exhaustion is very transparent, I like how you are so expressive". I think he means stop complaining. My head aches and my mouth feels disgusting.

5:00pm

I feel okay, the end is in sight. I declare to everyone how okay I feel and then continue to work and feel spaced out. It was so hard to concentrate.

6:00pm

I started talking to Alli (my Ugandan, Muslim colleague who I share my office with) excitedly about Ugandan food. Before we can restrain ourselves, we're on facebook, looking at one of another colleague's recent photo albums from a trip to Uganda. Soon we're drooling over pictures of chicken luwombo, matooke, g-nut sauce. Time to go home.

Selfie at home, still going strong - looking a bit wiped out:

7:45pm

It was time to break the fast. I had been invited to dinner with some Muslim clients, but in my hazy, dehydrated state, I went gone to the wrong restaurant. There were now no cabs on the road and I walked for ages to find one. I finally flagged one down, and the driver thinks I'm insane on account of my wild enthusiasm. Finally arrive at the right restaurant at...

8:15pm

...and promptly down two glasses of water. I don't even feel that hungry, but the water tastes amazing. Then I broke the fast the traditional Tunisian way, with Chorba soup, Tunisian salads and Brik. Then I had fish and chips. Then cake. Then I started to feel okay again.

Wow. It was a ride. It was made easier by the fact that it was just one day, knowing that tomorrow, I could eat and drink as I pleased certainly made it better. But wow. The big thing was the dehydration. I kept feeling thirsty and standing up to go to the water fountain without even thinking about it. Then having to force myself to sit back down again. Discussing it with my colleague, Abdel, he said:

"Look, the water is just there, you can drink it if you want, but try not to. This is to teach us compassion. Many people live in the world and have limited access to water and only eat one meal a day."

He's very wise.

In Tunisia the first couple of weeks of Ramadan are all about families. Traditionally people eat the feast while watching a special TV shows that only gets shown during Ramadan. So imagine my delight that every table at the restaurant had it's own TV! I sneaked a picture:

Then the next morning I got up and did my longest run ever! It was so so hot. I melted - look at how swollen my hand is!

24.5km! and yes. I have amazing nails. Thanks.

Here's my melting face - delicious!!

Rama-done (until next Friday)

Ramadan Kareem!

We are in Ramadan! It just started, we are just a few days in. The daily sunsets, the Tarawih prayers at the Mosques, the eerie quiet on the streets, this is a dreamy time of year.

By daylight, the Muslims fast, no food, water. Normally the fast is broken with dates and water, before feasting on your national delicacies, in Tunisia it's Brik, Chorba soup, Tajine (which is like a fritatta) and sweet pastries. I've been invited for some Iftars so I'll update you accordingly, as and when. I'm planning on fasting Fridays as a cultural experience. I'm doing this mainly for the amusement of the four Muslim colleagues that I share my office with. I think without food, I'll be okay. I think without water, it will be hell.

This week, has been a big week for talking about Islam in the office. We had a Muslim-off where we competed to name the different Islamic months, needless to say, I didn't win. Then I got a big lesson on Women's rights and Islam (which I'm quite sure I didn't ask for!) and I was told that sexism in Saudi Arabia is caused by tradition and the Prophet's wife was actually a business woman who rode a horse and the Prophet actually worked for her. From horse riding, we got on to Game of Thrones, which my colleagues (all men) have decided to stop watching during Ramadan as it makes fasting that little bit more difficult (oh yes, it's not just food and drinks we are fasting...).

But the general feeling is excitement. My general feeling is fear, at sharing an office with four, hungry, thirsty, un-caffinated men... I'll let you know how it goes.

In other news, I have been away for centuries!! I'm so sorry, let me just give you a quick round up of some of the other fun activities that I have been up to...

Training in Hammamet

Now I've already taught you all about Hammamet, but I just spent another week down there on a training course. It was extra fun because we were allowed to bring our families, and they could sit by the pool all day, while we filled our brains with all sorts of nonsense. In lieu of my own family, I just borrowed a bit of everyone else's and spent the long evening testing my American colleague's daughter on her SAT words - I knew hardly ANY of them!! It was quite traumatic. Luckily, she was a smartie pants, so she'll be just fine in her exams.

