Kuan Yean

Category: Holidays

  • But I am the least of your problems

    The flying kangaroo needs to go back to customer service school.
    The flying kangaroo needs to go back to customer service school.

    My days of flying Qantas are over. The flight down to Melbourne was uneventful, but for the snooty male flight attendant at the door. That said, it may have just been that it was 6 in the morning and I was tired and grumpy.

    Checking in for the return flight I had bags to drop off, and the bag drop queue went for miles. I’ve never seen anything like it… The queue went the length of the counters, then wrapped around and continued behind the counters. It was about 20 minutes before I was able to drop my bag off. I was travelling with Dad, and we had a suitcase between us. It seems, however, that Qantas sees this as unacceptable. To wit:

    Qantas agent: Sir, are you aware that your bag is 3 kilos over the limit?

    Me: Really? 35 kilos? (the max checkable weight is typically 32 kg).

    QA: No, 26 kilos. You’re allowed to have 23 kilos a person.

    Me: But there are two to travel. Aren’t we allowed to combine our allowances?

    QA: Well, you’re allowed 23 kilos a person. You’ll have to…

    I knew what she’s going to say and butted in… I had my own bag within the one we were checking.

    Me: …I’ll repack. I’m not paying excess baggage.

    QA: *grumble grumble* Never mind, sir. Just remember not to travel with more than 23 kilos next time.

    She then slapped my luggage tag on the counter and gave me a look that said “go away” before sliding a charming smile onto her face and putting her hand up.

    “Next.”

  • Luxury weekend, anyone?

    Braeside, embroidered on pillows

    Driving down the New England Highway from Warwick to Stanthorpe, you wouldn’t immediately think that boutique weekend accommodation would be nestled in the Braeside bush. I had the great privilege of staying at Braeside Homestead this last weekend, and I figured I may as well rave about it. Make you all jealous.

    The drive from Brisbane on this particular Saturday was about as perfect as it gets – easy traffic and big blue skies overhead. Once you hit Cunningham’s Gap and cross the range, it’s a treat to be able to wind down the windows and feel the coolness of the Darling Downs in your face (and maybe a bug or two…), but it helps bring home the feeling that you’re out of Brisbane and away from it all, even though two hours’ drive isn’t really that much of a distance.

    Braeside HomesteadWe made a quick pit stop in Warwick to grab some provisions and went another 20 minutes South to Braeside, arriving just after lunch. We were greeted by Lloyd Ernst, who has lovingly restored the place with the help of his family, and landscaper Clint Kelly. Making ourselves at home with a welcome drink, we wandered about the place a bit, admiring the gardens which Clint has recreated to match the ornate late-19th century gardens as displayed in old photographs of the property.

    It was late afternoon, and time for a swim. After gathering towels and gear, we made our way up to the pool, which is located on Braeside Mountain, next to the golf driving range and helipad. The positioning of the pool is such that the view from anywhere in the pool is spectacular. 270 degrees of the view consist of wide open vistas of the surrounding country, all the way from Toowoomba in the North, to the border ranges in the West, and further south into New South Wales. Behind you are the exquisite gardens of Braeside Mountain, completing the 360 degree view.

    Down by the creekDinner followed – lamb on a spit cooked down by the creek. A good ’02 Shiraz, countless stars and the wonderful company of our host family made the whole evening just magical.

    So that’s how I began my weekend; it was pretty spiffy to begin with and it got even better as the weekend progressed. But nothing, of course, is perfect…

    I’m quite familiar with the feeling of homesickness, but I usually only feel it badly for a few weeks after having spent Christmas at home. The weird thing is I am feeling it right now, after only a weekend at Braeside. I have looked through my photos from the weekend six, seven, eight times now. And it’s not likely to be because I haven’t had a holiday in a while.

    It’s just that awesome.

  • Australia Day

    Arthur Phillip. Tsk… wonderpantsIt’s Australia Day tomorrow. To remind everyone about it, the local train station has put up big A4 sheets of paper with “Remember Australia Day” computer-printed on them. “January 26” is also taped up here and there. Altogether it’s supremely tacky.

    But it does raise a point. Sure, people will remember Australia Day before the event, but certainly not after. A good Australian will probably have a story about being barred from the barbecue because they’d become flammable on VB. The amount of brain-pickling that goes on is challenged only by Melbourne Cup day (which is strange, because we’re nowehere near Melbourne).

    OK, so I’m generalising. But I do think most people enjoy Australia Day. I do. The timing is such that it consoles the weary worker who is still mellow from Christmas gorging (or brain dead from New Year champagne). I mean, we don’t get all that many public holidays in Australia. Coming from someone who grew up in Malaysia anyway. We get:

    • New Year’s Day, 1 January
    • Australia Day, 26 January
    • Good Friday, 21 March
    • Easter Saturday, 22 March
    • Easter Monday, 24 March
    • Anzac Day, 25 April
    • Labour Day, 5 May
    • Queen’s Birthday, 9 June
    • Royal Queensland Show, 13 August (a Brisbane thing)
    • Christmas Day, 25 December
    • Boxing Day, 26 December

    … and that’s it. So I guess we’d better dust off the barbecue, get down to the bottle shop and slip, slop, slap. You know, like Arthur Phillip would’ve done. It’s the last real holiday of summer. Happy Australia Day!

  • Moreton

    Snorkels on Beach

    An hour out of Brisbane is a long way. Quite simply because it’s astounding how much you can do in that radius. Last week Braeside, this week Moreton Island. It’d been a while since I’d gone snorkelling, and I can’t imagine why. All it takes is a short drive to Lytton, $45 for the ferry and plenty of inclination to do nothing at all but relax.

    The ferry will dump you right next to the wrecks on Moreton Island and all you need to do is slap on some sunscreen (I can veritably tell you that doing this before you even leave the house will save you much burning and peeling), put on your snorkeling gear and paddle out. All of a sudden you are in another world, surrounded by thousands of living things of all shapes, and colors and sizes. The thing that surprises you more than your curiosity in them is the fact that the fish are extremely curious about you.

    Rinse, repeat and stop at some stage for lunch.

    I know there’s a lot of controversy about how Moreton Bay is being loved to death, but this is truly a difficult experience to resist. In fact, I’m not even sure how snorkeling at the wrecks is killing the bay… would someone care to explain?

    Leaving Moreton