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Saturday, August 31, 2019

Cadiz (Spain) - Jerez de la Frontera (Spain) - Gadir

Cadiz (Spain) - Jerez de la Frontera (Spain)

31 August 2019

Cadiz, the province and city on Spain’s south western edge is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in Europe. Constantly overlooked and often forgotten by the glistening prizes within Spain and in countries further afield, is stands proudly looking out onto the Atlantic Ocean.

We drove south of Sevilla a couple of hours to get the feel of another Andalusian city, and in one sense, were not disappointed by what the Old Town delivered, narrow streets, the antiquity of its old quarters, white washed Gothic and Baroque styling.

Cadiz - Andalusia - Spain

Cadiz - Andalusia - Spain

The Southern Spanish sun sparkled and bounced off every façade, so much so that without sunglasses you would have spent the whole time squinting your way through the town.

Somehow for me it was unremarkable. Perhaps I didn’t give it the time or respect that it deserved. Perhaps its secrets will be discovered another day.

Cadiz - Andalusia - Spain

Cadiz - Andalusia - Spain

Cadiz - Andalusia - Spain

Cadiz - Andalusia - Spain

A short drive from Cadiz, Jerez de la Frontera captured our attention captured our interested by the very nature of its most well-known product, sherry. However, driving into the town in early afternoon it felt as though COVID-19 has come to this little corner of the world a year early. Not a soul on the deserted streets, not a stray dog to be seen, not a bird in the sky. Siesta time in these parts of Andalusia are more than just theoretical notions, they’re standard operating procedure.

Jerez de la Frontera - Andalusia - Spain

Jerez de la Frontera - Andalusia - Spain


Jerez de la Frontera - Andalusia - Spain

Attractive in part, understated and quaint. A viable stop for to partake in the gold standard of the area.

In all, somewhat of an underwhelming day, but sometimes you just need to hit the reset button

Friday, August 30, 2019

Seville (Spain) - Noche de Sevilla

Seville (Spain)

30 August - 01 September 2019

My first small taste of Seville was beamed to me through an old wooden boxed behemoth of a TV during the 1982 World Cup. The week prior I'd had my seventh birthday and I recall that the cake that my mother had made was a proper football field, everything at the time was World Cup inspired. But on this morning, what was the 9th of July, 1982, in Australia, in a city on the other side of the globe, there was a football match of epic proportions taking place. Of course I was at home watching. It was a World Cup semi-final match that h as come to be known was one of the greatest of all time. The Nacht von Sevilla or the Nuit de Sevilla brought both exaltation and extreme despair, depending on whether the colour of shirt you were wearing was either white or black.

Plaza de Espana - Seville - Andalusia - Spain


Plaza de Espana - Seville - Andalusia - Spain


Plaza de Espana - Seville - Andalusia - Spain

That morning my father was at work but I remember him calling a few times to get the score updates.

Dad - 'What's the score now Henry?'

Me - '2-1'

Dad- 'For the blues or the whites'

Me - 'The whites'

Back then, in my household, we were out and out supporters of West Germany. Not that I completely understood what that meant but I did not that once the blue team went up 3-1 and part of the stadium was in hysteria, that the white team weren't exactly achieving what they had set out to do.


Plaza de Espana - Seville - Andalusia - Spain


Inga, Zaiga & Aiva - Plaza de Espana - Seville - Andalusia - Spain


Plaza de Espana - Seville - Andalusia - Spain

A 3-1 lead with 18 minutes of extra-time to play. Where in the realms of footballing fantasy does anybody does anyone conjure up the framework and execution whereby the team leading at that point in time goes onto lose. It would be akin to standing on the podium at a medal presentation ceremony and having a random interloper snatch your property from the space between the hands of the presenter and your neck. You'd have a better chance of defeating a guillotine than losing a World Cup semi-final from this position.

God Bless the French though, they crafted a defeat of such majesty and torment, such pitiful glory. 

Post penalty shoot-out my dad called in to get the result. He simply did not believe what his 7 year old son was telling him. It's like all the knowledge that I had of football at that age was completely dismissed as the result that I was broadcasting and what he had expected from 20 minutes earlier could not be reconciled.

