“Out on the patio, we sit, and the humidity, we breathe. We watch the lightening, crack over cane fields, and laugh and think, this is Australia…” Gang Gajang
IT’S more rooftop terrace, than patio, the humidity has conceded to a ballsy bay breeze, there’s fireworks, rather than lightening, and the cane fields sit a bit further north. Australia Day, 2019, and I’m plonked on the rooftop of the sassy Sebel Margate overlooking Moreton Bay, perched on a bar stool, clutching a crisp Aussie white, and spinning a bit of bullshit with two mates. A cheeky breeze has whipped the white caps into a minor celebrity frenzy, while along the bay, Aussies have hoisted makeshift tents adorned with Southern Cross flags. One bloke has even settled in for a long day of drinking by dragging his tattered, brown leather loungeroom recliner chair, and planting it along the boardwalk. You’ve got to admire that sort of commitment.
I’m 45 minutes north-east of Brisbane, celebrating our January 26 national day in style, in this bayside suburb which harks back to a more serene Australia. One of seagulls, sand and simplicity. The prevailing hot northerly has blown in both blue bottles and bare bums, festooned with our controversial Union Jack/Southern Cross combo. Down on the street, there’s even a rare telephone booth. Out on the blustery bay itself, a fleet of sailing boats is leaning a bit too far to the right, reminding me a bit of Australia these days. Some days you just have to wait to tack.
From my lofty perch on the fourth floor, I spy a luxury cruise liner slowly stalking Moreton Island on the horizon. It’s the same bay which lured my great, great grandfather Christian to sail from Hamburg aboard the Susanne Godeffroy in 1863, in search of a better life. Five generations later, I still carry his surname, and in my wildest dreams, when I’m out in the world as a travel writer, I like to think I’ve also inherited some of his pluck. The Australia Day weekend is the unofficial marker for Aussies to seriously return to work and school, and soon enough, I too will be setting sail again in search of stories. But on this day, I’m content in my chair on the rooftop where a barbecue sizzles along with the conversation. How lucky are we to be born in Australia? Even better, in south-east Queensland, with beautiful bays and boutique hotels to boot?
The $15 million Sebel Brisbane Margate Beach, opened in May last year, is a lovely addition to this seaside scene. I am fortunate on this busy summer weekend to have secured a king-suite in this 58-room hotel, which eschews a beachy interior in favour of industrial chic with its exposed brick walls, brass, and cow hide leather couches. There’s even free retro bicycles for guests to borrow and cycle along the esplanade here. Dine at the Margate Beach House on the ground floor and you’ll experience the creativity of two-hatted chef Michael Harris, whose career launched at the flagship London hotel, the Dorchester. Overlook the bay and feast on local Queensland produce such as Smoked King Ora salmon and Fraser Island Crab cannelloni; Darling Downs Wagyu; and Mango and Passionfruit cheese cake.
Sated, plonk yourself by the rooftop pool and watch lazy bay days unfold. And that’s what this bay, and the Sebel Margate, is all about. This is no glamorous Gold Coast, nor is it the sizzling Sunshine Coast. Rather, this darling destination transports you back to an Australia you might remember, one of sandcastles and sun-kissed sleeps. Late at night I sit on my oceanfront balcony and look out at the Southern Cross sky. I don’t need these five stars tattooed on my skin, as they’re deeply etched in my soul. I had just forgotten, for a brief moment in my busy life, where to find them.
The Global Goddess stayed as a guest of The Sebel Brisbane Margate Beach. https://www.accorhotels.com/gb/hotel-B2R3-the-sebel-brisbane-margate-beach-/index.shtml
“At home, I was a stranger to myself, and, on the road, a stranger to everyone else. I longed to belong, but I didn’t know where,” Irish Travel Writer Jean Butler
I AM perched in a loft bedroom overlooking Bundaberg’s Burnett River, surveying the sailing boats bobbing on the water and wondering about the stories of the sailors within. I long to know what these old salts could tell me about the horizons they have crossed. After a busy year out in the world myself, I have returned “home” but not quite. At the last minute I have accepted an invitation to return to Bundaberg, on Queensland’s Southern Great Barrier Reef, and I find myself at the Burnett Riverside Motel, sitting in the new H20 restaurant and bar, with the new general managers Ian and Karyn Wade-Parker.
