La Joi d'Paris

As the Eurostar approached Gard Du Nord station, my impression of Paris looking out the train window was that it was a slum.

The station itself seemed nice enough, but the neighbourhood lacked a distinct feeling of respectability.

Graffiti everywhere, decrepit housing, filthy streets, poorly maintained buildings, a plentiful supply of pornography dealers - it was not the image of Paris I had in mind.

Spending a few days in Paris, I've found the subways to be reeking of urine, the city layout a confusing arrangement of 20 arrondissements in an irregular spiral, and the streets booby trapped with doggy poop.

And yet, I found myself loving Paris. Despite all her faults, I've fallen under the spell of her charms - it can't be anything other than true love.

I love the enchanting Parisien lifestyle, I love the charm of the old architecture and the beautiful wide boulevards, I love watching the beautiful people come and go by the cafes as I soak up the atmosphere. I love how friendly the locals are when you attempt to speak French, and never once encountered the supposed arrogance of the Parisiens.

And I LOVE the many artisan patisseries dotted along almost every corner, producing the most wonderful looking and tasting pastries in the world. Randomly choose anything from the gorgeous displays, and it will be delicious.

It was like a torrid, but ultimately doomed, love affair - with only six days in the City of Lights, the focus was very much on enjoying every moment I had here. And yes, no matter what happens from this point on, I'll always have Paris.


The Hotel Nouvel Orleans

Another highly recommended hotel from TripAdviser.com, this was a surprisingly easy hotel to get to via the Paris Metro. On the same line as Gard Du Nord, I took the (purple) #4 line to Mouton-Duvernet station, and exited at the middle of the platform.

With a convenient escalator to help haul my luggage up, the Hotel was directly and diagonally opposite the Metro exit.

As a Best Western Hotel, the helpful staff speak english, and the rooms are clean and comfortable, if somewhat small. However, the elevator is particularly tiny - about the size of a small closet, so it's adviseable to pack light (d'oh!).

The shower is even smaller than the elevator: I'm not a particular big guy, yet I could barely turn around in it without my elbow knocking the tap to "freezing cold" every few minutes.

The only thing keeping me from woofing down more pastries like popcorn was the fear that if my waist expanded by just a couple of inches, I'd not be able to fit in the shower at all.

Nonetheless, it is clean and modern with a comfortable bed and a plasma TV. It should also be noted that the walls are paper thin - having some rowdy guests on the same floor meant that I could hear every sound they made... even at 3am.

Even more so when they are drunk, lost their keys, and banging ever louder on the door for 15 mins, waiting for their supposedly sleeping room-mate to wake up.

At least it gives you some productive and creative time, such as working out how one can commit murder with some dental floss, toothpaste, a subway map and assorted leftover croissant crumbs.

In the 14th arrondissement, the Nouvel Orleans is on the main street of a residential area on the southern outskirts of central Paris.

Devoid of tourist traps, it has a genuine local feel to it, and a great variety of shops, restaurants, cafes, market stalls and patisseries all within a five minute walking distance. However, it is adviseable to be able to speak and understand some passable French, as the locals don't tend to understand English.

Of particular note are two bakeries on the opposite side of the road - one around the first corner to the left, and the other around the first corner to the right. The pastries there are excellent, and very reasonably priced. I found myself in a daily morning ritual of visiting either store to stock up for breakfast, and again in the afternoon for a snack.

Especially for the tarte mirabelle, an addictive concoction of caramelised local plums on a flaky, delicate pastry base.

While Sydney has its fair share of bakeries, there is nothing I've found that compares to how good the simplicity of this one treat.

Also on the main street is a local Monoprix supermarket, which was a great place to stock up on bottled water (6 bottles of Evian for less than 2 Euros), fruit and other assorted snacks. Armed with supplies, I was ready to take on Paris.

To be continued...

Flying on the ground with Eurostar

Having worked on a few tourism accounts, I can definitely see that I fit into an emerging category called the "Flashpacker".

While it sounds like someone who goes around revealing a little too much behind a skimpy trenchcoat, it really comes down to a buzz-phrase called "selective extravagance". Whilst I am constantly on the lookout for the best value options, I have the desire and ability to indulge on certain activities.

It is not about having the cheapest possible holiday experience, nor the most luxurious - but saving some money in some areas, enduring some roughness, forgoing some of the niceties of travel - in exchange for a better experience, a smoother voyage, an indulgent streak in other areas deemed of more personal value.

In this case, "First Class" (or "Leisure Select") on the Eurostar is one of the indulgences. The Eurostar is the train service that services London to Paris (plus a few other stops) via the Channel Tunnel, and reaches speeds of around 300 km/h.

As this was not part of the Round-the-World frequent flyer redemption, it meant parting with my cold hard cash. Sure, there are cheaper options, including some budget low-cost-carrier airlines, but with all the flights on this holiday, I thought it would be more interesting to have one nice rail trip.

Besides, I still managed a bargain of sorts, since the ticket was only about US$20 more than the available economy tickets available for my window of time. Sadly though, this feat would not be repeated on my return trip - where the price of the economy tickets plummetted so low (less than US$50) that saving my money for a nice meal seemed to make more sense.

Arriving at Waterloo station with an hour to go before departure, it was a much less painful procedure than checking in to an airport. Scanning my credit card in one of the automated booths, two tickets popped out (one to Paris, and one return).