Unknowingly, that had been my introduction to Seville, and World Cup football


Family photo - Plaza de Espana - Seville - Andalusia - Spain

Plaza de Espana - Seville - Andalusia - Spain

Hard Rock Cafe - Seville - Andalusia - Spain

Like most places that I've ever had any sort of attachment to, I'd somehow been emotionally invested with a location long before my first visit and real experience. Whilst the wait for Sevilla had been long and had taken many twists and turns prior to now, she had made it worth the wait.

Each Spanish city that I have encountered has had its own feel. Certainly there are some similarities between Madrid & Barcelona & San Sebastian & Seville, but there are certainly many difference. Sevilla was something unexpected.

Medieval lanes leading to quite corners and open plazas, baroque churches, Gothic cathedrals, its beating sun and pulsating flamenco driving its tortured soul. Slowly but ever so surely the beauty in this city envelopes you and leaves an indelible print. The juxtaposition of Moorish and Gothic architectural influences overlaid by the vibrant, energetic lifestyle of the Spanish themselves, just makes this yet another highlight in a country that feels like a perpetual highlight reel.


Seville - Andalusia - Spain


Seville - Andalusia - Spain


Seville - Andalusia - Spain

Plaza de Espana takes pride of place in any Google search where the subject is Sevilla.  A glorious piece of architecture, laid out on a huge half circle, its buildings made accessible by four ornate bridges that guide you over a large moat. Punctuated by a number of alcoves that are fabulously tiled with representations of the regions of Spain, this space is incredibly stunning and lends itself easily to taking photos. The beating sun of the early morning even complemented the surrounds and underpinned what you expected to get from an Andalusian experience.


Las Setas de Sevilla - Andalusia - Spain

Seville - Andalusia - Spain


Plaza del Triunfo - Seville - Andalusia - Spain


Plaza del Triunfo - Seville - Andalusia - Spain


Plaza del Triunfo - Seville - Andalusia - Spain

A city with its own identity, one that moves subtly, passionately and soulfully in every aspect. You sense it within the bars of an evening, from the venues where the sounds of flamenco drift with purpose onto the streets and simply in the life that pervades this marvellous city.

It's true, of course I'm a sucker for anything Spanish, but certainly there is a reason for that. They have identified the importance of beauty, passion, life and laughter. This is distilled and uniquely represented in the architecture, artistry and way of life. Sometimes your way just finds alignment to a way that exists on the other side of the world. It may be in Argentina, it may be in Brazil or it may in Spain...or it just may be in Sevilla.

Thursday, August 29, 2019

Seville (Spain) - A day in the life of an upper cut!

Seville (Spain)

29 August – 01 Sep 2019

To quote Don Henley;

 ‘In a New York minute everything can change, In a New York minute, Things can get pretty strange

The 29th of August commenced under the auspices of a typical transit day. The intended logistics of that morning were for us to collectively move out if our rented apartment on the edge of Plaza Santa Ana and take the high-speed train down south, to the heart of Andalusia, Sevilla.

Travel and transit are known to be my domain. When it comes to organisation, connections, dependency on accommodation, arranging rooms, things to see, orientation in a city, more often than, ownership and responsibility resides with me. I feel comfortable in that role, which is to say more pointedly, I don’t trust the ability of anyone in my family to do the job to my standard…although, there are some ‘up and comers’ in the ranks.

On this day we were fortunate. A disaster was averted  by a relatively small margin.

As anticipated, our apartment pick-up ran smoothly, the transit to Madrid’s Atocha Central station was also smooth, even the much maligned passing through security was an actual breeze ,and then, we did one final passport check.

Inga to Henry ‘Do you know where you put your passport?’

Which I immediately took to mean – it’s not where I usually leave it, i.e., the passport folder that contains all our passports?

No. It wasn’t there.

This situations triggers 'ALERT LEVEL 2' and instigation of the bag search. Initiated in a fairly relaxed mode, each passing minute without success translated into increased levels of anxiety and frustration. This continued for several minutes until someone had to make the call. There was no denying the situation, we had stepped into the universe of one missing Australian passport. And one down in a situation such as this means all down.

