shillard

After half a dozen business trips to Fiji (including 3 so far this year), Mrs Shillard drew a line in the sand, and the first real holiday since our '02 honeymoon was born.

The Booking

With only 2 month's notice, QF Premium secured two award J seats for me Sydney-Nadi-Sydney, with my preferred dates & times - in the middle of school holidays! As Mrs Shillard teaches ballet, school holidays are the only viable option for anything other than the travel equivalent of a one-night stand.

Thanks to connections in Fiji, the Sheraton Denaru offered a very attractive rate for an oceanfront SPG room. As we weren't dragging kids along, don't particularly care for diving or fishing, and aren't out to pilfer local artifacts there wasn't much to draw us to the coral coast - and with a fresh mortgage, turtle island was off the agenda.


(Besides, although the Shangri-La has recently been renovated, when I stayed there in March the service was ordinary even by Fiji standards, and the food was crap).


Day 1: Saturday

With young William Hillard (a 6 month old red burmese) in the safe hands of Mrs Shillard's mum, our hire car collected us on-schedule at 08:00. DEspite the high standard of care (and no doubt outright doting) he would experience over the next 4 days, we had one unhappy cat on our hands. Cats know what suitcases mean, and TWO sets of suitcases can meanly only major disruption to routine - this is never good.

Newcastle Hire cars do a roaring trade courtesy of me (well, mostly my employer) and are always punctual, polite, and far better value than a taxi service.

Respect to Mrs Shillard, who packed with remarkable thrift, taking only one case and a small carry-on. With all luggage secured in the boot, we were en-route to NTL (15km North of our home in the inner burbs of Newcastle).

A rare delight for me to experience this journey by daylight, as I'm usually bound for the first (pre-07:00) departures for MEL, SYD or BNE....

Barring the minor irritation of those fools behind the wheel who fail to realise that the signs on the roadside indicate the minimum acceptable speed, the journey to the airfield was uneventful and precisely on time.

NTL is undergoing major renovations to (hopefully) cope with a fivefold increase in annual pax movements - thanks to the boom in services to BNE and MEL by QF, DJ and JQ - along with the relocation of Aeroduck from BEO (now closed as a commercial operation), and small operator services to CBR. A multi-level carpark is going in, along with multiple baggage carousels, new gates, and expanded check-in areas. Check-in was unaffected, and the ever-friendly NTL QF ground staff (no sarcasm there - these guys are great) allocated us 2C & 2D on the CRASH-8 service to SYD, departing 09:10. With bags checked all the way through to Nadi, we passed through security to await our boarding call.

The terminal was quite busy, with a DJ flight departing shortly after ours, and a JQ just opening for check-in.

With no laptop, no mobile phone conversation up to the point of crossing the gate threshold, and no rush it was a very different travel experience - and a thoroughly enjoyable one.

The boarding call came on time, with the flight only half-full. Departing NTL to the West is always fun in a C or D seat, as you get a great view of the RAAF base (home to 2/3 of our F/A-18s, most of our Hawks, and sundry other aircraft). Sadly no operations today - in Australia, we hope the enemy will have the decency to attack during business hours.

Not much for the FA to do on the NTL-SYD run, as you're only airborne for around 20 minutes. A quick juice or water service, and it's time to descend again. A great, smooth flight with very little turbulence, especially considering the appalling ground weather than had persisted for most of the week.

Landing on schedule at SYD, we parked outside T2 and were bussed to the regional section of the terminal. A brisk walk over the T3, through security AGAIN, and down to the transfer desk in T2. Boarding passes issued with that beautiful word "BUSINESS" emblazoned in the right place, we headed downstairs to the transfer bus. Very happy with the computer allocation of 6J & 6K - no sun in your face on the journey over.

The DOM-INT transfer procedure at SYD Is very efficient, with the bus departing every 10 minutes for the secure area of T1. The bus was just about to depart as we arrived in the transfer lounge, so no waiting for us!

