In the shining city of Singapore, I went through a gruelling test of determination... one that Westerners normally cannot contemplate. Those who go to Asia to train in martial arts come face to face with this challenge, and turn away, bitter and defeated.

On the final day of my second trip to Singapore, I did it.

It wasn't the prasara yoga warm-up, or the long slow run through the outdoor sauna of Singaporean streets. It wasn't even the Hindu squats and push-ups that I cracked through in a pavilion in Stanley Park, after hill-sprints up and down the outdoor steps. It was the true ordeal I faced afterwards, when I'd returned to my hotel room.

That was where I drank a can of Sweat.

Oh, yes, and the capitalization is intentional. In the Far East, you can buy cans of an isotonic drink called Sweat, but Europeans cannot -- normally -- bring themselves to drink the stuff. And there's a fantastically powerful reason for that, because...

...words are magic, aren't they?


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