Situations like this commonly challenge my mental outcome simulator to oscillate between past potential fact and future potential prediction. Meaning, that all at once the scenarios of where the passport could possibly be, and, what could happen if I don’t have my passport, play out in one rapid fire game of scenario dodgem.

Past potential fact scenarios–

1.  (1)  Perhaps I left it on the seat pocket in the flight from Lisbon? I know I saw it there at some point during the flight and I convinced myself to move it to a more memorable location  the seat-back pockets are both the easiest and dumbest place to forget personal belongings.

2.   (2) Did I leave it in the taxi as I made my way from the airport to the centre of Madrid?

3.   (3) Did I leave it in the apartment which we had just left?

4.   (4)  Could it possibly in one of our bags that commonly does not carry my passport?

Scenario 1 & 3 seemed most likely, with 3 out in front as a clear favourite due to my vague recollection of the passport appearing on the nightstand at some point during our stay.

Future potential prediction - 

1.   (1) Take the train down to Sevilla and go to the Australian consulate, if indeed there was one there.

2.    (2Go back to the apartment and search the premises

3.    (3) Go to the Australian embassy in Madrid and organise a replacement

The future potential prediction also caused much logistical concern in my mind. Without a passport I couldn’t get out of the country, which really, was not particularly stressful to me but I had other people that needed me to get them from Sevilla to Barcelona via Malaga where they had booked flights to get them back home in a few days time. Additionally, it would be unfair to have everyone tied up in Madrid until the mess was sorted out. Quickly thinking through each option I made the assumption that could back to the apartment, option (2), but this in itself would be futile in that now, having to organise the owner to arrive, and, me waiting around hours on end for a potential nil result meant that it wasted time against what would be the most assured and essentially logical  decisions– actually going to the embassy in Madrid and obtaining a replacement passport. 

So I called the embassy, it was a Friday. 

They advised that they could produce a replacement on the day but that I had to make it there in the next few hours, also, they made me aware that the embassy was closed on the weekends. My hand had now been forced.

I scooped up the family, pushed them through the barricades and sent them on their way to Sevilla. I in turn jumped a cab out of the city to the ‘Gates of Europe’ – the twin towers in Madrid, where the Australian embassy was located.

At this point in time I felt like I was in an episode of the Amazing Race – queue Phil Keoghan - ‘In this leg teams will be asked to head to the Australian Embassy where they will be asked to present themselves in order to obtain an Australian passport, failure to obtain the correct documentation will spell disaster. The last team to finish may be eliminated’


Sevilla Santa Justa station - Sevilla - Spain

Messafe from Inga, apartment details - Sevilla - Spain


Apartment view - Sevilla - Spain

Certainly, if I couldn’t an emergency passport in time or if there was any extended delay then the rest of our ‘locked in’ plans for Spain would come falling down like a house of cards. There was only one way to get this done, successfully.

If you’ve ever walked into an embassy on foreign soil, be it your own or that of another country, there is an overt sense of patriotism underpinned by nationalistic paraphernalia that is meant to impart a certain feeling and notion of that country. I’d been to several US embassies over the last few years. Their over the top security, good ‘ole red, white & blue flags, as well their regal style of presidential portraiture wreaks of self-appreciation and grandeur. The Serbian embassy is socialist in style and make-up, basic furnishings, ridiculous paperwork, disinterested security. The Australian consulate in Madrid was as I expected, a little formal, very friendly in approach, decorated with kitsch Australiana. The ‘G’day’ greeting was enough to give me a little slice of home and make me feel like I could sort the situation out relatively quickly, and by the natural course of things, that’s the way it worked. All I need to do was get a few passport photos, pay $250 and by tomorrow I’d have a temporary passport in my hands. Too easy.

Edificio La Adriatica en Avenida de Constitucion - Sevilla - Espana

I headed out to get myself a few passport photo from a photographer recommended by the embassy. In the time it took to locate the photographer, get the photos and be on my way back I had received a call from the embassy telling me that Inga has located my passport, hidden in one of our travelling magazines apparently…

From here on out my day was quite pleasant. A drop in at the Madrid Hard Rock for a couple of margaritas and obligatory shirt purchase, a quick ride to Atocha station, and just like that, I was zipping south towards the Andalusian city of Seville.