Almost like a backlot tour, the bus weaves its way around the QF hangar areas before heading across to T1. Two BA 747s sat waiting on the edge of the QF parking areas (curiously, they were still there on our return 4 days later - same rego numbers).

Disembarking @ T1, we proceeded through the immigration throng where a horde of outbounds crowded the area. School holidays.....

For the first time ever, the customs droid asked me if I was carrying $10k AUD cash or equivelent - and was remarkably unamused when I replied "sadly not". Well, ask a stupid question....

Through to security and I introduced Mrs Shillard to the "captive audience" Nuance Duty Free store at SYD T1. So named, because everyone wishing to progress from security to the departures hall has to pass through this store. A little browsing and no buying (I hunted around for a Barret M468, but couldn't spot one), and we ascended to the QF 1st Class lounge.

Having been previously introduced to this lounge on the domestic leg of an international SYD-BNE flight, there were no surprises for Mrs Shillard (she even remembered how to use the taps in the bathroom). Happily the chicken fillets and meatballs were on offer, and I decided it was my duty as a FT Trip Reporter to sample all the cakes on offer.

Conclusion: All edible.

Just to be sure I had a second go at the caramel slice. Definitely edible.

Recognised one of our fellow pax from the NTL-SYD run, and he denied accusations of stalking me, claiming to be bound for LAX instead of NDI.

A likely story....

Perused the papers and realised to my dismay that I had forgotten to pack the latest issue of "Soldier of Fortune" - with no weapons to smite the politically correct, I felt powerless and lost. What the hell, I was on holiday.

Mrs Shillard required some fresh reading material, so around 15 minutes before boarding was scheduled, we headed down to the newsagent/ bookstore to stock up. She had brought along a fresh copy of "The Da Vinci Code", and was keen to pick my brains during the trip by using me as a fact-checking mechanism.

If you're confused by that - log onto www.frequentflyer.com.au discussion board, and check out my avatar.

Searching in vain for any publication devoted to weapons, global domination, etc I settled for the latest issue of Nexus, hoping to find some gems amongst supposed cures for cancer involving magnets and rectal insertion of paperclips. Time to board.

AN ASIDE: If anyone can tell me just what the hell all of those American kids in red polo shirts and tan cargo pants are up to, please do so. Everytime I fly anywhere, there's a whole company of the little buggers on the loose....

Sadly, our gate was next to the one for the next flight to LAX, with the additional security measures causing a traffic jam that would be the envy of ORD. Salvation came in the form of an Air Pacific employee calling "business class? Business class passengers?"

Thank you - around the queue, and down the bridge to our waiting 747.

If you didn't know, Air Pacific has a monopoly on the routes between Australia and Fiji, operating QF codeshare operations (and being something like 49% owned by QF).

A friendly "Bula!" greeted us as we entered the main door, and were escorted to our seats. Fijians are indeed the friendliest race on the planets, leaving the over-rated Balinese for dead. Sure, Bali has its advantages - like the best police that money can buy - but I'll be happy if I never return to that squalid pit of filth.

Did I mention I don't like Bali?

But I digress.....

Wonderful fruit cocktails and fresh bottles of water were served as soon as we sat down. FJ configure what is normally "First Class" - ie: the pointy end - as Business Class, with the rest of the cabin all economy - over 400 pax squeezed into Y. Urk.

Plenty of space for all bags in the overhead lockers, so we settled back as the beasts boarded 2 by 2 (school holidays, remember....).


Next: 3 hours and 45 minutes on our island in the sky.....

PresRDC

Excellent report so far. Can't wait to read the rest!

QF WP

What??? A TR from shillard...no way, that's not possible . Rubbed my eyes and looked again...oh yeah, this should be good ^

Not to disappoint his avid readers , shillard has set forth with his no-nonsense approach to the world...even better, it's not even half-way and he's already called a spade a shovel

Definitely looking forward to your comments about your sojourn in paradise with mrs shillard - in particular the Sheraton - no, really, I'm serious this time mate

Now I think I understand your avatar on AFF . Thanks!

