SpringHill House on Pardalote, Queenscliff
Old World Charm meets Getaway Paradise
Old World Charm meets Getaway Paradise
Travel review and critique by Claudia Sorace
Pictures and booking information are at the bottom of article.
Sometimes no matter how busy a person is they need some time away.
Personally, Europe tends to call my name like a long lost love when I return to Australia. Nonetheless, there are some truly beautiful and picturesque places within our ‘lucky country’ that one must take advantage of.
Whether you are passing through Victoria or a permanent resident of our vast and changing state, the Bellarine Peninsular is a place that you must visit.
It’s fabulous. Not fabulous in the sense that I’m saying that because I think everything is fabulous, I mean the place is genuinely fabulous; to the point where anyone who loves beautiful beaches, fantastic restaurants doting in the bay views and quaint shops that sell the unique things you cannot buy within Melbourne city or suburban malls.
Luckily, working within the Public Relations realm comes with a significant amount of benefits. Sometimes it is as simple as being given a complimentary glass of champagne or a gift bag. Occasionally, however, something magical comes along and you are granted an experience that people win on daytime radio competitions and the like.
The hosts of the Springhill House Boutique Luxury Accommodation Estate in Queenscliff recently contacted me. They asked if I would spend a weekend indulging in their warm hospitality and provincial auberge. After doing what the entirety of our generation does, I opened my web page and swiftly googled who, where and what exactly was Springhill House. Let's just say I accepted in a prompt manner. After doing so, a close writing companion (Nick) felt the need to badger me until I asked the hosts if he could accompany me. Obligingly they agreed and I relented in allowing my colleague to share the weekend with me.
I had not been to the Bellerine Peninsular since I was a child and in complete honesty I could barely remember it. I hoped that it was the weekend away from all of the business I had hoped for: getaways are long sought after by everyone. As the week drew closer to our mini-trip I scrutinized the Bureau of Meteorology hoping that the enduring Winter would cease for two days and a glimmer of Spring could finally shine through, allowing myself to give Springhill House the review it so deserved. Perfect weather always accumulates to perfection in general experiences I've found.
That Saturday morning, I awoke to a glorious day beaming through my window, practically inviting the whole of Victoria to rejoice in the long awaited sunshine that seemed eternally lost after one of the coldest Winters in years; this was not an exaggeration. The drive down was a smooth one, my writing companion and I listened to George Michael, whilst feeling fruity with the glorious weather. It wasn't long before we arrived at Springhill House just as our in car navigation had directed us. Pulling in the drive I was instantly impressed by the crisp cream exterior of a Hamptons inspired, Heritage listed manor house exuding rustic charm. Ivy covers one of the annexes, a delicate flag of pink rose prints ruffles majestically above the front door.
An expansive deck wraps around the Federation inspired veranda, with French doors leading out to an alfresco dining area; the perfect place to indulge in your morning tea or coffee. We are introduced to the owners who will be our hosts for the weekend, a jovial husband and wife with a zest for life and a clear passion for this piece of Australian history.
They insist we must see our room, and my colleague and I are guided through their private residence (which is not normal practice, but I assume due to our status and the mutual agreement that I would review Springhill if I was impressed, that this is their way of extending a full and open welcome). Soon, after following our hosts through a magnificent country kitchen and tapestry-lined hallway, our room is presented to us.
The Bellarine Room: it reminds me of a fresh take on a Jane Austin classic. The linen is clean, crisp but neutral colours, the furniture antique and grandiose. Personally, I am a self confessed heartthrob to Melbourne's Windsor Hotel and the Bellarine Room does not disappoint or distinguish itself so differently, to a point where it is impressive. The room is immaculate. Both my writing companion and I automatically comment that this room is the most homely room we have ever stayed in. Nothing is stagnant or clinical, instead, the getaway has begun to feel like a home away from home and we have just arrived.
Our enthusiastic, professional hosts lead us back into the kitchen for lunch. They have prepared dainty sandwiches and again, although we know that meals are not usually included within boutique luxury accommodation, our hosts want to spoil us, they want to welcome us; and that they do. After delightful chicken and avocado sandwiches and a shared pot of Assam Bold Tea, our hostess ushers us outside. It is time to see the two other main Suites. Both are booked for the evening, however those guests do not arrive until two o'clock that afternoon and our zealous host wishes for us to peruse the premises; she is proud and has ever right to be so.