Edificio La Adriatica en Avenida de Constitucion - Sevilla - Espana

Picking a rental car at Sevilla Santa Justa station, my brain needed to locate the ‘driving on the right side skill-set’ that I’d left behind some 18 months prior. As the old cliché goes, it really is like getting back on that bike again. The most stressful thing about driving in a city you don’t know is that you have no reference to the tricks and snippets of insider information that can get you to your location. 100% dependency on a GPS will inevitably run you into one way streets, closed streets and dead ends, which in Seville means you might find yourself driving into a public square – not the most astute position to find yourself in an era of lone wolf terrorist attacks.

With good grace and intuition I finally landed in a parking station that was close enough to our AirBnB to be considered viable. Seville, Henry Elisher had finally arrived.

Monday, August 26, 2019

Madrid (Spain) - Haven't we met?

Madrid (Spain)
26 Aug – 29 Aug 2019


Airport lounges are the best, even if you don’t quite get the value out of them that you might anticipate, they do a lot of good for an over-burdened, over-tired and sometimes underwhelmed traveller.



In recent years Inga and I have taken to paying for entry into lounges when our transit time has been 3hrs or more. Aside from the free flowing drinks and buffets, which when you consider it, probably betters the cost and comfort of most airport restaurants/bars.  So let me tell you what the upside is when it comes to parting with $50-$80 to access a lounge.
  • Avoidance of duty free, which immediately negates unnecessary spending
  • Comfort, both in avoidance of foot traffic but more importantly, a place to stretch out and relax
  • Reliable WiFi
  • Reliable service
  • Reading material
  • Showers, amenities, and all things hygiene related
    • And even though I’ve mentioned it, free flowing drinks and food. Have three drinks, a bite to eat and you’ve made your money in an instant

I spent a blissful 3hrs guzzling GnT’s and making unnecessary trips to the dessert bar of the Al Raheem lounge in Abu Dhabi as I waited for my next jump to Amsterdam. With my flight departing at 02:05 the next morning  those blissful G'n'T’s also instigated a welcoming snooze that sent me off to the land of Nod right up until 1hr prior to departure, perfect timing.
A quick boarding process, more snoozing and there I was landing, at Amsterdam’s Schipol airport at 06:50 which in itself gave me flashbacks to late 2014 when I was making my whirlwind trip to Paris, via Amsterdam, in order to have my first date with Inga. Now here I was, just under 5 years later, flying out to Madrid in order to catch up with Inga and my 5 month old son Aiden. Sometimes the whole ride of how we got to now still amazes me.


Battling through the Schengen to Non-Schengen queue at Schipol was a nuisance, but another necessary hurdle for me to overcome in my ‘hop-step-skip’ approach to getting to Madrid, and so it was, with Abu Dhabi & Amsterdam out of the way, all that I need was to skip right on through Lisbon and ‘hey presto’, 'we'd have had airplane rides and Spain appearing out the window side' -  thank you to the Counting Crows for that line.


Flying over Amsterdam - Netherlands

There’s something about Spanish speaking countries that makes me feel good. It activates another part in my mind which both comforts and invigorates me. Understanding the language of course plays a large part in that, so it’s the eternal drawcard now, but that’s only a small part of it’s impact. The people, the culture, the food and way of life simply agrees with the type of person that I am, so there’s not defeating that type of kismet.


At this point it had been over six week since I’d bid farewell to Inga & Aiden from Melbourne’s Tullarmarine airport. But finally, standing on the street of Calle Nunez de Arce just off Plaza Santa Anna and buzzing up to the apartment of where we’d be staying for the next few days, it was time to get reacquainted with my family again. In all honesty, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, those first few hours felt a little odd, almost in the same manner when Inga & I met again in Paris after 4 yrs (not quite as extreme obviously). It’s that feeling of knowing of a person without really knowing them. I almost felt like a ‘friend’ visiting another friend than a husband being reunited with his family. After weeks of Skype and phone calls at odd hours, meeting again in person just felt a little detached from the reality that both of us had been living in.  Not that the feeling lasted for long, perhaps a few hours into the early evening and then everything returned to normal.