BTW, I thought it was NAN...but who am I to argue with a man who's got a gun @:-)

RachelG

I can't wait for your next segment. And by the way, I completely agree with calling a spade a shovel.
Also agree that cats know what suitcases mean. When my cat Feisty sees one suitcase, she becomes incredibly clingy. If she sees two, she tries to get in one, and when ousted, hides. When the cat carrier comes out, you better have already caught her, or you are in for at least an hour of cat chasing.

shillard

As we waited for the self-loading cargo to load, Mrs Shillard and I dug out our reading material. I was mid-way through the "legends of Dune" series - pretty good stuff, and normally I wouldn't piss on a Frank Herbet manuscript if it was on fire. His son does a much better job. Mrs Shillard was the first person to sit next to me on an aircraft reading "The DaVinci Code", without looking in amazement at my watch or cufflinks, and obviously suppressing an intense desire to ask all sorts of questions....

I did note with amusement that one of the kids in the J cabin (quite a few families with all flying in J, unlike the transpac flights where award tickets are much harder to get, with mum and dad typically upstairs and the brats back in whY) had a stuffed "Beaker" from the muppets. One of my mates is nicknames "Beaker" for reasons we won't go into - I had to look back at it and chuckle at least a dozen times during the flight....


Departure was (amazingly) on-time, and as soon as the seatbelt sign went out we were asked for our drink order. As it was a lunchtime flight I decided to wait for drink with the meal, and continued to plough through the reading material. It was refreshing to be on a flight doing something OTHER than checking email or working on a presentation.

No laptop, no work phone on this trip.

Movies started up around 30 minutes into the flight, I selected "Sahara" as it looked distinctly less **** than the other choices. A (very) poor man's modern Indiana Jones. Hardly up there with "The Man Who Would Be King".

Lunch menus were issued, as follows:


Entree

Herb crusted grilled chicken with Mango salsa, garden greens and yoghurt lime dressing.

Main
A) Nile Perch with dill sauce, pan fried with roasted mixed vegetalbes & potatoes.

B) Chicken Curry Biryani served with grilled capsicum, buttered beans and biryani rice.

C) Beef with blackbean sauce - capsicum, onion, with jasmine rice & steamed vegetables.

D) Mushroom & Pea curry with vegetable palau & muglai rajma veg mix

Dessert
Chocolate & Rasberry cake with fresh cream

King Island Camembert & blue cheese with grapes & crackers

Bread
Choice of Farmer Oval, Multigrain and mini french Garlic rolls

Hot Drinks
Twinings Tea Selections, green tea, brewed coffee


Let me say that this was by far the finest airborne meal I have had for a LONG time - even better than a "Pot Roast" MRE!

The chicken & mango salsa was divine, the sort of thing you would expect on your plate when Gavan Foreman cooks for you.

(Gavan is the finest Chef in the universe - currently found at "Twist", Honeysuckle Wharf area, Newcastle - formerly of Mortar & Pestle, did a stint as executive Chef at the Newcastle Club - our version of the Athenium Club - and many other gigs in the UK).

I opted for the Chook curry, as, being well acquainted with the steakhouse at the Sheraton, I knew I would be on a sustained red meat diet for the coming days. Very good indeed, far better than any QF effort.

Dessert was pretty good, but my favourite is still the gourmet ice cream served on QF J SYD-PER-SYD services, followed by a Grandfather Port.

Mmmmmmmmm, Port.........

Mrs Shillard devoured the Nile Perch, and gave it a similarly glowing appraisal.

The white wine served (Chardonnay from somewhere in Aus) was typically rough. I will never understand those who demand the finest wines be served at 36,000 feet - this does NOTHING for the experience, and I see no point in serving up St Henri Shiraz that is still in nappies, just because some precious princess will have a hissy fit if she is served Penfold's Kalimna with her QF F Steak Sandwich.

They need one outward-opening door on 747s for such people.