There was a slight delay at the ticket gate with the security inspections holding up the line, then passed the immigration area to have the passport stamped, then you're at the terminal. Curiously, there is French border control staff in London (and British border control staff in Paris) that you must go through before the journey commences, rather than at the end.

Like a small airport, there is a crowded waiting area, some duty free shops, foreign exchange booths and food stores.

20 minutes before the scheduled departure time, passengers are allowed to start boarding the train. Unlike an airport, there is no priority gate for business/first class passengers - just a single egalitarian scrum. And a long terminal where you have to drag all your luggage with you, as there is no check-in.

The first few carriages are dedicated First class cars, with 30 passengers to each cabin. One noticeable difference between First and Economy class is that there is a dedicated cabin steward to assist with luggage and seating in First. Economy class passengers must fend for themselves (an experience I will no doubt experience later).

There are small luggage areas at each end of each carriage, and a star-trek like swooshing door that leads to the seating area. The seats are reminiscent of what you would see in International Economy class on a decent airline - not very spacious, but comfortable. No buttons to press, no inflight entertainment, very little recline and a pop-down tray table affixed to the seat in front. Above the seats are racks to place heavy clothing and carry-on luggage. All-in-all, not a particular premium feel to it.

The train departed on time, and was a fairly uneventful voyage for the first hour of this three hour voyage. Having no new gadgets to play with, a rather dreary view on industrial England whizzing by, and a growing hunger pang, I started getting a bit antsy. Luckily, the staff kindly provided all manner of reading material which kept me distracted for a while.

Half way through the journey - approximately noon - preparations were made for breakfast.

I've always found it an odd thing to be having breakfast at noon; regardless of what's eaten, doesn't the timing make it lunch? Or at the very least, brunch? If a poor and culinarily unskilled student has a bowl of cornflakes for dinner - that's still dinner and not breakfast, right? What is the proper etiquette with regards to the naming of meals? Or is Eurostar catering run by Hobbits, and this is 2nd breakfast (right after elevenses)?

In any case, it was a choice between cereal with milk (as well as a cereal bar), or a traditional English breakfast. Having had my fill of cereal at the Hotel for breakfast, I opted for the traditional english - which was pulled out of a metal meal holder ala economy class flight cabins.

The servings were tiny, but surprisingly flavoursome. Not a gourmet experience by any stretch of the imagination, but much more tasty than its rubbery appearance would indicate. I could certainly have done with a second helping, but sadly, this was not to be. The cabin stewards came around once more to serve tea & coffee, and then were not to be seen again until arrival at Gard du Nord in Paris.

Overall the journey time is around 3 hours - factor in some wait time, and the 4 hours would be comparable to the overall time required for flying. In some ways, it certainly is a much more pleasant experience than flying; the cabin is much quieter than any plane, the view is more scenic once you get to the more rural areas of England and France, and the "check-in" is smoother. And if the engine breaks down, it's more of an annoyance rather than oh-my-god-we-are-all-going-to-die catastrophe.

On the flipside, the overall service and "product" doesn't match what you'd get on a standard flight (unless European carriers are particularly bad?), but for the short duration, does that really matter? Having now experienced the Eurostar, I would certainly consider it again if the price is competitive with equivalent flights, but I would probably skip First class and opt for the much cheaper economy tickets.

This is one flashpacker who will be a bit more selective with his Eurostar extravagance in future.

Exploring London

Walking through Hyde Park every morning, there are some observations I'd like to make about London.

Firstly, it's always 7am. It could be four o'clock in the afternoon, but with the cold, crisp chilly air, the hint of a wisp of fog that clings to everything in sight - it gives London in Winter a perennial seven-in-the-morning feel to it.

Secondly, everything is so civilised here. The people are so civilised, greeting you as they walk by. The dogs are so civilised, walking proudly alongside their owners, without the need for a leash. The horses and horse-riders are civilised, with their obvious aristocratic blood and breeding. Heck, even the ducks are civilised, going about their stately swims alongside the lake's edge, unfazed by the human, canine and equine activity around them.

Thirdly, the sound that the walking lights make when then go green is exactly the same as my fire alarm. The first time I waited at the lights, my Pavlov conditioned reaction was to look around like a meerkat "who's burning their toast?" instead of crossing the road.

Fourthly, this is a city I could grow to love. There is a certain elegance to it all, and an optimism borne of a city that not only has a millenia of history, but one that has been destroyed and rebuilt many times over.

Having a few days to explore the city, I set out for a different direction through Hyde Park each morning with only a vague idea of what I wanted to see. And here are the results.


Buckingham Palace

What visit to London is complete without seeing where the Royal Family resides?

I've been told that the Changing of the Guards is not to be missed, as it's the epitome of British Pomp and Pageantry. This takes place at 11:30am every day (alternate days between Autumn and Spring), and so I duly waited by the impressive Palace Gates for the show.

I arrived a little after 11am, and there were already a parade of soldiers standing at attention - presumably, these are the guards to be changed. Some other officers were doing the rounds, walking in an exaggerated military fashion and barking the occasional order.

After a few minutes, I was starting to get a little bored, so imagined all this happening to the tune of "Oh-wee-Oh, weee-Ohh oh" from the Wicked Witch's Castle scene out of the Wizard of Oz. With their grey coats and furry hats, it worked a treat. Add in some Flying Monkeys, and it was enough to keep me amused for a few more minutes.

Finally, a military march could be heard in the distance, and a few minutes after 11:30am, a band showed up with a fresh batch of soliders.

At last, the Pomp and Pageantry was to begin!