I sip a Bargara Brewery Ray Xpa and chat to this charming couple who are injecting as much local flavour into this experience as possible. This dynamic duo, who have worked in tourism and hospitality for decades, had a longing to return to Queensland after a stint in drought-stricken New South Wales. It was a heart-breaking time for this pair, who despite running a successful business, witnessed first-hand the effect of the drought on their community. And for Karyn, who grew up in Charleville in Outback Queensland, it’s a special homecoming.
“We needed to get back to the water. What we are trying to create here in Bundy is something that will go well,” Ian says.
“It is needed. There is a percentage of people who are looking for quality. The opportunity that we have here is to give Bundy a bit more maturity. It is moving from a country town into the next thing.
“We are rated four-star but what we are about to deliver is a five-star hotel experience.”
And it’s evident in the menu. Sip on a Bargara Brewery beer, cradle a Bundy rum or scoff a local Kalki Moon gin and watch the river change colours in the late afternoon before you dine on a menu which shouts Bundaberg loud and proud. On this colourful card you’ll find the likes of Bundaberg Brewed Sarsaparilla Sticky Pilled Pork; Bargara Brewery Black Braised Lamb Shanks; Kalki Moon (gin) Butter Basted Salmon; and even a Bundaberg Rum Coffee brulee. The next stage for Ian and Karyn is to oversee the renovation of this 44-room motel, which boasts eight different room styles, including the four loft rooms.
“It’s about those little one per cent (changes) that turn the experience into something that’s OK into something extraordinary,” Ian says.
“We look at it from a customer’s point of view. You turn it into your home. It is an extension.”
The theme of “coming home” resonates on this trip. I have coffee down at the beach with Christine from Bargara Coastal Accommodation; drinks and dinner with Tracy whose underwater photos of the Southern Great Barrier Reef will make your toes curl; and breakfast with Katherine from Bundaberg Tourism. I enjoy a long chat with Suzie from Bundy Food Tours about her recent Queensland Tourism Awards win; and Rick from Kalki Moon Distillery tells me how his gin is winning awards in London. I drop into the new headquarters of Bundaberg Tourism, Spring Hill House, a former Queenslander home built in 1883. I catch up with this hard-working crew who treat me like family each time I return. Plonked at the back of the Bundaberg Rum Distillery, the sparkly new Visitor Information sits next door. Here visitors are treated like royalty, and encouraged to sit and stay and peruse the incredible experiences they can have on offer in the region.
Back inside Bundy Tourism’s new digs it’s all tin and timber, polished wooden floors and even a friendly resident ghost. They think it’s the oldest daughter, Mary-Ann, of the original Noakes family who inhabited this former sugar cane plantation house. It appears Mary-Ann approves of her new inhabitants. And for me, wandering the halls of this Queenslander, it reminds me of my home, back in Brisbane. The place that sustains me on those lonely days when I’m out on the road, and I dream of my fragrant frangipani tree off my big, back deck, and those summer nights punctuated by a chorus of cicadas.
And it’s from that very spot, on the back deck of my Queenslander cottage in Brisbane, that I’m penning my final travel blog of 2018. And what a year it’s been. I have trained to be a Ninja Warrior in Japan; trekked in Nepal to meet the SASANE survivors of sex trafficking; wandered the humid back alleys of Bangkok tasting street food; island-hopped in the Southern Great Barrier Reef; fine-dined in Noosa; been pampered in Abu Dhabi; discovered the secret of happiness in Bhutan; explored Sydney’s secret Tank Stream; driven up the guts of Australia from Uluru to Humpty Doo in the Northern Territory; experienced Thailand’s Koh Khood; danced till I dropped at my niece’s wedding in Emerald; met inspiring Indigenous operators in Tropical North Queensland; tasted tapas and life as it should be lived in Spain; laughed with a mate in Prague; hugged my family in Germany; snorkelled in Samoa; and hidden away in the hills of Byron Bay.