I spent some time by the pool and at the beaches. The tourists aren't really about, so it was lots of Tunisians at the beach - lots of Burkinis!

You wanna see a selfie of me enjoying the sunshine? Yes you do! because I am a rockstar, pure and simple, and I am fuelled by your jealousy.

I also spent loads of time researching for my essay and revising French because I had a massive french exam... more on this in a hot minute.

Total Tophet-Tastic

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Jess left Tunis. This was her second placement here, and last time she came, she was involved in the attack on the American Embassy and was trapped in the shelter inside for several hours, before, being shipped off to Germany, and then Poland. I promised her that she would have a good send off this time, although I couldn't guarantee the drama and excitement of last time.

So we went to the Punic Port and the Tophet at Carthage. It was after work and both were shut, but some smiles and some dinars managed to grease those gates back open. It was quiet, tranquil, the sun was setting... it was all very dramatic. And we had whiskey. In plastic bottles.

The remains of the Punic Port, from around 300BC are clear and visible, you can climb all over those monsters. In its hayday, the area hosted up to two hundred of the biggest and most fearsome warships of the time. Now it's overgrown and breezy and you really do wish you had bought a picnic.

Afterwards we went to the Tophet. Woah kids, this is not for the faint-hearted. I was scared. Here is a list of things that I fear:

1. Cochroaches

2. Changing a light bulb when you can't remember if you left the light on or off

3. Infant Burial sites at sundown.

This was a solid case of number 3. 

The Tophet is the site of a Punic infant burial site, where babies and young children were sacrificed to the goddess Tanit (the sky goddess of Carthage) and the god Baal (the god of rain). The excavations are on three levels, showing three separate uses of the site, and remains of both children and animals, have been found. I can't even begin to imagine what went down in Phoenician Carthage. Standing here, on the same ground, under the same sun... makes my brain explode.

Then we did more cheerful activities, like go for coffee and then go to my most favourite, lovely pants, fish restaurant where I haven't been for about 100 years. Everyone thought we were lost finding it, but I knew the way all along and just followed my heart. Everyone's expectations were exceeded. They should learn to trust me.

Massive French Exam

Then after that, I went for it and took the Diplôme d'études en langue française (DELF) exam, level B1. It was the one that I had postponed from March (actually, although I didn't want to do it, it was actually written in the stars because they didn't have any space left for my class to enrol in March anyhow). 

The exam was written for me. The listening was really fast and horrible, but one of the reading articles was on the growth of popularity of handcrafts in post-recession France. Knitting? Beautiful. The writing was okay, it's always hard, because I have quite an imagination, and lack the vocabulary to support it.

I had to go back the next day for my oral exam and there are all different parts, but at the end, you have to give a speech. Mine was on whether or not mathematics should be compulsory for all university entrants. Beautiful. 

I did my best. I hope it was enough. Fingers crossed.

Hen Party Madness

And then... as if that wasn't enough excitement - I went to the UK last weekend for a Hen Party as my friend Gemma is getting hitched, later this summer. It was in London, and I just flew in on Friday and out on Sunday. London was beautiful. So warm and gorgeous and sunny, for a split second I forgot about the 11 months a year of grey skies and almost thought that I could move back. Almost.

So I've been having a problem with all these hen parties. We always seem to do nice, classy activities, like afternoon tea, or spa days, or Britney Spears Dance Classes... can you see me?

There are no willy straws, no drunk mother-in-laws-to-be learning way too much information about their new daughter-in-law, and much to my perpetual disappointment, no strippers. These are all things that I would want need at any Hen party of my own (pending on finding someone mental enough to agree to marry me in the first place).  I spent a long time thinking about this (or strippers generally) over the weekend, and asked the other married girls about their hen parties. Similar stuff; photo treasure hunts, fancy dinners, cupcake making classes... then it hit me... this is possibly why no one has/will ever marry me. Note to self... be more classy.

Needless to say, I completed the obligatory fancy-dress night out sitting on the floor, picking off my eyelashes. At least it was the floor of someone's house and not a kebab shop. 

Baby steps...

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!