I have warms feelings for Madrid. I hold it in high regard, and it's very close to being my favourite city in Europe. This was the city where 10 yrs prior I convinced myself that I would learn Spanish, this being my 'punishment' for obnoxiously ordering a beer in English and believing I was justified in doing that. I recall walking out of that bar feeling a sense of shame and convincing myself that I would return to the same bar and make amends. Thankfully I kept my word and did that 2 years later, but, internally, I have been repaying the debt many more times over since then. Admittedly my Spanish should be far better for the time I've dedicated to it over the years but hey, my life isn't over yet.
Knowing Madrid reasonably well and having 3 Latvians and 1 very small Australian that didn’t know the city at all, it was on me to act as tour guide, which in all honesty I love doing.

Our first day was dedicated to a walking circuit that I had mentally planned out a few days prior. Madrid , for the most part, is a very pedestrian friendly town. So walking is not arduous in the slightest. Flat & accessible, I honestly believe that one of the best ways to experience this place is just to walk. So starting in Puerta del Sol we headed to Plaza Mayor, the Palacio Real, walked along the Gran Via and had a stop at one my favourite Rock Cafes (Hard Rock Madrid).

Palacio Real de Madrid from Templo de Debod - Madrid - Spain
The afternoon was dedicated to Retiro Park, which is simply gorgeous. This beautifully maintained, immaculate park in the city centre is a perfect way for Madrilenos to enjoy warm Summer days, bathed under the glorious light directly, or diffused by the abundance of trees. We adopted the local approach and picked our own piece of grass, to be supported by our own bottle of wine and few glasses in the comfort of the wonderful surrounds. A perfect afternoon jaunt in such a regal city.


Our 2nd day in Madrid utilised the services of the ‘Hop-on-Hop-off’ express, which respectfully, whilst handy and a comfort for those that don’t like walking, practically took use along the circuit which I’d introduced to the crew the day before. It did however provide us with the opportunity to visit Templo de Debod, a shrine that was originally located near Aswan Egypt but due to the building of the Aswan Dam, was relocated to, in this case, Madrid, in order to preserve a construct of cultural significance. For me, whilst the story of the Templo and its relocation is impressive, the true drawcard is the view from its standing location in the city, personally a much more impressive feature.
The afternoon I’d dedicated to a culinary stop of significance, El Botin (Sobrino de Botin), understood to be the oldest active restaurant in the world. Founded in 1725, the restaurant, according to the Guinness Book of Records is the oldest, and is famous for two specialities, it’s suckling pig and roasted lamb.


Plaza Mayor - Madrid - Spain

Plaza Mayor - Madrid - Spain







The choice between having a famous meat dish or having another, equally as delectable equivalent is like choosing between favourite children (I’m told), or perhaps choosing between a great white or red wine. When it comes down to it, it’s all about mood and about getting ‘some pork on your fork’, which is where the collective conscious of our tastebuds took us.




The oldest continuously operating restaurant in the world - El Botin - Madrid - Spain

Post our participation in the ongoing achievement of El Botin we all took a leisurely still down to the Prado Museum, recognised as having one of the finest collections of European art, dating back to the 12th century and extended all the way to the 20th. There are extensive works on display, with special significance given to Spanish artists such as Greco, Velazquez and Goya, but includes many other European names such as Bosch, Rubens & Titian amongst others.
Now, the thing about museums of this stature, that have a weight of significance is that without a true dedication by the participant of time and interest, you generally become the tourist of transit. A passenger that places a geographic pin on their mental map of achievements. Unfortunately with a 5 month old and a group of 4 adults, some of whom were not particularly interested in the various displays, our time become more laborious and a quest to resolving logistics rather than anything else. So for me, this top was disappointing in all honesty.


As another gorgeous early Autumn day closed out, Inga and I spent some time in Plaza Santa Ana before heading to the Mercado San Miguel, a real highlight in terms of food, drinks and activity. It’s been a favourite stop of mine in Madrid since my first time here some 10 years ago and it’s just a delight, not only for what’s available but visually, it shows you what a market can be. A real drawcard without needing to have that gritty feel of a typical street market. It’s a neighbourhood focal point and is more of a meeting place in the way that a local bar might be, just that this bar contains a whole range of vendors and you can peruse their wares in comfort before sitting down, grabbing a few snack plates and indulging in your favourite tipple.