It’s been a year that has enriched me beyond belief, and refuelled this sassy story teller with a thirst for the world. A huge thank you to all of the PR people, tourism operators, and the random strangers who swept me up and took me with you on this journey. It takes intellect, courage, and above all, a generosity of spirit to take the time to tell me your stories and I can’t wait to get back out there in 2019 and do it all again.
The Global Goddess travelled to Bundaberg with the assistance of Bundaberg Tourism https://www.bundabergregion.org and Burnett Riverside Motel http://www.burnettriversidemotel.com.au
IT was bone-chillingly cold, still dark, and far too early to be checking in for yet another flight, in what had been an already hectic year. But there I was, at Canada’s Winnipeg Airport, heavily clad in winter clobber and dragging behind me a duffle bag containing a polar suit and kick-arse thermal boots. I was bound for Churchill, where I would board a tiny, old Russian jet, and land in remote Hudson Bay, to go on a walking safari with the polar bears. I was far more scared of the cold than meeting the King of the Arctic.
I did not know her yet, but I recognised her as part of my group from the same duffle bag she was carrying. She spoke, in a refined British accent, and while I cannot remember what it is she said, it prompted me to say “Hello, you Pommie Bastard, are you on my trip?”. She turned, smiled, and immediately responded with “Hello Skippy!” And from that point onwards, we became friends. I did not know at the time that Karen Burns-Booth was one of Britain’s best bloggers and a renowned foodie, I just knew that I had a new playmate with whom to explore remote, arctic Canada on this travel writing assignment.
I told her I hated small planes, so she sat behind me on the flight as we soared over this spectacular winter landscape, patting me on the back when we encountered turbulence. While out walking on the slippery arctic ice, we held hands, to prevent from falling. We stood in unison and cried when we encountered the most beautiful polar bears and laughed till we cried by the warm Seal River Lodge fireplace at night. We shared deep secrets out on that ice. That was several years ago now, she went back to her home in France, and I to Brisbane. But you don’t forget a friendship forged like that.
Karen Burns-Booth has just released her first book, named after her blog Lavender & Lovage – A Culinary Notebook of Memories & Recipes from Home & Abroad ¬– and I couldn’t be prouder of my feisty friend. Just back from a hectic year of travels, I collected the copy she had sent me, from the post office last week. And on those pages, I can sense her soul and smell her cooking even from this far away. Part travel memoir, part cookbook, Karen, who now lives in Wales, gives readers an insight into her full and flavoursome life.
“In this book I’ll be sharing recipes from an old schoolhouse kitchen in North Wales, a farmhouse kitchen in SW France, and from all the other places I have called home,” she says.
“From Cornwall, Hong Kong and South Africa, to the North East of England and numerous other far-flung places, with the aid of my trusty note books and diaries – this is truly a cookbook based on recipes from my suitcase, with notes from all of the countries and British counties I have ever lived and eaten in.”
In this delicious, thick tome, Karen shares some spectacular dishes and travel tales. There’s the “Typhoon” Bacon Butty, made by her father when they were living in Hong Kong during a typhoon; The First Nations “Indian Tacos”; The New Orleans Muffuleta Sandwich; “Panama Canal” Coronation Chicken; and Durban Lamb Curry among a feast of international dishes. Demonstrating her cheeky sense of humour, there’s a whole chapter dedicated to A Bit On The Side, which refers to Salads and Accompaniments; and towards the back of the book, decadent deserts such as Fat Rascals; as well as Sundry Gems such as Hannah’s Chilli Chicken Pasta with Chorizo, named after her daughter.
