Sao Paulo and the Grand Prix

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This blog was written back on the 1st November. Finally I have a moment to upload it.

Its been a long time since my last blog which, if I remember correctly ´finished up at the Christ Redeemer statue in Rio. A lot has happened since.

We spent a little longer in Rio than we had first hoped, mostly lazing on Ipanema beach or wandering the streets of Copacobana, by the following Monday we felt it was about time to head south along the coast to the island of Illah Grande. We woke up around 4.30 that morning, my head still a little sore from the Saturday previous, we clambered, half unwittingly into the back of our minibus and left on the 3 hour journey. The idea of sleep on that journey was soon substituted by the realisation that the roads in Brazil rival, in smoothness, that of the surface of the moon throwing us back and forth against windows, seats and armrests. Instead we were treated to a stunning sunrise as we wound our way around the rugged Atlantic coastline and we were soon at our first port of call, the ferry terminal. Here we snatched a quick bite for breakfast and jumped on our boat. Here we managed an hour of so´s kip and we were soon in Illah Grande.
Illah Grande is an island about 5 miles by 5 miles. In years gone by it had been a holding bay for slave trade vessels and their workers. By the 19th century it had become a hang out for pirates and smugglers. Then, up until 1994, it had been the site of on of Brazils, and therefore the worlds, most notorious jails. Despite this rich history however, little was offered in terms of museums or tours. Instead people nowadays travel to the island for its stunning beaches and views. The island boasts, according to a European poll, the worlds 3rd best beach, Lopez Mendez, and they were not wrong. It was undoubtedly the best beach I have ever been to. The sand was a pearly white and felt like a carpet underfoot. The sea shone crystal clear as the surrounding mountains and cliff tops loomed high over the coastline.
I had decided to take the 6 mile jungle trek from our pleasant, moderately priced hostel to the beach. Despite the 36 degree heat it was well worth it. Plenty of wildlife, secluded beaches and amazing views sprinkled the route with not a single other person in sight.
Despite an initial few days of overcast weather the sun came out and we all left Illah Grande having had a great time, as we left the port and headed back to Rio I decided it was just as well that Lopez Mendez was only the 3rd best beach in the world. I wouldn’t want to go to the 1st just yet; I would never go to one better.
When we returned to Rio deja vu set back in, lazing on Ipanema and wandering the streets of Copacobana and we decided it was time to move on. Conveniently the final Grand Prix was being held in Sao Paulo (about 5 hours coach ride west of Rio) and so our next port of call was decided for us.
We left Rio just in time to see the qualifying stages of the race. Just four points separated the two championship contenders Lewis Hamilton, from England, and the Brazilian hero Felipe Massa. We were in for a nerve-racking day.
We woke up early that Sunday and jumped into a cab headed for the Interlagos circuit. The place was buzzing even 4 hours prior to the race as we circled the lap in search of a ticket to tout. No joy. In the mean time however we had had plenty of approaches by vendors selling Ferrari caps, rain protectors, and umbrellas and had even been the unlikely starts of a Spanish news television broadcast. 5 paisty Brits in a sea of red Ferrari caps, flags and Felipe Massa merchandise chanting Ha-mil-ton, Ha-mil-ton! In Hindsight not my finest hour and hopefully not my only 15 minutes of fame.
The race started, we were parked ba a huge television screen just outside the track along the home straight, the scream of F1 engines rawing past every minute or so. The crowd looked anxious but confident, albeit in a friendly manner, jeers were directed our way everytime Hamilton dropped time on a lap or overstayed Massa´s pit stop time. Massa on home tarmac was away and unmatchable. It was down to Hamilton and McClaren to finish in a top 5 position to claim the title and break history. 4 laps to go Hamilton was safe and it seemed only a matter of time until he would lift the trophy. Then, contrary as ever to Brazilian weather forecasting’s the heavens opened. Engineers rushed to change their vehicles to wet tires, all but one anyway, Timo Glock who was ahead of Hamilton. Then Hamlton fell into 6th position and out of the title place, it was over, caps pulled down to mask our blatant identity the place erupted into rapturous applause, jumping, bundling and hugging as beer cups were thrown in every direction. As we reared out heads to confirm the inevitable the time board flashed up, Glock´s failure to change tires had lost him, valuable time and on the final turn into the home straight on the final lap of the final Grand Prix of the season Hamilton overtook to finish in 5th and to finish the dreams of the already celebrating Brazillians. Now everyone was cheering as the Brazillians had failed to take note of the final standings, they continued to jeer much to our enjoyment. As the news slowly filtered through a crowd in excess of 1000 people hands in the air turned to hands in heads and attention slowly turned to the English lads still jumping and cheering like a Luton fan celebrating a goal in the Rookery. That was the point at which we decided to make a swift exit and in the relative safety of a roadside bar further up the street we toasted the British win with a few guys from Newcastle we had met in Illah Grande. Then we toasted a few more times.
We woke up early the next day to arrange our flights to Manaus, Amazonia for the following day. We then headed to the city centre to do the sights and catch up with a few articles that needed purchasing. We visited the largest cathedral in Latin America before ascending a replica version of the Empire State Building for views across the sprawling metropolis that is Sao Paulo.

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