Plaza Santa Ana - Madrid - Spain


Plaza Santa Ana - Madrid - Spain

I like this method of living. The late night, food, wine and banter is just right up my alley. It’s a point that I’ve commented on many times before in my blog and I feel the Australian culture in terms of nightlife and the night economy is less for not adopting this Spanish/Latin approach. In Australia we target restriction as the method to prevention where really the shift needs to be both in mentality and opportunity. Wouldn’t we be better served by having restaurants, bars, and all other forms of business open for longer? We have such a fixed mindset that Friday nights and Saturday nights are set as dedicated sessions for drinking that when we press the release valve bedlam ensues. How is it that major European cities operate with much later hours, have bars freely accessible and don’t have the same issue of violence that we have? Unless we’ve deliberately cast ourselves under the guise of a ‘yob’ culture then one of the reasons of our failure is what we bring about by restricting, rather than being more open.




Parque de el Retiro - Madrid - Spain

Parque de el Retiro - Madrid - Spain

Rooftop bar on the Gran Via - Madrid - Spain



Of course in Australia we live in a very typical ‘Nanny State’ where control is exerted under the pretence protection, pandered by bureaucrats who have their own agendas through these controlling methods.

Makes you consider moving – maybe we just might.

Sunday, August 25, 2019

Abu Dhabi (United Arab Emirates) - An immersive experience


ABU DHABI (United Arab Emirates)
25 August 2019

I’ve been living the ‘defacto’ bachelor life for the past six weeks of my existence. Interestingly this is notable in the fact that it’s the first, and probably last occasion in my life when this will ever happen. I’ve never had the opportunity to live alone, there’s simply not been a time in my life, outside of travel, where I’ve walked into my own place and had free reign. But the question is, is there any sort of importance to be placed on being a bachelor for a period of time? Is it a rite of passage that somehow allows one to successfully formulate and identify themselves by their own frames of reference without interference. Is there growth, introspection and a special place for Bikram Yoga in this space of isolation?

F***it, for me it never  really happened and I’ll never know what a 'Bachelor's Life' really means. All I knew for right now was that Inga & Aiden were in Latvia and that my evenings were occupied by uninterrupted Ashes viewings, so the timing of their departure, whilst not emotionally comforting was impeccable regarding my desire to watch 6hrs of cricket a night without family commercials.

Missing the both of them however was not all that entertaining.

As the weeks trawled by and my list of discoveries on the clandestine Melbourne bar list that I put together somehow dwindled to a stall,  I clawed myself onto Etihad Flight EY462 from Melbourne to Abu Dhabi via several champagnes in the Etihad Business Class lounge. I had to make the most of what little time I did have left.


Etihad Business Lounge - Melbourne Tullamarine Airport - Australia
 


Months earlier, when I’d purchased the my flights on Skyscanner I recognised that there was an ‘extended’ 22hr wait in Abu Dhabi between  continental flights. For some, this type of extended layover is always a nuisance, for me, its always an opportunity in waiting!

Arriving in Abu Dhabi at 06:05 on a hazy morning with the beams of an Arabian sun hitting the tarmac adding an orangey hue to everything it adorned, I noticed that the temperature was pushing 35 degrees already. This could mean just one thing for me, Yas Waterpark was going to be the prime destination during this stop.

0605 - Abu Dhabu Al Maktoum International Airport - United Arab Emirates

Booking myself a room at the Premier Inn at the airport for the paltry sum of 250 dirhams for the whole day, I had effectively acquired a room to act as just a storage and shower facility. I knew in myself that the bed would go undisturbed if my plans to remain outside came to full fruition.

Making it to Yas Waterpark by 10am, the sun was already high in the sky, punishing, reinforcing its dominance, showing that it was the true boss of the U.A.E.

That big ball of fury has a presence in this part of the world, like an omnipresent heat force that you find yourself wading through between  over efficiently air conditioned buildings. Somehow at Yas Waterpark, the potential escape within the cool pools, rides and slides was always punctuated by the rapid absorption of water from your body and the perils of judging how far you were capable of walking on burning concrete paths.