The Pardalote Suite is chic, cosmopolitan and sleek. It is the perfect suite for a romantic couple to book on a weekend away. The bold tones and soft furnishings allow for secluded privacy away from the property frontage. This suite is accompanied by two miniature terrace spaces with surprisingly similar form and function as the larger terrace. It's welcoming.
The Springhill Suite is located in the heritage listed sector of the property and reminds me of a scene straight out of a film that would star a biographic of Marie Antoinette. The French antique feel, mixed delicately with a private lounge and bathroom that includes a ceiling rain shower is impressive. This Suite reminds me of something you would see at the Waldorf Rome Astoria, but instead a rosella argues outside of the window and you realize you're in Australia.
Dinner is elaborate, after spending the afternoon with my friend and colleague Nick Grant (writer for the Column Granted), drinking tea and eating audacious canapés on the terrace. By this stage, a part of me genuinely thinks I couldn't possibly eat any more. Our gracious female host however lays a spread that nobody could refuse, the most delicious chicken and mango salad, with herbed potatoes and warm, buttered olive bread. The champagne is flowing and our hosts are telling us about the bones of Springhill House, its many colourful visitors over the years and we review before-and-after photos of their renovations; which is outstandingly impressive. The male host, the husband, leaves the table and exclaims he is going to make us all pancakes. Would anyone say no to midnight pancakes with every lashing of spread and cream and berries possible?
As I retire to my room to be enveloped by slumber, I am pleasantly surprised that the bed is as comfortable as the aesthetic coordination of the property and the room I occupy. Usually, when I am away from my own bed I generally don't sleep well, I think it's more of a security issue. However, Springhill House granted me the best "getaway" sleep I have ever experienced. It is my theory that because the property is so comfortable and homely, one can automatically and subconsciously relax as they would within their own personal environment.
The next morning I awake to the smell of tea, coffee and toast, but I am not disturbed by noise. I question why this is and the hostess wife of the family informs me that all rooms are sound proof, which I consider an incredible implementation. Seriously, I can't even count the number of hotels or boutique accommodations where I have laid awake listening the intimate goings-on or heated arguing of couples and families alike.
Today our hosts are taking Nick and I to see the surrounding area; the bay, the seaside. Lunch at a rustic organic cafe called Grow is on the cards in Point Lonsdale. The area is truly beautiful, this is a slice of Victoria that cannot be missed. The weather, still gloriously sunny allows for the most relaxing and wonderful afternoon.
But alas, it is Sunday evening now and the constraints of the 'real world' call us to return to Melbourne. I genuinely don't want to leave, but, by the same token, I'm feel like I've been away for weeks. That's the environment here: low intensity, grandiose opulence and gorgeous grounds that allow nothing but one to feel swallowed in a sense of peace and tranquillity.
Springhill House Boutique Accommodation Estate is a stones' throw walk from the seaside, cafes and restaurants and natural conservation parks. Its setting and landscape allows holiday makers cosmopolitan grandeur with the relaxation of a semi-rural seaside getaway. If you have a weekend in which you are planning to get away, I highly recommend paying a visit to this beautiful, spotlessly clean and highly organized Estate home.
If 'home is where the heart is', then Springhill house has seen more hearts than a cardiovascular surgeon. This my friends, is its greatest quality: warmth and heart, both in abundance and immeasurable within its’ grounds. Oh... and did I mention the fabulous taste?
Springhill is not an acquired taste, but if you don't like it? You really should acquire some taste.
Do so, and book yourself a piece of heaven.