The gorgeous recipes and tantalising travel tales aside, what really strikes me about this beautiful book, is that I can feel Karen’s lovely soul as I wander through these pages. It’s almost as if I’m in a field, plucking her two favourite herbs, lavender and lovage, after which she named her blog and which launched her into our kitchens. If you’re lucky, like me, you stumble across generous, funny souls who become your friends in the most unlikely of places. The fact she is also so talented, is simply a plus. It’s the Christmas season, and I am reminded of this British gem, the “Pommie Bastard” who held my hand on the ice and whispered secrets in the arctic cold. May all of Karen’s readers, and mine too, be so fortunate to find a stranger who may hold your hand when you need it, and share their souls on those days when you feel its arctic cold and a little alone. This is my Christmas wish for you.
To order Karen’s book, go to Amazon or to read more about her work, go to her blog Lavender and Lovage – https://www.lavenderandlovage.com
THE waves are whispering off the reef, but in my half-awake/half-asleep daytime slumber, I can’t quite catch what it is they are saying. I am snatching a languid nap on the veranda day bed, listening to this seaside lullaby and the resort staff singing as they work. I have flown, overnight, on the new Samoa Airways’ Brisbane-Apia route and on the only plane it its fleet, a 737-800. The airline launched last year to replace the former national carrier, Polynesian Airlines, which ceased flying in 2005, due to financial issues.
On board, the baby blue vinyl seats remind me of the interior an old FJ Holden and the seat belts are just as tricky to buckle as well. There’s no seat 13 on this plane, and in 14F on the flight over, apparently no button to recline my seat either, despite it not being in an exit aisle. The seat pitch itself is generous, with plenty of leg room, with some saying it’s a deliberate move to accommodate for the typically larger frames of Samoans. I don’t eat on the late overnight flight, instead preferring to lay across the three seats available on this leg, but despite having my eye mask on and my pashmina over my body, am shaken awake by a male steward, asking whether I want the “beef or chicken”.
I arrive in the Samoan capital of Apia just as the sun rises and am transported across the island to Seabreeze Resort in the south. This adults-only resort is a consistent award-winner, and it’s easy to see why. Owned by Australians Chris and Wendy Booth, there’s just 12 rooms all overlooking the ocean and where the staff and service are immaculate. Over lunch, I ask Wendy whether Samoa possesses a masculine or feminine energy, and she doesn’t hesitate with her response.
“It’s got a masculine energy. Everyone looks to the father of the family,” she says.
“The mother plays a very important role in Samoa but she’s quite happy to be in the background. The women are very powerful people in Samoa.
“The men are the fathers of the family but if someone wrongs you, the father will defend your honour.
“It is an interesting society and interesting in the village. Everyone shares the upbringing of the children. It works because everybody has something to give.
“There is no ownership in Samoa. The biggest belief they have is what goes around, comes around.”
There are 2000 people in the local Aufaga village and I have the incredible privilege of meeting some of them. I attend the local school, a make-shift affair for around 200 kids while their old school is being rebuilt, and there’s a sea of pink and green uniformed faces waiting for me. Turns out they have been practising their dance moves and singing all week. The boys do the haka and the girls perform a kind of hip hop hula. I am invited to repay the compliment and shake a leg, and the kids are in hysterics. This “palagi” (white girl) can’t dance.
I visit a village family who have cooked me an entire chicken as a gift that I share with a colleague, and watch as they roast a pig underground in a traditional umu, covered in leaves. They’ve done this just for us, and it’s delicious. I’m touched beyond words. For people who have so little to give, they have shared this feast with me.
My week unfolds like the daily tropical storms. I walk through steamy jungle foliage to visit gushing waterfalls, I swim, kayak and snorkel in the lukewarm ocean, and on my last day, a Sunday, I go to church. Some of the village kids remember me, smile, wave and sing out “hi Chris” like we’re old friends. There’s a pesky lump in my throat which turns to tears when the Samoans start to sing church hymns.