For 250 dirhams Yas Waterworld in my estimation 'OK to good', not brilliant, and perhaps not the dynamic excitement machine that was advertised.

After a few hours I’d taken my fill of urine filled pools, 13 yr old kids acting like dumb asses and the pirate and faery princess dressed welcoming committee at the entrance. How they were tied into to the whole Yas Waterworld melange I’ll never quite figure out and dedicating my mental time to solving that task I knew was going to be about as futile as understanding the rationale behind a Trump tweet.


Ferrari World - Abu Dhabi - United Arab Emirates

Ferrari World - Abu Dhabi - United Arab Emirates
 
 
















My next stop however, at what I had assumed would be the underwhelming and highly overpriced Ferrari World, actually turned out to be a little bit of a ‘not-so-hidden’ gem. After having already paid 250dh at Yas Waterpark only an additional payment of 130dh was required for Ferrari World.

Now on first inspection the premises felt like a vacant, vacuous dedication that the manufacturer Ferrari conjured up boast of its eternal relevance. In this sense there should be no misconception, this theme park is exactly that. What makes up for their indulgence and consumer strategy are the rides, of which there are only really four, three of which were functioning when I attended.

Formula Rosso -  Ferrari World - Abu Dhabi - United Arab Emirates

The sign says it all - Formula Rosso -  Ferrari World - Abu Dhabi - United Arab Emirates

Let me say this;

The Formula Rossa is mindblowing.

I’m no roller-coaster aficionado but still, I've been on quite a few in my life. So when I sat in the front seat of what’s proclaimed to be the World’s Fastest Roller Coaster I wasn’t anticipating anymore than then pedestrian style of ride that most fun parks have.

But ...holy sh*t!!!

That coaster train accelerates to its top speed of 240kph in the first 4.9 seconds of the rid!. Your teeth feel as though they’ve hit the back of your throat and the only thing holding your brains in place is the seat head rest behind you. That initial acceleration, especially when sitting in the front seat, literally takes your breath away. As you explode out of the gates you quickly realise that the goggles they provide you are not just a 'fun fact object' that they thought would be a kitsch little accompaniment - you need those bad boys to protect your eyeballs from hitting any stray piece of whatever travelling at 240kph.

There’s only been a few times in my life when I’d almost involuntarily let out a scream of an expletive, with no conscious thought. The first that comes time mind was the scream that accompanied my plummet from the roof of the Moses Mabhida stadium in Durban. On this occasion the ‘Holy Sh*t’ that I let fly came from the g-force and acceleration experienced in those initial take off seconds, leaving you breathless, and it’s only momentarily that somewhere in that initial whirl of adrenalin that you realise the ride flings you 52mtrs straight up at the end of the acceleration ramp! It’s a wild ride, and one that I happily took on another 6-7 times during the course of the hours I stayed there.

I found that the hours at Ferrari World passed easily. Needless to say, the lack of any queues at all made the experience a pleasure. It seems, from the infrastructure in place, that once upon a time there were ambitions for consistently large crowds. I’d say however that form my two experiences there (I also went with Inga & Aiden on the return journey), waits for all rides was no more than 5 mins, at worst.

Getting back to the hotel at around 7pm, I took the opportunity to shower, change and head through customs early, well in advance of my 02:05am flight to Amsterdam. Not that I didn’t make the most of my time, all 3hrs were spent in the Al Raheem lounge with a credible buffet and GnT’s on call. Say what you will, but airport lounges do offer both comfort and requisite refreshments that make waiting for a flight more than tolerable, even enjoyable in many ways.

Some 6.5hrs out of Abu Dhabi and I was touching down at Amsterdam Schipol airport at 06:50 local time.

There was only a short stop here and a minor hassle getting into the Schengen terminal from the Non-Schengen area. Unexpectedly the line and wait time was in the 40 min vicinity and reminded me of the unnecessarily tedious process that would always accompany a transfer through Warsaw.

Still, I made the flight to Lisbon on time. Placing me one step closer to being reunited with my family in Madrid.