To Book at 'SpringHill on Pardalote' please visit the links below:
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| The main reception 'Springhill' reception room. |
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| Point Lonsdale Beach Front |
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| Nick indulging in his inner beachside, hipster fashion movement |
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| The Front Entrance and Driveway of 'SpringHill House' |
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| The extensive gardens and relaxing running water sounds of 'SpringHill' |
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| View from the decking and seating between the blooming lavender |
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| Vintage cars line the main restaurant strip, assisting an old world charm feel |
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| Queenscliff Beach Front |
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| Front alfresco dining area of 'SpringHill' |
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| Chicken and Mango salad served by our gracious and friendly hosts |
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| Strolling throughout the Conservation water reserve |
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| The 'Springhill Suite' private lounge area |
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| In all seasons 'Springhill' is welcoming |
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| The majestic glow of early evenings at 'Springhill' |
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| The 'Springhill Suite' bedroom |
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| Midnight pancakes that no one could refuse |
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| 'Springhill Suite' bathroom with ceiling rainfall shower |
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| Nick and I relaxing in the reception room near the fireplace |
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Join George Clooney and the celebrities to a place of bliss
Travel Writer Victoria Sorace
Thirty minutes later we arrived in the lobby of our hotel checked in and went straight to dinner (at the hotel). Dinner is very formal at the Grand Hotel Tremezzo and does not disappoint. By comparison this dinner was comparable to dining in one of Melbourne’s finest restaurants. The waiters here in this hotel (although we found this throughout Como) are a little stuck in the gallantry of yesteryear and they still regenerated the old fashioned silver dome over your meal. Amusingly the waiters deliver the meals all together; to one’s table and make a song of uno, due, tre, and lift off the silver domes in unison to the enjoyment of all. The spring lamb was beautifully crusted in a herb and wine jus and after a delicious main course and a fair amount of vino, we retired for the evening.
Awakening at 8am the following morning to the most beautiful sound of village church bells, I jumped out of bed to view my surrounds. Lago di Como as the Italians say it is‘one of the most beautiful romantic places on earth’. Once showered and full from feasting on the tastiest scrambled eggs. I’m not sure what the italins are making them with, but my word it’s easy to get plump on the eggs alone (not to mention the copious amounts of pasta). About three hundred yards from the Hotel, you can walk to the pier and catch the Ferry to Bellagio. This is the form of the public transport system and a daily ticket links you to an array of small towns and villages along this picturesque lake. Lake Como is the third largest lake in Italy and is of glacial origin. It resides in the region known as Lombardy.
Bellagio was one of the towns visited and to commute their using the ferryboats you pass the Villas of the rich and famous. Disembarking from the water ferry with a pleasant Italian wishing us a wonderful day, somewhat consoling to know that the Ferry’s depart on the hour every hour. You won’t be stranded, not that it would be of great travesty.
What’s the most beautiful way to spend a day? You can jump on and off the water ferry’s to many different quaint towns . What to eat? The Northern style of pasta is very different to the southern regions of Italy and beautifully cooked as almost every Italian meal is. The gelato is magnificent albeit the ice-creams, they present an uncommon creamy taste from the lush pastures surrounding. The shops are plentiful and every towns, (i.e. Bellagio) market days are worth attending. Each town has its own Market days abounding all kinds of trinkets to fine-looking (and tasting) hot donuts and mouth-watering fruits. One most Donne flat shoes as most of the towns have cobbled streets, which isn’t conducive to heels.
Not to be missed is a trip to Milan where one can visit the Duomo. This is the third largest church in Christendom, A staggering 3,500 statues and has the most amazing Baroque and neo gothic façade as well as five bronzed doors carved by five different artists! It took five hundred years to complete and work still continues today. To appreciate this beautiful building, you must venture on the roof where one can also appreciate the view of the Swiss Alps. Savor the flavors of the Milanese cuisine and visit the oldest shopping mall in the world. A Milanese coffee should must and also that dreadful credit card (shocking when you get home and are greeted by your impending debt) will come in handy, as the shops garnish must haves.
The Funicular railway is a must in the Town of Como. It took us an hour of talking our selves into this unbelievable ride. For five Euros round trip it is value for money. Being afraid of heights and not for the faint hearted this is a very daunting experience, but thoroughly worth doing and such a fun ride. If you have an extra ninety minutes the tram is a fabulous way to see the Lake from above. Also not forgetting The Basilica of San Fedele, a very peaceful and charming church, in the middle of town is worthy of a visit.
Each day we ventured to a different part of the lake to experience the individual, old-world villages and towns ornamenting the Lake. One day however, we booked a tour to the Town of St Moritz. A private car picks you up and takes you to your coach. Spending a fabulous day in this very upmarket breathtaking part of Switzerland. The railway to the top of the peak is also unbelievable with everyone oohing and ahhring along the way. At the top the bus meets you and in twenty minutes you are sitting amongst snow covered peaks in a beautiful Swiss town; dining on potato frittatas and local made sausages with pints of local lager or wine or mugs of hot chocolate – of course liquid Lindt.