Getting into position, the Guards stood there and waited. As did the spectators.

Some more orders were barked. The Guards stood there, unmoving.

Any moment now, something was to going to happen...

Nope... nothing.

About 10 minutes passed by without much movement (at least that part of the reputation of the Queen's guard is true), so I spent a bit more time looking around and inspecting the Palace exterior itself.

It was somewhat comforting to know that, no matter how rich the Queen may be, how lofty and exalted her position, how impressive her humble abode... she still suffers like us commoners, with inept construction workers and home heating problems.

Another thing I noticed was that Buckingham Palace is surrounded by busy main roads - something they normally don't show in all those pictures and news broadcasts. I do wonder if Her Majesty suffers from drive-by hoonings late at night, where she would open up a royal window to give a royal finger, before summoning the royal executioner to chase the offender and off with their head.

Suppressing a smile, my thoughts were interrupted with the band making a move to the centre of the Palace courtyard.

Ok, something's happening! A few more minutes of waiting... What were they going to play? God Save the Queen? Rule Britannia? Perhaps something a bit more militaristically traditional, like the Colonel Bogey March, perhaps?

The band plays the first chord. With all the waiting, was my mind playing tricks on me?

"Are... are they playing... The Phantom of the Opera?" asked a puzzled tourist behind me.

Yep, it was true then. I wasn't hearing things.

And so begain a 10 minute Phantom medley. By this stage, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Three possibilities were running through my mind:

(1) Having problems paying even for heating (see above), the poor Royal Family have had to outsource the Queens Army to the Salvation Army. Donations will be accepted at the end of each song as the conductor passes the red bucket.

(2) This is, in fact, some sort of psychological warfare aimed at strengthening the resolve of the Queen's fighting forces. ("Right lads! You've now had a concentrated, 10%-less-than-lethal dose of Andrew Lloyd Weber. Fear nothing that crosses your path today, for you have already endured the worst. May God have mercy on your souls!")

(3) It is the secret to the eternal glazed, comatose look that the Queens Guards are famed for.

Another 10 minutes more of not much movement, the guards switch places, and it was all over. I looked around to see the reaction of the other tourists, only to find that they had all left. Every single one of them.

It was just me who stuck to the bitter end, in the hope that there may have been something more. With the morning now long gone, it was time to move on.


The Tower of London
The famous Tower of London has been home to much of Britain's heritage, having served as a palace, a Royal Mint, a storehouse, a zoo, a torture chamber, a prison, a fortress, and an army barracks amongst other things during its 950 or so years of existence.

Many famous names have been executed there, and it is reputed to be amongst the most haunted places in England. The ghost of Queen Anne Boleyn - former wife of King Henry VIII - seen walking at night carrying her head in her arm, is one of the more prominent restless spirits there.

Today, it is now much better known as a tourist attraction and keeper of the Crown Jewels, as well as the toughest tour guide gig to get in the world.

Home to the Queen's Yeoman Warders (affectionately known as the Beefeaters), one must have served in the armed forces for no less than 22 years, and obtain a rank of at least Seargeant Major to even get a chance at being one of the 36 chosen guards.

And how is this intensive combat experience used?

To take busloads of tourists around the Tower grounds, pointing out places of interest. And you thought the training to be a London cabbie was tough!

The actual Tower itself is not particularly tall by modern standards, but was for many centuries the tallest building in London. It is a white building known, appropriately enough, as the White Tower and had its origins as a fortress home for William the Conqueror and today houses a museum of artifacts from its illustrious history.

The museum itself is quite interesting, and I happily spent a couple of hours exploring the interior, which has been lovingly restored and in some parts modernised.

There is a small chapel upon entering the White Tower, with its solemn aura radiating a sense of peace and tranquility. Being the heathen Darwin-supporting atheist that I am, I was half wondering if I would be struck down with a plague or some other divine retribution for even daring to set foot in such a holy sanctuary.

Past the chapel is where it starts getting more into things that interest a geek like me... medieval armour and weapons.

The museum sports an small but impressive collection from Henry VIII, including a commanding full-suit for the King and barding for his steed.

Of note is an almost comical extrusion to protect the "other crown jewels" - for you ladies, Henry VIII was evidently a big man in more ways than one.

As for the actual Crown Jewels themselves, they technically aren't kept in the Tower, but in a seperate building called the Jewel House within the walled grounds.

This was built in 1738 after an attempted robbery - prior to that, the jewels were justed stored in a locked cabinet, which didn't prove too secure.

Entering the Jewel House is a process akin to propaganda & indoctrination, for you are subjected to a few rooms, each showing a different aspect of the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. After watching it all, you are pretty much in no doubt that, yep, she's the Queen.

After the videos are completed, you enter a giant safe containing all the jewelry you've just seen on screen. The Jewels are stored in a row of secured glass cabinets, along which run two parallel moving walkways.

With the Crowns, the Sceptres, the Swords, and other regalia all sitting on purple, lined velvet cushions and strategically placed lighting, the impression you get as you whiz by on the travelator is that of the Home Shopping Network.

The gems are so excessively large and plentiful that it starts to look fake... and if you call now, they'll throw in a free estate in Scotland! All yours for just 1,280 payments of $5 million each (excluding postage and delivery).

Seriously, American rappers don't know the meaning of Bling, when you're staring at one 350 year old crown alone that contains 6 thousand diamonds. And there are a lot of crowns on display. Not to mention the two largest cut diamonds in the world, which in turn are surrounded by yet more diamonds.