Oe my last night, I check into the Honeymoon Villa, which sits on its own private point overlooking the ocean. There’s a luscious lobster with my name on it and I dine, alone, under the stars. I have lounged on plump day beds and enjoyed a facial replete with local ingredients such a cucumber, honey, lime and banana. Later, when the moon rises, I snatch a sneaky skinny dip in my private plunge pool under the night sky. There’s a stingray, sashaying through the shallows. I search for the spiritual meaning of stingray. It means protection. I look out to the ocean and silently thank Brother Samoa for looking after me on my journey across the South Pacific.
On the Samoa Airways flight home, in seat 26A, my tray table is so damaged, I cannot actually eat my food from it, as it slides right off, and I note one of the drop-down screens which displays the safety message doesn’t deploy. For a short-haul flight, and boasting some great launch specials, it’s a good option from Australia’s east coast, but don’t expect any frills. The inflight entertainment is via wifi and you don’t need to download an App beforehand. There’s a reasonable selection of movies, TV shows and games to keep you entertained on this flight which is about five-hours long. The food and beverage is also retro…there’s the beef or chicken… but despite my initial scepticism about the chicken dish, it turns out to be tasty. Alcoholic beverages are extra, and you must pay in cash, but the full glass of red wine was good value for $5.
Back in Brisbane, my luggage arrives promptly, but when I open my case back home, all of my clothes inside are soaked, despite there being no rain in Apia when I leave, or Brisbane when I arrive. With only one plane in its fleet, Samoa Airways is taking a huge punt should anything go wrong on its routes which include Sydney, Auckland, Pago Pago, Apia and Brisbane. But the airline does have plans to introduce a second plane in March next year, and an agreement with Qantas and Fiji Airways to assist should the plane not work for any reason. I really wanted to like Samoa Airways, and overall, if you are looking for a retro ride that will get you across the South Pacific, for a competitive price, and pleasant and professional staff, consider this airline. With a few tweaks, and more attention to detail, this airline could make the Samoans proud of once again, having a national carrier.
The Global Goddess flew as a guest of Samoa Airways https://samoaairways.com and stayed as a guest of Seabreeze Resort http://www.seabreezesamoa.com
The children at Aufaga Village school desperately need reading and other school material. You can donate these to Seabreeze Resort and one of the staff, who lives in this village, will ensure they are delivered.
I AM sipping a Spanish rose wine, the faintest colour of blood, which is apt, as I am perched among Spain’s largest collection of bull fighting memorabilia, staring down several mounted angry bull heads. But this is not a gory story, but one of love. It’s a crisp, damp November evening in Pamplona, in northern Spain, and I am crouched around a table with Senora Maria del Carmen Tahoces. While I ask clumsy questions, and the beautiful Senora attempts to answer them, my tour guide Francisco Glaria Baines, is tasked with the toughest job of all, translating our conversation which swings from bulls, to love, to loss, and life itself.
I am on a 10-day Novelties of Northern Spain tour with Collette Vacations and while my fellow travellers have since departed Maria’s home museum, which pays homage to bull fighting and her husband Marcelimo who died 10 years ago, I have asked to stay on. To dance with the bull. To find out more about this enigmatic woman who lives among these creatures. While Maria speaks no English, and I, no Spanish, we both understand the language of love and loss.
Before she met Marcelimo, Maria never went to a bull fight, she wasn’t interested. He was a doctor and on their first date they ended up at a ring. She admits she didn’t love bull fighting, or indeed her future husband at first sight, but both passions grew. That was back in 1967 and by 1970 they were married and had moved into Pamplona’s most famous bull running street, where the bulls turn a sharp right at Dead Man’s Corner and head straight for Pamplona’s bull ring. She lives there still.
When he died 10 years ago, Marcelimo left behind two children, six grandchildren, and a deeply heart-broken wife. But his love of bull fighting lives on. On this particular day, and for the first time in her grieving journey, Maria has opened her house to our tour group. Behind this unassuming entry lays Spain’s largest collection of bull-fighting memorabilia. There’s those bull heads mounted on the wall, a replica bull ring crafted by her husband, magical matador capes and even a Salvador Dali painting. It’s a huge step for the Senora to open her house to strangers – these artefacts are usually only reserved for Spain’s bullfighting community – and both her courage and grief are palpable.
