Hello Friends.

I hope your summer is going fantastically so far. I am only a few days away from my vacation, and I am SO excited. Be on the lookout for the postcard - it will be coming to you from someplace beautiful. ❤️

But I promised you a longer letter from my Formula 1 trip, and since we are heading into another race Sunday, I think this is the perfect time.

So, buckle up and enjoy!

Free Practice 1 & 2 - Friday, 24 July

By now, my health was steadily declining, despite my desperate attempts to convince my body otherwise. My spirits were still up and fighting - just very, very tired.

But also? Very excited.

The trip had officially made it out of the group chat (all of our trips do eventually), and after breakfast - and coffee, obviously - we ventured out to Hungaroring.

The journey was suspiciously smooth. A few subway stops, a train, about forty minutes of watching Budapest disappear outside the window, and then a shuttle bus to the circuit. And suddenly, there we were.

The moment we stepped off the bus, it hit us: the heat and the atmosphere.

A sea - or, as we would later discover, more of a lake - of people in team shirts and caps, waving flags, wearing face paint and looking ridiculously happy to be there.

We scanned our tickets and stepped onto the hill overlooking the track.

And let me tell you: it was an absolutely phenomenal feeling.

We took a few pictures, all pure happiness, and started exploring. The grounds were enormous. And that's where I saw my drivers from Cadillac.

Valtteri and Checo.

On a poster, of course.

Still counts.

We eventually found a place to sit, surrounded by people doing exactly what we were doing: treating an F1 weekend like the world's largest picnic. Folding chairs, blankets, food, snacks, umbrellas - everything you could possibly need for three days at a racetrack.

We secretly hoped our little spot would be ours for all three days.

Ha.

How ironic.

One of the things that surprised me most was how much actually happens during a race weekend. It's not just Formula 1. There is Formula 2, Formula 3 and other races happening throughout the weekend, so there is always something on track.

And then came Free Practice 1 and 2: our first ever contact with Formula 1 cars live and in stereo.

It was… strange. New. Completely thrilling.

Loud enough for my heart to feel the vibrations.

And this wasn't even the main event.

Free practice is essentially the teams figuring out how their cars behave on a particular track and in particular conditions - testing setups, tyres, temperatures and everything else that might matter when the real racing begins.

And then there was my Cadillac 🖤

That black-and-white livery appeared on the track and my heart did a little flutter.

Of course it did.

We spent some more time wandering around Hungaroring, soaking everything in, before heading back to Budapest. The queue for the shuttle was about an hour long, but somehow even that felt like part of the adventure.

We were at Formula 1.

Who cared about the queue?

Free Practice 3 & Qualifying - Saturday, 25 July

I should probably leave this section blank.

I wasn't there.

My body and my mind had reached their breaking point, and I had to stay at the apartment.

Oh, I was heartbroken.

When I woke up that morning, I had this horrible feeling that I had messed everything up. That I had ruined the trip.

But that was my illness and exhaustion talking.

Not Jules-Jules.

The night before had been practically sleepless. Melatonin didn't work. Breathwork didn't work. I was exhausted beyond words.

So I stayed.

And, as it turned out, staying was exactly what I needed.

I slept during the day. I took my medication. I drank tea. I watched mindless YouTube. And I read.

When the girls came back, they were absolutely elated. And frankly, so was I, because seeing how happy they were made me happy too.

I got all the juicy details, even though I had been following the action online. We made more tea (meaning I made tea for myself), talked for a while and went to bed.

This time, I slept.

And Sunday was waiting for me.

Race Day - Sunday, 26 July

The day had come.

A few days earlier, after some extensive internet research, we had booked an Uber to the circuit. I woke up rested and excited.

Still congested - I was going through tissues at the speed of light - but much, much better.

The 26 July Jules was incredibly grateful to the 25 July Jules for staying behind.

We put on our team shirts and set off.

The Uber ride took about forty-five minutes, followed by an uphill walk that felt like a marathon to me. The grounds were absolutely flooded with people.

And somehow, we still found a great spot.

Sunday was hotter, dustier and SO much busier than Friday. Friday had suddenly started looking positively peaceful in comparison.