I guess if there's one perk to being the Queen is that no one can ever accuse you of being too ostentatious with your bling.

As the english magician Derren Brown once wrote, any such statement such as "Who do you think you are, the Queen?!" would be retorted with "Why yes, I am", before being dragged off by Royal Guards to have your testicles removed for being churlish.

All in all, very worthwhile visiting, and having a Beefeater take you around on the tour. For those planning to visit, the iconic London Bridge is also a stone's throw away.


Shakespeare's Globe Theatre

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances
And one man in his time plays many parts...

William Shakespeare (As You Like It, Act II, sc. vii)

Shakespeare tormented me up until about Year 10.

I tried to like his works... I really did. It's just that I didn't really understand him. I mean, I got good marks, and I got the gist of it, but I couldn't help the feeling that it was all a little over-rated, and of what's the big fuss all about?

It wasn't until I had a brilliant English teacher who helped me really understand McBeth that it all clicked into place, and it all finally made sense.

I've been a fan of The Bard ever since, and so could not refuse a trip to the Globe.

An amazing reconstruction of the original Globe, it took 25 years of political wrangling to bring this monument to one of the world's greatest english language playwrights to reality.

Basically, the locals didn't believe that this Shakespeare guy needed anything more than a plaque on a brewery wall... guess they didn't have the benefit of my year 10 English teacher.

Built about 180 metres from the original site, it is a faithful reproduction of the original, down to the building techniques and materials. In fact, 15 years of the political wrangling was over the authentic thatched roof - the London council had not approved one since the Great Fire of London in 1666, and wasn't going to start now!

Needless to say, they caved in and allowed it to be built on the priviso of it having extra fire extinguishers on the roof, and two extra exits.

If you take up the guided tour, you are treated to the inside of the Globe, which is used for actual reproductions of Shakespeare's plays.

Unlike the Tower of London, the tour guides aren't ex-military, but actual campy actors with a passion for dramatic flair and bringing the theatre to life. Contrary to the superstition around that Scottish Play, our tour guide was more than happy to bandy McBeth around inside the theatre.

The stage itself is also interesting, with an ornately painted ceiling depicting the Heavens (and a trap-door through which wired actors can enter the stage as angels), and a corresponding secret trap-door in the floor of the stage, representing Hell (for actors to enter as demons or witches).

Thus, the mortal realm in between heaven and hell, as represented by the stage, is the world in which all men and women play out their dramas, their comedies, their romances, their exits, their entrances and everything else that makes up life within this Globe. Symbols within symbols, meanings within meanings, and poetic apropos all round.

Interestingly enough, the Globe also encourages discussion as to the Bard's real identity at the Shakespeare exhibition that is also included with the ticket price. Having spent a few good hours all up, it was time to exit, stage left... (ok, I concede that's more Snagglepus than Shakespeare).


The Science Museum

If life didn't lead me down the path to Advertising, I probably would be doing something more respectable, like drug dealing or pimping.

Alternatively, I would have indulged in science for the opportunity to pull things apart, blow things up, smash things together and do all sorts of unnatural experiments.

It's no co-incidence that Super Villains (as opposed to your ordinary garden variety) tend to be scientists, for with Knowledge comes Power.

Thus, I was interested in what today's breeding ground for tomorrow's merciless overlords is like, bringing me to the British Science Museum. England has had more that its fair share of brillian scientists and engineers over the centuries, and their enormous contribution to society is showcased in this impressive 5 story exhibition hall.

With plenty to see and do - the museum covers many diverse topics, from the evolution of science to entire floors devoted to themes such as computing, flight, naval engineering, mathematics, space exploration and the automobile to name a few.

Of particular interest for me was the reproduction of Babbage's Analytical Engine - a purely mechanical fore-runner to the modern computer. A design so advanced and requiring engineering so precise that it was impossible to build with the technology of the time.

Requiring no electricity - just someone to turn the crank a few times, it was capable of amazing feats of mathematics.

Surprisingly, given the huge impact that Sir Isaac Newton had on the world of science and mathematics, there was virtually nothing showcasing his work. The other British giant of science, Charles Darwin, on the otherhand, had a museum all to himself right next door...


The Museum of Natural History

Right next door to the Science museum is the Temple to Natural Science. The irony of this building was not lost on me, as I originally mistook this building for a Cathedral.

If the intent of the architect was to evoke awe about the amazing diversity, detail and grandeur of this planet, then it succeeds from the moment you step through the ornately decorated entrance.

Once beyond, the grand foyer continues to impress with a incredibly detailed carvings of various fauna and flora carved into the wall, decorating it with the multiplicity of the natural world.

It’s easy to see how the ancient cathedrals of old could inspire the peasants in the splendour and magnificence of God through architecture. No doubt, the architect was looking to use these techniques to invoke those same feelings, but at the world around us rather than to the glory of a specific deity.

As to be expected, the Dinosaur exhibit is amongst the museum’s best, with a full animatronic Tyrannosaurus Rex capping off the display. The Earth’s treasury is also notable, with examples of numerous precious minerals and gems that have been bequeathed over the years by various benefactors.

Sadly though, there was little discussion of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (blessed be all that his noodly appendage touches), and instead, there is an entire floor devoted to the discussion of man’s evolution over 4 billion years.


Big Ben
Yes, this is quite a large and impressive clock, but was somewhat shorter than I imagined it would be. It’s always seemed much more looming and dominant on TV – I guess it’s true when they say that TV adds a few pounds.