Lake Como is a central point for so much or so little. It can be very busy and you can bustle along with the other tourists from May to September or visit in early October when the tourists have left and still enjoy the mild weather and the slower pace to really relax. This famous impressive Utopia is always going to be a destination for the most discerning traveller and to keep rambling does not do this magnificent part of the world justice. It does however, remain a constant memory, for me, as I gaze around the room at work or out of my office window. Lake Como gets a strange hold on you and one visit will never, ever, be enough.
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“I feel the need… the need for speed” – Top Gun
When I arrived at the Avalon Airshow with ‘My Mumsy’, ‘The Giant’ and ‘The Jewish Lawyer’, we were energized and undoubtedly awe struck at seeing the F-22 fighter jet roaring above.
‘The Jew’ looks at me and says with shock value “Do you have a towel and a change of underwear Claude? I’ve made a mess downstairs watching that thing”. ‘The Jewish Lawyer’ is always bold and uncensored, but we were all feeling a little like that. We hadn’t even made it to the actual show yet; we were merely walking through the gargantuan car park. ‘The Jewish Lawyer’ (as he is fine to be aptly named, just so any of you politically correct folk were wondering) and the rest of us simply felt the need…the need for speed.
The thing is, you don’t really need to see much else, once you’ve seen the F-22 in action. It’s an experience in itself. After watching the Pilot fruitcake aka. Mr. Awesome (at left); fly it, you’re feeling romantic and invigorated enough to quote top gun, no matter how many have done it before you.
“Our weather ain’t perfect, but damn, is it hot today!” (Commentated a very rotund, albeit enthusiastic and pleasant American), being Melbourne’s second day of autumn one would expect slightly cooler, however mid twenties conditions. Not today. A dry, crunchy (the ground) and a stifling 34 °C which converts for my American friends to approximately 93.2 °F. Basically, when you are walking through an airfield with nothing but, tarmac, dust and sheep around you, your enthusiasm begins to wane. One because nothing can compare to the F-22 and secondly because although 34 °C is just dandy if you’re sitting inside air conditioning, it’s most definitely not when roasting your bare arms in the Australian UV rays.
The families. They cometh in droves, all of different demographics and socio-economic statuses. Personally, I don’t really see the appeal in taking a 2 year old along to an air show, trying to force ear plugs repeatedly in said toddlers ears and every time said child takes them out patiently, yet exhaustedly repeat (overheard by another American mother who by 3pm looked harebrained and wearied) “Chester, you have to wear them. Coooomme onnnn do it for Mommy!”
But, don’t take my opinion on this one; everyone knows where Bryn and I sit when it comes to families. I will recommend this though, for those singles or couples wishing to enjoy a more child-ambush free Avalon Air show, try and arrange yourself a trade show ticket. This will cut out the ‘family’ factor in replacement of aviation professionals. However for the families wishing to brave the flies, heat, loud noises and inevitable temper tantrums, with patience (I applaud you, I really do) simply logic follows that ‘families like other families’ so really, you’ll be just fine.
So, instead of trying to sound very technical and give you my own wrap up of what clearly was the highlight of the show for me, here is an exert from the Avalon Air Show website (link credited below) on what the F-22 is actually capable of:
“The Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor – the world's premier 5TH generation fighter.
The F-22 is the only fighter capable of simultaneously conducting air-to-air and air-to-ground combat missions with near impunity. This is accomplished with a never-before-seen standard of survivability even while facing large numbers of sophisticated airborne and ground-based threats.
In addition to being America's most prominent air-superiority fighter, the F-22 evolved from its original concept to become a lethal, survivable and flexible multimission fighter. By taking advantage of emerging technologies the F-22 has emerged as a superior platform for many diverse missions including intelligence gathering, surveillance, reconnaissance and electronic attack.
The Raptor is operational today and combat ready for worldwide deployment”.
Needless to say, this Aircraft is incredible. The show? It is worth it to see the F-22 and the vintage aircraft “Connie” that was built between 1943-1958 (she is surprisingly quiet for her age). Also, if you’re a plane fanatic you will be animated by being able to walk under a B 52 Bomber, which has been employed and run by the United States Air Force since 1950.
