Days of Thunder
Trip Start
Jan 27, 2006
1
11
26
Trip End
Sep 09, 2006
Kuala Lumpar (that's KL to you and us), Malaysia
Monday, March 20, 2006
The staff at the Chinatown Inn - our quiet retreat amidst the Chinese madness of Petling Street - laughed at their drenched new arrivals, happily and helpfully explaining that the downpour would only have lasted another 10 minutes or so.
Settled into dry clothes, we gingerly poked our heads out of the front door to find that the downpour had indeed stopped and that the near-dry streets of Chinatown were now teeming with hawker stalls selling every type of fake designer goods you could think of. Tag Hauer, Madam ? Real Copy, Come and See ! DVDs sir, good porn, American porn ! Vuitton, Gucci, Prada, Nike, Adidas. They must weep. We spent a couple of happy hours bartering for goods we were only mildly interested in, checking 'the quality' of the t-shirts, choosing from Omega or Rolex, and having a thoroughly lovely time feigning mock shock at the first quotes, driving the stall holders to distraction as we walked merrily away. "Sir, Madam, come back, how much you want to pay then ? Pleeeeaaaassse".
With the first practice session of the Grand Prix only two days away, we needed to hit the tourist trail running. The Batu Caves are a KL institution. They sit on the outskirts of the city, a huge network of caverns in a limestone outcrop. They have been turned into a mighty Hindu temple which attracts thousands of worshippers throughout the year, but especially at festival time when huge ceremonies take place amidst wild scenes.
Today wasn't one of these. We happened upon the Caves by accident really. Searching for somewhere to have breakfast, we stumbled past a local bus that was heading for them. The first thing you notice is the flight of 272 steps to the first cave. Well, that was the first thing we noticed. Healthier individuals would no doubt have dismissed our worries, instead gazing in awe at the 15 storey high golden Buddha just to the right. Oh well, you have to know your limitations.
The caves and temples are an intriguing mix of the natural and supernatural. The Hindus love of statues, icons, colour and ceremony has almost overwhelmed the natural beauty of the caves, the dripping stalctites and stalagmites fighting for airtime amidst the countless images of Hindu gods. But it is a great place to visit and we could understand why it is held in such high religious regard.
This outbreak of piety and religious understanding was raised to almost fever pitch when we found out that the organiser of the cracking 'audio tour', Norah, was married to a bloke from Grimsby. Sam nearly fainted with quasi-religious fervour.
How do you follow that ? Another thunderstorm perhaps ? Luckily this time we were in the dry though. 241 metres up the KL tower. It is an incredible experience to watch a huge force of nature in 360 degree technicolour going on around you. We stayed for hours. The stunning Petronas Towers - no more than a kilometre away - were completely obscured as the storm raged around us. Then, as with the storm of the previous day, the clouds rolled away, the haze faded and KL stretched out to the horizon. Privileged to be there.
Day two was spent travelling around the city, riding the skytrain, dipping in and out of air-conned shopping malls and taking in the history of Chinatown. KL is a great mix of new and old, dynamic and laid back in equal measure. It is enchanting and is the first place we have felt that we left too soon.
So, to the Grand Prix. My God it was hot. We spent three t-shirt soaking, overpriced-water drinking, panting-like-mad-dogs days at the Sepang Circuit. And loved every minute of it.
It was so hot (trackside temperatures on race day were almost 50 degrees) that Sam actually gave the Davis knees an airing for the first time, donning a pair of rather fetching shorts she bought in Kuching. Sam's lower legs are legendary for their, erm, English Rose colour. Armed with factor twenty, said limbs have started on their slow path through the Dulux colour chart - from Cadaver Blue to Cornflower White, galloping through Strawberry Milk to their final destination of Brushed Rust. To provide a counterpoint to these pastel shades, Sam's nose and my forehead turned Baboons Arse Red. And that was sitting in the shade.
Practice Day was good. Qualifying Day - with the help of a cheap FM radio, our Ipod earphones and the ITV commentary team - was great. Race Day was fan-bleeding-tastic. The race crowd is wonderful. Allegiances are for teams rather than drivers. Ferrari attracts huge number of fans - they are the Manchester United of racing (i.e. more non-Italians support them than Italians). The Brits support Williams and Mclaren - perennial under-achievers. Honda is exclusively supported by the Japanese who deck themselves out in every piece of treble-priced clobber they can find. But not the Finns. They don't give a stuff for the constructors, they just LOVE KIMI!!!!!!!!!!!!! Which is a huge shame for the three delightful guys in front of us who spent the weekend waving flags, wearing blue and white hats and chanting his name, only for their unsmiling, accident-prone hero to spin off precisely 23 seconds into the first lap. Dumbfounded doesn't begin to describe it.
The result ? Fisichella, Alonso, Jenson .
It was heaven. We got caught in our fourth thunderstorm in five days going home. Days of Thunder, indeed.