I want to tell her how sorry I am for her loss, but I do not possess the Spanish words and it seems trite to communicate this through Francisco. These are words that are too important to be lost in translation. Instead, I tell her she is beautiful, for indeed she is.
“When my husband was alive, this was an open house for the bull world, you didn’t have to ask to come in,” she says.
“After he died, for two years, I could not do anything. We had everything in boxes for a renovation and I needed to put it out again.
“In the beginning, today was very stressful, but once I saw your reaction, I calmed. I was worried you would not like bull fighting.
“Bull fighting is not just what is in the arena. People only centre of the blood part. You need to make the decision to go for the human or the animal.”
While I don’t entirely understand bull fighting, I understand love. I clutch at small talk, and tell her my family are graziers in country Queensland. I know a little of El Toro. But not enough.
I ask Senora Maria whether she still goes to bull fights, but she says she can’t yet return to the one in Pamplona.
“I cannot go in Pamplona yet as it makes me sad,” she says.
“We always went to the same seats, me going alone, I cannot go there.”
I finish the interview, knowing I’ve already prodded deep enough around this woman’s grief. On the way out, I hug Senora Maria and thank her for sharing her story and her home. She tells me, through Francisco, that I am welcome to bring my family to visit and stand on her beautiful balcony during the Running of the Bulls. Sometimes you don’t need to speak the language to connect. It’s raining as I step out into the cold, night air and stroll along the empty, cobbled streets of Pamplona. I think of Senora Maria and her love story and a smile graces my face as I pluck my way back to the warmth of my hotel, walking the route of those running bulls and a love story which endures.
The Global Goddess experienced the Novelties of Northern Spain Tour as a guest of Collette
Vacations https://www.gocollette.com/en and flew to Spain with Singapore Airlines as a guest in their Business and Premium Economy cabins http://www.singaporeair.com/home.form
IT’S a wonderful warm day and I am ambling along La Rambla, Barcelona’s beautiful and bustling pedestrian street, before pulling up a perch for a sultry Sangria and some prime people-watching. I sashay on, in Spanish style, arriving at a teeming Tapas bar, all colour and life on this glorious day with customers politely pointing and seemingly shouting for these tasty treats. Dinner and a show? You had me at rioja. I have arrived in Spain’s sexiest city earlier this morning, having flown in fashion aboard Singapore Airlines’ new A350-900 aircraft from Brisbane, via Singapore, with a brief touch down in Milan, before my final destination…Barcelona. And I immediately fall in love.
This jaunty journey for me begins before I even leave the ground in Brisbane. Last September, Singapore Airlines turned the heat up on the competitive airline food market, launching its Book the Cook service from Brisbane for its Business and Premium Economy Class customers. And I have done just that, booked the cook, a few days prior to flying pre-ordering a main meal from a selection of options with creations inspired by the Airline’s International Culinary Panel of Chefs, including Matt Moran. I had the privilege of taste-testing these delicious dishes on the ground last year, but I had never tried them at 30,000 feet. According to experts, you lose 30 per cent of your ability to taste at altitude, so would the dish I chose stack up?
But before I board, I am ushered into Brisbane’s SilverKris Lounge, a place I last passed the Duchess of Cornwell, Camilla, who was in town earlier this year for the Commonwealth Games with Prince Charles. Camilla, bless her, took one look at me and sighed, just as it occurred to me from where I knew this familiar face flanked by police. I may not be a blue blood, but I am treated like royalty in the lounge, with staff remembering me from previous visits, enthusiastically encouraging me to try “every dish on the menu”. “But I’ve Booked the Cook onboard,” I plead. I defer and munch my way through the lounge’s Asian-inspired delights including delicious dim sum and some Aussie treats with a twist as well such as mac and cheese infused with truffles.