The Australian Air force and Australian Army ground displays and demonstrations did leave a lot to be desired and ultimately acted as ‘space fillers’, however lacked severely in being able to achieve this. The food available was sufficient, however the wait times (I’ll blame this one on the families) is appalling and once you have finally got your juicy ‘Grill’d Burger’ there is literally no where to sit and eat it, unless you are prepared to violently remove some pensioners and families from the limited seating available, and trust me when it’s this hot and there is limited seating they will fight back – with a vengeance.
A fact filler is though; whimsically the Australian Biblical Society fly and display their own Cessna aircraft which ‘The Jewish Lawyer’ pointedly exclaimed “At least you know if you’re going down in it, you’re actually going up”.
Claudia Sorace - Creative Director & Profesional writer (Reviewer)
Photography provided by Andre Elhay
New Yorker, New Yorker
Inflight dining, tray tables up!
Creative Director - Claudia Sorace
For air travel within Australia, I usually
choose to fly either Virgin Australia or Qantas. For me, they have been sitting
on par with each other since Virgin romantically rebranded and Qantas culled
their prehistoric check-in staff with the easy to use, electronic kiosk.
However, on my recent trip to the Southern Highlands, I flew Virgin into
Sydney. My complaint, you may see as petty, even absurd. Secretly though, I
have been flying Virgin Australia moreso, for their Luke Mangan ‘New Yorker’
sandwich. Perfectly accompanied by a Mr and Mrs. T Virgin Margarita tomato
juice. The New Yorker (or as it should be named ‘the nastiest god damn sandwich
you’ll eat in Australia) was literally what kept me flying Virgin.
Are you considering that I have limited dining
experience? Incorrect. I am Alex Beazley’s ‘Blonde’ that is referred in all of
his food critic posts. In fact, the narcissist in me would go as far to say;
you would struggle to find a woman my age that has had the privilege of
accompanying him, extensively to some of the best restaurants in Australia. Simply
put, I know my food.
Back to my sandwich; a perfect delicate
combination of pastrami, coleslaw, Swiss cheese, pickle, the thickest spread of
butter you can imagine. My mouth simply waters at its modest flawlessness. I
sat exhausted on my departure flight waiting eagerly for the food trolley to
come around. Averting sleep, I was not going to miss out on getting my hands on
my beloved New Yorker. Disappointedly, the flight hostess informs me that as it
is a late flight, they are all out of New Yorkers.
There is hope yet, in three days after battling floods and horrendous cyclones,
one cancelled flight and a rescheduled flight, and I would be flying again.
This time, an earlier flight, so I would have my sandwich. Alas, I am seriously
(like seriously) fighting my in flight narcolepsy to hold out for the food
service. “One New Yorker please, and a Mr. and Mrs. T tomato juice” I ask the
hostess excitedly. “My Pleasure, one moment ma’am” The hostess exclaims and
toddles off.
As she walks back, I sense the ominous
sadness that will envelope me when she speaks the words I am praying she won’t
utter, I can sense she’s going to say they have been sold out. It is something
you must understand, if you want the worlds best sandwich you have to comprehend
that everyone else will too “I apologize ma’am, it appears our menu has
changed, the New Yorker has been replaced with a chicken sandwich”. By this
stage, I’m trying to stay composed, as she relays “It isn’t so different than
the New Yorker, I suggest you try it”. So I did. It is entirely different to
the New Yorker. If the New Yorker was the Queen of England the new replacement
‘Chicken Sandwich’ is a bum on the sidewalk.
Virgin Australia, what were you thinking? This is the greatest inflight dining tragedy of all time.
R.I.P New Yorker.
My in flight dining will
never be the same.
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Forced to Fly low budget
Creative Director - Claudia Sorace
As Bryn, my business partner details in his previous blog posts,
our disdain for flying 'low cost' is generally ripe, ever healthy by the
material budget passengers and staff serve you, voluntarily.
You see I recently lengthened my stay in Brisbane. Originally
for the soul purpose that a couple close to my heart (or that black void where
my heart is supposed to be) were getting married in a tropical affair.
I became a little over indulgent, wining and dining - post
wedding with our food critic Alex Beazley. Beazley and I have a long history
of really over doing it, we travel extravagantly and are always left in fits of
laughter. But it's always a good time guaranteed.
Upon changing my flight, I was forced (due to time constraints,
flight times and convenience) to fly the super budget airline Jetstar.