Big Ben is close to quite a few other London landmarks – the Chapel of Westminster, the Houses of Parliament, and the London Eye(sore).

While it seems to be quite popular with tourists now, I can’t imagine why anyone would think a giant ferris wheel amidst all these old stately buildings helps contribute to London’s charm and character. Then again, I’ve heard that the Parisians hated the Eiffel Tower when that was first build too.

Trafalgar Square

Outside of the National Portrait Gallery, this is dominated by a giant column to commemorate Lord Horatio Nelson’s victory at Trafalgar. What’s more impressive to me though, are the four giant lions that stand sentinel, guarding the base of the column.

Proud, fierce, noble and vigilant, these four beasts now have the purpose of giving piggy-back rides to the numerous children climbing about.


London Guards Hotel

To finish off this report on London, a few more words about the hotel.

It’s haunted.

Or at least that’s the way it felt. Whilst it’s a fantastic price for a great location, it’s also quite old with creaking floorboards. Sleeping tends to be quite a hit and miss affair, and depends on how considerate your fellow guests are – it doesn’t take much to make a noise that gets amplified – just the ability and desire to walk from one location to another.

And don’t expect to sleep in either, as the cleaning crew will undoubtedly wake you when they start walking the rounds.

A continental breakfast is also included with the room which is great – but is always the same. Breadrolls, croissants, orange juice and cereal. It’s a good way to start the day, and enough to fill you until you find a more appetising place to eat.

And there’s plenty of choice too – take a short 5 minute stroll towards Paddington station, and there’s some great variety and quality. Particularly notable is a place called the Video Café – it wasn’t a particularly gourmet sounding place (especially since it was a video rental shop), but it makes a fantastic chicken and salami pizza, with garlic bread and a drink for under 5 pounds.

Which was a godsend. Whilst London is becoming a food capital of the world, according to the unofficial Big Mac Index, London is at leat twice as expensive a place to eat in than Sydney (and of lesser quality at the lower price ranges too).

Speaking of McDonalds, it was actually quite a pleasant discovery to see how few of them seem to exist here – the market appears to be dominated by another fast food chain called Pret-a-Manger. Focussing on simple but delicious and healthy fast food at reasonable prices, it seemed to be quite a popular choice with locals. From what I can see, it’s a licence to print money – if anyone is interested in starting up an Australian franchise of it, let me know ;)

Overall, London has been a fun experience – certainly a lot to see and do, and has a nice atmosphere to it. Sydney is often touted as being a multi-cultural city, but it feels more real in London. The multitude of foreign accents and foreign workers makes London truly international. It’s proximity to Europe as well as the legacy of Empire has made it a melting pot and fusing of culture in ways that remote Sydney hasn’t quite matched.

Whilst London may be old, there’s still a spark of youthful energy as the city continues to reshape itself for the 21st Century. I can certainly see myself with a future here – I’m sure that this first time will not be my last.

But until then, Paris now beckons, and a Eurostar Chunnel trip lies ahead.

London at last.

Landing in Heathrow was a very smooth experience. As one of the first planes to arrive as the curfew lifted, it was a long and solitary walk to the immigration counters. With virtually no queue, I stepped through, waited a few minutes for my luggage on the conveyor belt, then searched for the BA Arrivals lounge to freshen up.

Still feeling a little seedy, I was hoping that the lounge would help make me feel better, as well as pass away some of the time given that I didn’t have an early check-in for the hotel. 10 minutes later, after walking the length and breadth of Heathrow airport, I finally arrived at the Lounge and booked myself into the Molton Brown Spa there.

The spa has a variety of complimentary treatments available, such as a massage or facial scrubs, and you are provided with an assortment of toiletries upon arrival. Needing to feel more awake, the only thing I wanted was to have a shower.

Without going into any of the gory details, the shower facilities there are rather interesting, with multiple water nozzles to get an all over body wash. What’s more interesting is that most of the nozzles are in a vertical strip facing you as you reach for the water switch.

Handy Travellers Tip for the Day: When using the Molton Brown showers, do not turn the water on standing in front of the nozzles. Unless you want a hot stream of water blasting at your nether regions.

Feeling much better, I made my way to the refreshments area for a drink. There was a nice selection of breakfast choices available, including a full traditional English breakfast (sausages, eggs, bacon, mushrooms, etc.) and a variety of juices and pastries. Right now, my stomach had this uneasy equilibrium where the food neither wanted to go up or down, and tempting as the choices looked, I thought best not to disturb this delicate balance.

Grabbing an orange and grapefruit juice, I headed to a computer terminal to catch up on news and emails for an hour. Feeling very sleepy, I made the call to head to the hotel on the off chance that my room was ready.

Going to the other end of the terminal, I decided on catching the Heathrow Express to London. This was a pricey 14.50 GPB, but still a much cheaper option than catching a taxi from Heathrow.

Cost aside, this was a painless option with a clean, modern train (though still not as cool as Hong Kong).

Pulling into Paddington Station about 20 minutes later, I transferred to a London cab and found to my pleasant surprise, that the hotel was less than 5 minutes away.

Through the recommendations on Trip Adviser, I had booked myself in the London Guards Hotel, a charming old hotel a stone’s throw from Hyde Park.

It was obviously in a nice part of London, given all the fancy cars (a few Porsches, a couple of Lotuses, a dozen Mercedes and BMWs…), and looked just like how I’d imagine London to be. Row upon row of white terrace houses.