Sated, I take my Business Class seat on Singapore Airlines’ new A350-900ULR aircraft, bound for Singapore. Singapore Airlines is the launch customer of these beautiful birds, taking delivery in late-September. In October this year, Singapore Airlines used this aircraft to launch the world’s longest commercial flight between Singapore and New York, covering 16,7000km with a travel time of 18hours and 45 minutes. By comparison, I have around 8 hours on which to sip creamy Charles Heidsieck champagne, before ordering a full-bodied 2015 Bordeaux to accompany my lunch. I’ve pre-booked the lamb and it’s as plump and juicy as I remember trying on the ground. In fact, I could be at a five-star restaurant. The other great thing about the Singapore Airlines’ afternoon flight from Brisbane is that it’s a meal, movie, a nap and snack before you are touching down at Changi Airport. On board, the Business Class service is so impeccable, the crew fold and tidy your bedding whenever you rise to stretch your legs, meaning you come back to a fully-made flat-bed every time, something I’ve never experienced on any other airline.
In Changi, I am ushered to the First Class Lounge and it is a first-class affair with a swanky bar where the bar man mixes your drinks and delivers them to you, and food is cooked to order, before again, being served to your seat. On this connection to Europe, there’s time for a shower with pristine facilities and thoughtful toiletries you’ll need for the next leg, before boarding, just before midnight, to Barcelona (via Milan). On the second leg I’m in Premium Economy which is a great, affordable alternative with the same service and meal offerings you receive in Business Class. Here, the seats remind me of the first-generation Business Class seats favoured by airlines before flat-bed became the norm. The only quirk in this entire journey was the refreshment served between Milan and Barcelona which fell short of Singapore’s impeccable meals, with my tuna, mayo and lettuce sandwich tasting less like tuna and more like mayo and lettuce. The young Aussie girl in the seat beside me, who raves about Singapore Airlines’ Premium Economy because of her long legs, says the same about her vegetarian roll, which is simply some soggy eggplant plonked onto bread. I note on the sandwich packet that it’s an Italian caterer, and may be something for Singapore Airlines to review, given this airline is excellent in every other way. I arrive in Barcelona early in the morning, and am ready to amble along La Rambla with a Singapore spring in my step following my flights.
My journey home, from Munich to Brisbane, via Singapore, is in Economy Class and is again, effortless. One of the reasons I personally book Singapore Airlines is that even in Economy Class, you are still granted that Singapore smile and service. There’s refreshing hot towels, speedy service, and on both of these legs, Singapore has taken the trouble to ensure every Economy Class passenger has a spare seat between them. This is something I’ve never seen any other airline do, preferring to let guests battle it out for space in the air. It’s little wonder this airline continues to win awards. In February in London, Singapore Airlines was awarded three top awards at Cellars in the Sky including the coveted Gold Medal for Best Overall Cellar. In April, it was crowned Best Airline in the World in the TripAdvisor Travellers’ Choice Awards. And in July, it was named the World’s Best Airline in Skytrax’s World Airline Awards. And it’s easy to see why. Any airline can fluke good service once or twice, but you cannot fake that consistently supreme service offered by Singapore Airlines, regardless of which class you choose to fly. Consider booking your next trip with Singapore Airlines and treat yourself to an upgrade, particularly if flying long-haul. You, too, will disembark with that trademark Singapore smile.
The Global Goddess experienced the Novelties of Northern Spain Tour as a guest of Collette Vacations https://www.gocollette.com/en and flew to Spain with Singapore Airlines as a guest in their Business and Premium Economy cabins http://www.singaporeair.com/home.form
Hola from Spain! I am currently on assignment in Spain courtesy of Collette Tours and Singapore Airlines, and about to take a week of R&R in Prague and Germany, to catch up with family and friends. I’ll be back soon with some more tantalising travel tales. In the meantime, please follow my travels on Instagram @aglobalgoddess