As I'm getting older (Yes, I am considering 25 now in my dotage)
I'm becoming less tolerant of the inane morons that plague society. I have four
years airline experience behind me, so just quietly (I know how this caper
works). With a security line bigger than I care to elaborate on, and running
late due to check-in delays I kindly asked the Jetstar attendant at security
"Excuse me Ma'am is there a security express queue?"
In which the drongo eyed fool replied, "You have to go
through security...you just can't skip it". Well thank you. Firstly for
not answering my question, but secondly assuming that I lack so much general
and social intelligence not to know that everyone is required to pass through security.
Hell, I thought being more important than everyone they would just assume I'm
too pure and worthy to be carrying any dangerous goods. The only dangerous good
being my face, and that's something you can't ban from air travel.
Anyhow, It must be some kind of curse placed on me, or a just
the beauty of 'sod's law that gets me every time. Of course, naturally I'm
placed in the middle seat, but what's more? Suddenly, a wild snorlax appeared!
What's this? I have to endure an entire flight next to a man that resembles
Hagrid and Fat Bastards love child.
Food is amazing, I understand that much. I'm not about to attack someone who carries a little more cushion for the pushin'. By all means, shake what yo' mamma gave you and that bag of chips. Honestly though, I was only privileged to half of my seat, in which my weighty neighbour decided was the rest of his for the taking. I'm what you consider a "smaller" person. I stand at 5'4 and a reasonable body mass to compliment my stature.
I literally couldn't move. When I was able to purchase a drink,
I was forced to sip my tonic water up around my neck. My tray table you see was
prohibited use, because of the shear girth that hung from said larger passenger
in question. From what I ascertain he had a lovely, sleep. As gigantor began to
snore, he moved and I was of course, given an involuntary bath in my schweppervescence.
By this stage I needed a tonic, but it was beyond being water
based. I'm quite aware this is a segregated issue to one passenger, but you see
for safety, if I'd have even needed to execute the brace position I would have
been unable to. Quite frankly, I’m surprised the aircraft wasn’t in a
consistent state of left hand bank throughout the entire flight. The mere fact
that we didn’t over shoot the runway is a miracle I am still trying to
comprehend.
Will I be flying them again? Probably not. I have always flown
the Qantas flag high, but your cheap baby offset airline isn't one I'll
entertain again. This major issue (pun intended), plus the unhelpful staff and
their assuming everyone who takes to the skies with them is a first timer isn't
cutting that customer service mustard.
I can't say I'll be jumping little metaphorical stars in the air
anytime soon. As “Shana” the hostess without the most-ess began to discuss her
trip to Bali with boyfriend “Jayden” with the cabin manager; I wondered even
how anyone could tolerate this tirade of cheap much longer. Of course then,
naturally a baby starts to cry and “Shana” begins a conversation about how her
and “Jayden” can’t wait to have little babies (or bouncing, baby bogans).
Of course I must stomach all demographics and I’m sure my foul
mood was encouraged by my lack of space and oxygen. However, any hope that Jetstar
had in redeeming itself crashed and burned when our aptly named hostess
announced to our end of the aircraft “turn off ya phones or ya not gettin' off
the plane”.
Eloquent as ever my dear, but I guess now we’re grounded, it's back
to business for me at least. My last words are that Ed Hardy wouldn’t have collapsed
into bankruptcy if Jetstar had targeted their audience with in-flight shopping
and merchandise sales. Food for thought?
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"Cheap, but not so cheerful"
Bryn takes to the skies, in budget
Business Director - Bryn Thomas
Business Director - Bryn Thomas
It is common knowledge amongst my friends that I can be a bit conceited when it comes to air travel within Australia. I am a little ashamed to admit that the likes of Tiger and Jetstar have never really entered my repertoire. I even have my reservations about Virgin Australia…I’m sorry but just because you got rid of those heinous tan pants doesn’t make you ‘a new world carrier’.
But anyway I digress, I think the one and only time I braved the low-cost carrier was many years ago on a short Jetstar flight from Adelaide to Melbourne. Walking across the tarmac to the aircraft (which looked like something from the 70s), I found myself in a rugby scrum of arms and legs fighting to gain access to the air stairs. It was then that I became aware that there was no allocated seating on the aircraft and the hoard of animals I was entangled with were desperately trying to gain access to the aircraft to reserve seats for families and friends.