Unfortunately, my room was not to be available for another 3 hours, so I made myself comfortable in the reception area, and promptly fell in and out of sleep. At around noon, I was woken up, and advised that my room was ready.

Whilst waiting for the lift, in what was one of those Being John Malkovich moments, my Polish porter informed me my room was on the second and a half floor. Still half-asleep and not quite comprehending, I blinked at him, wondering if we had to do an emergency stop between levels two and three and pry the doors open with a crowbar.

“We take the lift to third floor, then go up the stairs then down the stairs,” he added, helpfully. “I take staff lift, and meet at your room”. And with that, I was sent up to the third floor in a tiny lift, alone.

Arriving on the third floor, I was still completely lost as to where I was to go – it was a narrow corridor full of doors. Luckily, one of the maids spotted me and directed me to a door at the end, which led to a set of stairs. I swear that I’ve had this experience before in San Jose, California at the Winchester House.

Oliver Winchester, the inventor of “the gun that won the west”, died a very rich man. His widow Sarah Winchester though, was a very superstitious woman who was informed that the ghosts of all those ever slain by a Winchester Rifle would find and haunt her until they were avenged, with her death. Her only means of surviving this fate was to forever keep building her mansion, continually adding new rooms so that the restless spirits would never find her – if she stopped building, her death would come swiftly.

For 38 years, she turned a stately mansion into a sprawling mass of rooms and corridors, stairways that lead to nowhere, a labyrinth to confuse and torment. 24 hours a day, 365 days a year for 38 years, artisans and builders worked on the construction. According to legend, the day she finally relented, and gave the workers a day off, was the day she was later found dead in her room.

And her architect must have been employed to work at the London Guards Hotel straight afterwards.

Half-tempted to roll a ball of string from reception so I could find my way out again, like Perseus hunting the Minotaur, I finally made it to my room. To my pleasant surprise, I found it to be the largest hotel room I’ve seen for a very long time.

Obviously meant for three people with a double bed and a single, all this space was mine and mine alone. For the price, in a nice area in Central London, this was an absolute bargain.

The facilities were nothing spectacular – comfortable, clean and quiet – but I crashed on the bed anyway and slept soundly until 5am the next morning. Feeling much better, I was ready to start my holiday at last!

The real holiday begins - next stop London

I’ve always considered that my real holiday doesn’t start until this flight to London, as from this point every step I take will be on new ground. I’ve not had the privilege of visiting any of the cities on my itinerary, save for Hong Kong. My tangible excitement mixed uneasily with a queasy stomach as I walked down the aerobridge to another Boeing 747-400.

My first impression of the cabin was how much classier it felt compared to the Qantas cabin – the finish and tones were warmer, the cabins seemed much better maintained, and subtle touches like fresh flowers gave this an unmistakeable first class feel. Clearly, if James Bond is happy with this cabin, who am I to complain?

No, James Bond wasn't really there - that's an image from the film "Die Another Day". My seat was the one in front of the lady in yellow on the right, who looks a bit fearful of how much closer the flight attendant's derriere will get to her nose.

After settling into my seat, the ritual of gift giving commenced again – pre-flight drinks, amenities bag (or BAg, as BA like to call it) another set of black PJs. For this 14 hour journey, it was a very light flight with just three passengers in First Class, and three crew to attend to us.

A nice point of difference with Qantas was that the Cabin Services Director also walked around to individually greet the passengers by name, and to introduce himself.

I’ve always assumed that the cabin crew would know who are the passengers that have paid for their flights, been upgraded, or are on freebies. At no point though, did the CSD treat me any differently than to a paid passenger, and seemed to assume I was. That's class.

Then again, he also assumed that I was flying on business, and that I was returning home to London.

I guess that BA must have a lot of British Super-Spies returning home in disguise, so it’s only natural that I’m confused with one, what with the incredibly suave and debonair way I sip my iced water (shaken, not stirred). Especially coming straight from that den of exotic Far Eastness crime and intrigue that is Hong Kong. Oh, and that bag of gadgets I carry on board that is on the verge of gaining sentience. I can see why it’s an obvious mistake to make.

If only they knew how easily I managed to poison myself with a fishy appetiser, they would have seen through my clever disguise and bumped me down to the rear of the plane with the failed private investigators and bumbling police inspectors.

Interrupting these thoughts, I was offered the menu for the flight:

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DINNER
Welcome to the FIRST dining experience, where you are in control of when and what you eat. Please create your own menu combination, from a light snack to a complete meal.


STARTERS
King Prawns with roast baba ghanoush on fresh salad leaves
Chiva-Som’s baked Ricotta cheese parcel, grilled courgette, baked tomato, enoki mushrooms and red pepper coulis
Chicken soup
Fresh salad leaves with your choice of Balsamic vinaigrette or roast red pepper crème fraiche.