We had plenty of time before the race, so Marta and I decided to explore the other side of the circuit. We walked closer to the grandstands, where everything was louder and somehow much more tangible.

We found a Hungaroring shop, bought fridge magnets, refilled our water bottles and started scouting for a new place to watch the race.

Eventually, we found one where we could see the ribbon of track and the pit-lane entry.

A few hundred pages of my book later, the race was about to begin.

Yes.

I was reading at the Hungarian Grand Prix.

I contain multitudes.

Marta and I had agreed that we would leave about fifteen laps before the end so she could get into a good position for the track celebration. I knew my limits, and running for the podium was completely out of the question.

But I could take her backpack.

This, apparently, was my contribution to motorsport.

Watching the race itself was... different.

When you're at the circuit, you only see one part of the race. The big screens are far away. The helicopter is constantly somewhere above you, providing the view that everyone watching at home gets.

But I wouldn't change it.

It was FANTASTIC.

And then, because the universe apparently wanted to give me a little gift, my Cadillac broke down right in front of us.

Well.

I was a few hundred metres away.

But in a straight line?

Valtteri was right there.

I call that a massive win.

I have very blurry pictures to prove it.

The podium itself was Lando Norris for McLaren in first, Max Verstappen for Red Bull in second, and Kimi Antonelli for Mercedes in third.

And I suppose I should tell you who we were rooting for.

I am rooting for Cadillac: rookie F1 fan supporting a rookie F1 team. Plus, you already know about my soft spot for Valtteri Bottas.

Marta supports Red Bull. Kseniia cheers for Williams, and Valeriia is a McLaren fan.

So the podium was a little bittersweet.

Sweet for Valeriia and Marta.

Bitter for me and Kseniia.

Valtteri had to retire with overheating brakes, while Carlos Sainz finished eighteenth.

But the podium celebration?

Fabulous.

I decided to walk instead of run, but the sheer idea of stepping onto the track where the F1 cars had been speeding around only twenty minutes earlier felt completely unreal.

I walked close to the garages and watched the cars being escorted back inside. There were hundreds of people around us, all happy and taking pictures. Confetti was flying.

And God.

I felt so happy.

I felt like a tiny part of a collective that was so happy and so bright and so loud that it squeezed my heart.

In the best possible way.

Three things I'll remember from Hungary

The 2026 Hungarian Grand Prix is history now, and somehow it moved some rusty parts in my heart and brain.

Happiness trickled back in, slowly and steadily, like an IV drip.

Even while being sick as a dog - yes, apparently that is still the expression we use - I was some version of the happiest I had been in a very long time.

So, before I let this letter go, here are my three favourite memories from that weekend.

1. The moment we first stepped onto the Hungaroring.

That first glimpse of the circuit. The heat. The noise. Thousands of people wearing their colours and waving their flags. The realisation that this thing I had watched on a screen was suddenly happening right in front of me.

I think that feeling will stay with me for a very, very long time.

2. Seeing Valtteri's Cadillac in front of me.

Was the car broken? Yes.

Was I still delighted? Also yes.

This was my first Formula 1 race, my first time seeing these cars in person, and somehow the driver I had become ridiculously fond of ended up retiring right in front of me.

There are worse ways to become an F1 fan.

3. Walking onto the track after the race.

This one is probably the big one.

Walking on the same asphalt that had been vibrating under the cars only minutes earlier, surrounded by hundreds of people celebrating together, with confetti everywhere...

That was the moment when I stopped thinking about being sick, exhausted, overwhelmed or anything else.

I was just there.

And I was happy.

Sometimes you don't realise how badly you needed a moment until you're standing in the middle of it.

We flew back on Monday afternoon, and I had a doctor's appointment that evening with the slightly less glamorous confirmation of laryngitis and pharyngitis.

I took a full week of sick leave.

I rested. I slept. I drank approximately seventeen thousand cups of tea.

And I let myself recover.

Because, as it turns out, sometimes the best souvenir you can bring home from a trip is the reminder that you are still capable of being completely, ridiculously, wonderfully happy.

And that might be my favourite thing I brought back from Hungary.