Well the fight was on for young and old, and I am not ashamed to admit that there were a few stray elbows, nudging and possible biting. Unfortunately though, I did not have a battering ram (aka the unsuspecting child) to gain access and I found myself in a rather awful seat right down the back next to…you guessed it a baby! The flight itself was delayed, full of families (I don’t like children at the best of times, let along stuck in a confined space with dozens of them) and the interior of the plane looked like it should have been preserved in a museum. To top things off, the flight arrived at Avalon airport and the taxi fare to Melbourne cost more than my savings on the ticket. I vowed never to fly low cost again!
Well the fight was on for young and old, and I am not ashamed to admit that there were a few stray elbows, nudging and possible biting. Unfortunately though, I did not have a battering ram (aka the unsuspecting child) to gain access and I found myself in a rather awful seat right down the back next to…you guessed it a baby! The flight itself was delayed, full of families (I don’t like children at the best of times, let along stuck in a confined space with dozens of them) and the interior of the plane looked like it should have been preserved in a museum. To top things off, the flight arrived at Avalon airport and the taxi fare to Melbourne cost more than my savings on the ticket. I vowed never to fly low cost again!
Recently, however I found myself attending a ‘guys weekend’ away in Sydney with a few mates. My friends tried to convince me that flying Tiger Airways up and Jetstar back would save money and ‘it would be good for me’. This time they didn’t except my ‘I’m busy at that time, how about I meet you there.’ story and insisted we all travel together. So despite my feeble pleas, I recovered from my horrible memory-induced fetal position and the tickets were booked.
To be honest, Melbourne to Sydney is really only a one-hour flight, and I am quite happy to use the ‘air stairs’. In fact, I quite like walking along the tarmac and looking at the various aeroplanes and airport workings. I am even happy to forego the complimentary glass of champagne (although some may disagree) and be bent like a pretzel to fit in the seat for an hour, but at risk of sounding like a snob, it’s the people that scare me off the most. I cringe to think I may have to share my breathing space with a singlet-wearing, loud outspoken boogan…or worse a child! You know the ones I mean; we’ve all seen them on Airways, raging and ranting or more recently on The Shire. How they get camera time I will never know.
So the flights you may ask? I must say the whole ordeal was rather pain free.
Tiger
With online check-in these days, there was no need to wait in line and miss the all-stressful cut-off time, which we always see on Airways. The “I’m only one minute late! I will never fly with you again!” scenario. I quite literally walked through the airport and out onto the aircraft without hardly waiting in line at all. The doors shut behind me right on schedule and I was greeted by a smiling flight attendant who offered to take my bag for me whilst I found my seat. I can’t even remember the last time a premium carrier did that for me! The flight being midweek, appeared to be virtually child-free, and I daresay I spotted a few business people on board. The aircraft also arrived ten minutes early into Sydney and before I could check my vital signs, I was on the Harbour sipping a latte.
Jetstar
Jetstar was much the same. Gone was the ancient antique of an aircraft that I previously experienced, and in its place was a shiny new A320 with a fresh, albeit cramped interior. Again the door literally shut behind me and I was greeted by another friendly flight attendant. We briefly discussed our day and I found my seat. After a somewhat big night the evening before, I slept for the duration of the flight and awoke to an arrival time 30 minutes early!
I was pleasantly surprised with the whole experience. Yes, the conditions are cramped and you don’t get your free 1000-calorie biscuit. But for the price we paid, I really can’t complain. I think the total cost was $110 return. So my recommendation? It pays to know someone in the industry! Someone who can allocate your seats, block out seats around you and can check you in!
Seriously though, if you are after a bargain without the nostalgia of air travel (think shuttle bus style) then you should definitely consider these options. For all my fashion-friends out there thinking that the Tiger airways livery will never match anything you own, I suggest stick to what you are comfortable with. Although, it’s always good to try something new. You may be pleasantly surprised!
Seriously though, if you are after a bargain without the nostalgia of air travel (think shuttle bus style) then you should definitely consider these options. For all my fashion-friends out there thinking that the Tiger airways livery will never match anything you own, I suggest stick to what you are comfortable with. Although, it’s always good to try something new. You may be pleasantly surprised!
Positively the fares are dropping, however sadly it appears my standards are also...
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