It’s the hottest race on earth. And, geographically, it is the closest that the Philippines has ever been to F1. Welcome to Sepang – where the drivers are tough, but the beef Rendang at the buffet is even tougher. Believe me, after sampling the menu at the track’s overpriced (and only) restaurant, I now know where Bridgestone do their tropical tire testing.

Yet despite the FIA approved burgers and the scorching heat, I would still jump at any chance to get to Sepang again. The track layout is among the best in the world; the facilities are first class and spectators are treated to fabulous views from just about any nook and cranny of the spectacular and brilliantly designed facility. Better yet, it is only a sort of domestic flight away from our impoverished roads and the crawling pace of the traffic snarled cities here at home.

This was my second time to the venue but I can’t say I was any less excited. As a matter of fact, this time I was able to take immense pleasure in seeing the faces of my friends who were experiencing the flying circus for the very first time. You will never forget the expression on the face of a person who hears the ear shattering whine of a formula one car, live at full song, for the first time. It’s priceless.

We arrived at the track just in time for qualifying. The heat bordered on unbearable while the humidity just sort of hung in the air like a thick curtain of moisture that was almost tangible. But by this stage not even a tsunami could dampen our spirits. We charged forward and made the long hike from the car park to the main gates. This would later become known as the Sepang death march. Note to self: next time, wear an old faithful pair of shoes. Now is not a good time to break in a new pair.

But all the blood rushes back through your body and the adrenalin feels as though it becomes fuel injected once you enter the turnstiles. All of a sudden, you realize that you have hit the summit – both figuratively and literally; this is the pinnacle of motor racing and each warm body plays a vital role in history. Formula One has become the most widely viewed and one of the largest live sporting events on earth. I’m here doing my bit, sort of like one moving part in a million but equally important.

And, essentially, that is what it’s all about. The whole fascination behind the Formula One fever is not just the sum of its parts. It is how each piece fits into each other and the unique way that they react to one another to produce the fastest most incredibly efficient racing machine on earth. The same could be said for the event. Everything from the TV cameras, the merchandise, to the stale French fries and the screaming mob come together to form the color that is F1.

It’s all about team-work - and there are very few in the world that can match the Mild Seven Renault F1 team for consistency. Just like the race engine that powered Jarno Trulli to his Monaco victory last May, the team work together like an equally brilliant and well oiled machine to make sure that the 5,000 piece jigsaw puzzle is put together flawlessly. Rarely will you meet a more dedicated, focused or single-minded group of people. For them, life revolves around championship points, and judging by their (as of this writing) second place standings in the constructor’s title, that commitment is paying off. You would think they’d be happy. They’re not. They don’t race for second. They exist to win.

It is hard to comprehend how leaders of industry, pioneers in their field and the sharpest minds in the world can devote entire months of their lives just to shave of a second from a lap. But this is what they do, and they make no apologies for it. Each member of the team - whether a marketing officer, a chef, a tire changer or a driver – is hand picked solely because they are masters of their craft. Success is then awarded not to the team with the highest collective amount of brilliance, but rather to the one that achieves the perfect harmony and collaboration of those talents. It is as much a science as it is a business as it is a passion or an obsession. It is a sport that is cruel to mediocrity. Spending a brief afternoon with the team, I realized that perfection is not a word, it’s a habit – and for you to wear their colors, they expect nothing less.

After our tour we were invited for lunch in the private restaurant. In the pits. With Flavio. God help me. Or him. Among those in my circles, it is a well known fact that (for some unknown reason) I have single-handedly managed to offend or scandalize or just downright rattle each and every formula one personality I have met. Long story for another place and time but suffice to say that now I was totally focused on breaking my streak.

Lunch was exquisite and would have been more at home on the menu of the top dining rooms on the Champs de Elysse, but like I mentioned earlier, only the best need apply. I managed to make it through the entrée of fresh sliced tomatoes and mozzarella drizzled in extra virgin olive oil and cracked black pepper, without a hitch. Just a couple of courses left to go. Main course arrived without incident, which meant that if dessert went well, I’m home free. Asides from Fernando Alonso spinning during his qualifying, (which for the record had nothing to do with me) it was a success.

The mood had turned somber as mechanics and other very busy looking people fluttered around with clipboards and knotted brows adding to the tension of what was already a fragile situation. Fernando was eyed for pole position here and, for lack of a better word, had blown it. Within seconds the Renault pit was swarming with the international press. Microphones were being stabbed at Flavios face while cameras flashed furiously and TV crews muscled their way through everyone’s personal space. This was part of the circus that everyone talks about. Flavio handled himself beautifully and I was just thankful that the heat was off me.

According to our program, we were due for an interview with the drivers in about five minutes. I was to be given ten minutes with each driver and prime position for my questions. I set up my camera on a tripod and activated the remote control so I could take pictures while we chatted. What was once a civil and orderly outdoor café had now become a hive of activity with journalists climbing over one another to just to grab a sound bite from F1’s hottest young star. (Button had not hit superstardom yet) I held my ground and managed to get myself nice and close to Fernando.

After a series of pre prepared questions, sprinkled with mindful restraint so as not to put my giant foot in my mouth, I managed to complete the interview without my trademarked faux pas. Phew. It was now off to Jarno. First question to Jarno Trulli: (Me:) So, Fernando, what do you think of the proposed changes… (Jarno:) I’m am Jarno, Fernando is behind me. Would you like me to call him for you? Damn. I was so close too. Now I know what a three-day-old Puma shoe tastes like. At least it was new pair; I haven’t had that flavor before. The fact that I turned redder than Ferrari was just another diplomatic blunder.

Funny, but I wasn’t invited back to watch the race from the pits the day after. Go figure. At least I had reserved seats on the first corner. With possibly the best view of the entire track, I watched in awe as the world’s best ripped past me at blinding speeds and diced it out on one of Sepang’s favorite passing opportunities. Michael came first (yawn) while Montoya and Button filled up the rest of the podium, dangling like earrings alongside the world champion. Trulli did well to overcome his troubles and lock in 5th while Fernando used his sensational start to climb up a staggering thirteen spots and scoop up some points at seventh place.

At the end of the race I had become so overcome with excitement that I had hung myself over the railings of turn one to wave a flag of support with another fan I had just met. Turns out the guy is a professional fan that travels the world with his oversized flag just to show his support to a sport that he sees more as a religion. To make a long story short, I looked up on the big screen and much to my amazement, saw a larger than life image of myself being beamed across the entire planet. I was singled out of the crowd and aired on the Formula One Management international feed! An absolute highlight to an amazing trip. To think that among the sea of faces and colors that made up the Malaysian Grand Prix, I may have been just a pixel. But as I’ve learned through photography, the more pixels, the better the resolution – and looking back on it now, I have to say, it was one hell of a picture!