MAIN
Chiva-Som’s rich beef curry with lime and lemon grass brown rice
Slow-roasted pork loin on crab colcannon with coarse apple puree and seasonal vegetables
Pan fried fillet of sea bass with Shanghai noodles served with sweet and sour sauce
Warm smoked salmon on a fresh potato salad with dill dressing

DESSERT
Caramelised pineapple tart served with star anise custard
Champagne lime brulee

SNACKS
Bacon roll served with tomato ketchup
Fresh pasta with your choice of spicy ratatouille or spinach and cheese sauce
Ice cream
A selection of sweet biscuits
A selection of cheese and fruit

CHEESE PLATE
A selection of cheese
A basket of fresh fruit
Your choice of:
Expresso, cappuccino, coffee, decaffeinated coffee, tea or herbal tea


BREAKFAST

STARTERS
Chilled fruit juice
An energizing fruit smoothie
A selection of fruit or plain yoghurts and cereals featuring Chiva-Som’s muesli
Fresh seasonal fruit plate

BAKERY
A wide selection of breakfast pastries and rolls

MAIN
Scrambled eggs, mushrooms, tomato, sausage and bacon
Chiva-Som’s stuffed Thai omelette
Egg noodles with shredded duck and turnip cake

CHAMPAGNE
Piper Heidsieck Cuvee Brut
Alfred Gratien Cuvee Paradis

WINES
Puligny-Montrachet Les Enseignieres 2003, Domaine Roux Pere et Fils
Three Choirs Estate Reserve Bacchus 2004
Tyrell’s Hunter Semillon Vat 1, 1999
Chateau Beychevelle 1995, Grand Cru Classe Saint-Julien
Errazuriz Don Maximiano Cabernet Sauvignon 2000, Aconcagua Valley
Glaetzer Bishop Shiraz 2001, Barossa Valley

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As tempting as some of the items looked, all I felt like was some soup and to curl up in bed (macho-super spy I am). I duly ordered the non-descript chicken soup, which arrived very promptly after a complete set-up of the table. What might have been a more accurate way to describe this would have been “light chicken broth with mushrooms and tofu” – it wasn’t quite what I was expecting, but was deliciously fragrant anyway.

The best way I can describe the BA First service is that it’s like being cocooned and mothered simultaneously, which was exactly what I needed. The slightly matronly cabin staff kept offering me more food (which I would have gladly accepted if I didn’t feel like I’d regurgitate it a few minutes later), and then efficiently cleared my table so I could get some sleep.

Feature wise, the seats between BA and QF are virtually identical – same buttons to press, same features, same TV screen, yet the BA seat seemed more comfortable. The high-walls around each seat at first seemed claustrophobic compared to the open QF setting, but this contributed greatly to a sense of privacy. BA also provided a thick duvet sheet to lay over the seat, which made it a very soft and comfortable cocoon to sleep in.

Except for the bright light shining in my eyes. Did I accidentally turn them on while I dozed? I pressed the button to turn them off. A few minutes later, the lights were back.

I began to wonder if I was hallucinating. I turned the lights off again, and stayed awake for a few moments. The lights turned back on again. Have I been captured by Dr. Evil while I was drugged kidnapped, and now in some nefarious interrogation chamber?

Squinting, I turned the lights off again. They turned on again.

No, I just have a malfunctioning light, and the other passengers must be thinking I’m some loony who is amused by the light button (light goes on, light goes off, light goes on, light goes off…).

Grabbing the pillow and putting it over my head, I managed to get some deep sleep at last. Six hours flew by before I woke up, thinking I was back in my hotel room in HK. I was slightly disoriented when I opened my eyes and found myself on board a plane, which must be a good sign as to how good the sleeper beds are. Or that Dr. Evil realised I wasn’t the spy he was looking for, and returned me to my seat.

I stumbled to the bathroom to be very sick for a very long time, then stumbled out and asked for some water. A glass of iced water was quickly brought to my seat, along with an extra bottle of still water. A basket of fruit was also thoughtfully placed in the centre of the cabin (right next to my seat), so I helped myself to some pears and plums before going back to bed.

By the time I woke up again, there was just 2 hours to touch-down, so I took the opportunity to play with the inflight entertainment. This is one area that the Qantas offering is superior to BA, and after about 15 minutes, I fixed it to the Flight map and left it there for the rest of the journey.

Once all the passengers had woken up, the crew came around to take breakfast orders. Still not feeling 100%, I ordered the muesli, a side of fresh fruit, and the energizer drink. Unlike Qantas, BA provided the full linen service, and breakfast was served within five minutes.

The energizer drink was basically a thickened yoghurt, which was more solid than liquid. I managed to finish about half of it. The muesli was ok – texture was good, but taste needed a bit of a lift.

Traveller’s tip for the day: combine muesli with honey (especially the fancy stuff you get in first class) and fresh fruit, and you lift the ordinary into the sublime.

Finishing that, no less than two of the cabing crew asked if I would like a warm breakfast as well. The scrambled eggs looked awfully tempting, but I couldn't bring myself to fit any more in. I figured that since I’ll be going to the Arrivals Lounge at Heathrow soon anyway, I could get a warm breakfast there, so I passed.

I felt like going back to sleep again, and was hoping that this flight would last a bit longer – but with London approaching, I changed out of my very comfortable BA PJs, and back into thick winter clothing, ready for my first step into London.

Hong Kong - world's biggest Chinatown.

I have a love-hate relationship with Hong Kong. There are things that I absolutely adore about it, but a few things that annoy me to no end. To me, it is the world’s largest Chinatown – sure, there are smatterings of real Chinese culture there, but it has been so diluted over time by western culture that it has become a theme park unto itself. A place which represents the exotic Far East (notice how whenever Hollywood needs a nefarious location in Asia, the streets of Hong Kong are typically shown?), but to me, is just a thin veneer - lacking in any real depth or soul. A town where money talks above all else.

On the other hand, there are many things to really like about this place, starting with the Airport.

I love airports. I love the feeling in them. I love the emotion in the atmosphere - the travellers embarking on an adventure of a lifetime to locations distant and foreign, the tearful farewells, and the joyous welcomes.

And of all the airports in the world, Hong Kong is my favourite by far. A modern building that cost HK$70 billion, it is a gleaming 750m long superstructure that has the traveller first and foremost in mind. How many airports can boast a fully-automated free subway in the basement that ferries passengers from one end of the terminal to the other?

Catching the Airport Express to the centre of the City is simple and straightforward too – this super futuristic system costs just HK$100 (or HK$180 return) and takes just 20 mins (compared with almost an hour by bus or taxi). Unlike the Sydney airport express, these are dedicated carriages with space for luggage, seat back entertainment, and an indicator telling you the progress of your journey.

Once at the Hong Kong station, there are free shuttle buses that take you to most of the major hotels around the tourist districts, and an efficient taxi rank for the smaller hotels. For this trip, I’m staying at the Cosmopolitan Hotel, which has its own shuttle bus that leaves every hour.

Unfortunately, my first class experience is only limited to the flights. For the rest of my journey, there is a much tighter budget for myself. Regarding hotels, I’ve placed a self-imposed budget of around AU$100 a night - quite the challenge given I’m visiting the most expensive cities in the world.

The Cosmopolitan, or Cosmo as it’s affectionately known, seems to be quite a popular hotel and with good reason. Given its location (5 minutes walk from the Times Square shopping complex) and it’s overall quality, the price is a bargain.

The rooms are nice and modern, and very clean. The only real quibble I have is the shower facilities – slightly cramped, and with those plastic curtains that try to wrap around and suffocate you when the hot water is running. The hotel also has a complimentary tour bus service that drops you off at various destinations along Hong Kong island, saving you the hassle of the walk.

But then you would miss out on the MRT system – my favourite train system in the world. In the half-dozen or so times I’ve been to Hong Kong, I’ve not had to wait more than a couple of minutes for any train on the MRT, and this trip was no exception. There are entry points to the subway everywhere, and for very reasonable fares (average price: HK$10) will take you hassle-free to most places you would want to visit. There are clear signposts in English and Chinese, and electronic indicator boards on the train that tell you where you are, where you are headed, and where to change trains. Brilliant.

So other than popping in to see some work colleagues in our Hong Kong office, the real reason I’m stopping by here for a couple of days is to experience the legendary Cathay Pacific First Lounges. Having done what I needed to (basically a shopping tour), I returned to the airport on the Airport Express.

As another example of how traveller oriented this place is, there are check-in facilities before you board the train in Hong Kong, so you can drop off your luggage 24 hours in advance of your flight – perfect for when you have an early check-out from the hotel and a very late flight.

I checked-in about 5 hours early (my flight was at 1am afterall) and made a bee-line for The Pier, one of the two Cathay Lounges. Though my next flight was with British Airways, Cathay had no problems at all allowing me in, honouring the OneWorld Alliance agreement.

Now this is what a First Class Lounge should be!

Feeling a little hungry, I stopped by at The Haven restaurant first, which is catered by the Peninsula Hotel (regarded as the best in a highly competitive Hong Kong). There was a buffet spread available with plenty of choices, and plenty of staff to ensure that you were looked after.

After sampling a little of everything, I booked a shower room to get refreshed. These are wonderfully large with great waterfall shower heads, and more toiletries than you can poke a stick at from Elemis Day Spas. Though very nice, the Cabana rooms over at The Wing (Cathay’s other lounge) are still the ultimate in relaxation.

Next stop after all that pampering was the Day room – the signature feature of this Lounge. I can only assume that most passengers don’t use this, as it took 4 staff to work out where the keys were to get in. There are 8 Day rooms available, and each are a self-contained entertainment theatre.

There is a very comfortable, very sumptuous leather chair facing an LCD screen, and a touch-screen panel to the side that controls everything from the lighting, to the TV, surround sound system and curtains. Whilst the lounge is very quiet and subdued, it is even more so in these rooms – perfect for quality relaxation time. One can get very used to this life.

With two hours to go before take-off, I reluctantly left the Pier (which closes at 11:30pm) to head to the British Airways/Qantas Lounge, which was much closer to the gate where my flight was located. This is an odd little lounge – lots of faded mismatched sofas, a tiny CRT TV in one corner, an oddly painted wall and unusual paintings on the other.

It seemed very much a smaller version of the business class lounge (that you have to pass through to get to the first class lounge), and the design statement was “I’m so rich I can flaunt a lack of taste”. Like Paris Hilton, except more trashy.

Ok, so maybe after the superlative Cathay Lounges, this is a little unfair, but I can’t see why anyone would want to use this facility if the nearby Cathay Wing is available. I don’t even know why BA/QF even bother with it, because it’s embarrassingly bad by comparison, and its passengers are free to use the Wing anyway.

With about 1 hour to the boarding call and feeling a bit peckish, I checked out the bar area. There was a selection of dehydrated vegetables (the driest carrot and celery sticks I’ve seen – and no dip), a tray of hors doerves and - in surely what must have been an oversight - fine recently opened bottles of Bollingers and Tattingers Champagne.

I settled in-front of the TV showing the National Geographic Channel with a salmon hors doerves and some apple juice.

And now for the handy traveller’s tip of the day: don’t eat seafood that hasn’t been refridgerated, no matter if it’s in a first class lounge, or how hungry you are.

Oh boy, did I feel decidedly ill after that. Curling up in a bed and getting some rest was looking very good at this point, so I was thankful to finally get the boarding call for my flight to London.