Meal service was un-Fijianly fast and efficient, with frequent top-ups of wine and water (I couldn't be arsed how much I drank, as I wouldn't be driving once there). A decent Earl Grey post-lunch and I was as sound as a pound.

Mrs Shillard was engrossed in "Hitch", which she described as mindless but enjoyable - precisely the sort of movie you should take in on a holiday flight.

The time seemed to pass quite quickly, and before we knew it we were on descent into Nadi....



The sun was just doing its disappearing act as the engines wound back, and we had a great view of burning cane fields as we approached NAN (you got that, Lindsay? NAN!), with the bright (ahem) lights of Nadi visible from Mrs Shillard's window seat.

A landing that was as smooth as an Android's bottom, and we quickly found ourselves at the terminal. The outside airbridge section of NAN always reminds me of Cairns, with the high humidity and timber construction of the gangways. We were amongst the first off the aircraft, as the crew held back the untermenschen in Y (those who know me realise that my tongue is SORT of in my cheek) for us to depart. Easily manouvering past the grey nomads and child-burdened 40 somethings we hit the terminal building. Mrs Shillard was amused by the usual Fijian musical ensemble performing to welcome the stupid white man to the tropics.

With typical efficiency, Fijian immigration formailities were completed in just under an hour (and we were fourth in line), and baggage collected without a hitch.

Our transfer company (Coral Sun, something of a monopoly when you book through any QF-related outfit, but quite good) was waiting with a 1990s vintage 190E Merc to take us to the resort. Our driver was a typically chatty Fijian Indian (the ones who do all the work and really drive the economy) who was amazed that I had been to Fiji so many times.

I didn't notice during the trip, but being unacustomed to driving in the developing world, a concerned Mrs Shillard tried to guage our speed - only to find that the speedo was US on this particular vehicle.

Crossing the bridge onto Denaru "island" I pointed out the (darkened) construction site of the new Sofitel resort - a good candidate for our next visit.

We arrived at the Sheraton Fiji resort well ahead of the evening crowds, and the friendly porters snatched anything resembling a bag, leaving us to check in. All details were fresh from my last visit, and we were allocated (as requested) a SPG oceanfront room in the Oriental wing (far enough from the bar that you won't be kept awake by pommy divorcee slappers on the hunt at 2am).

The porters escorted us to the room, bags in tow, and graciously accepted a small tip in Fijian hard stuff. I had (foolishly) left my stash of Fijian currency at home, and had to buy some fresh stuff through Travelex at SYD. No problem, 1 QF point per dollar, thank you very much.

The room was RIGHT on the oceanfront, very spacious and clean, and only slightly in need of renovation. The air conditioning wasn't even required to sleep through the night, and I'm not good in the heat.

In need of dinner, we walked to the Steakhouse in the old Sheraton Royal section, currently being renovated and turned into a Westin(!).

A spectacular rack of lamb for each of us, with accompanying vegetables and an Aussie shiraz at some ridiculous price. Very satisfying meal (as always), and we made our way back to our room by torchlight.....

End of Day One.

og

Same with our Siamese. He gets clearly distressed when the bags appear - even though we have a trained house sitter to attend to his every need (and look after the house). B@stard of a cat - a 4 legged emotional blackmail machine.

Shillard, keep up the prose - I'm enjoying it.

QF WP

shillard, have you fallen asleep on the island and not come home???

afish

I think they went on one of those infamous 3 hour boat tours..........

then the weather started getting rough...................

the tiny ship was tossed...................

you know how this ends

shillard

Gilligan, das Kapitan, ze millionare, and ze frauline......

No. Just a lazy son of a *****.


Day Two: Sunday

Commenced with much sleep for both parties - Mrs Shillard has the physically demanding job of teaching ballet, teamed with the equally demanding job of running a household for a burmese cat. Things are bound to get interesting when the Shillard dynasty commences in March 06.....

For my part, at the time of this trip I was working an average 11hr day, plus 3-4 hours commuting each day (driving 139km each way) - unless travelling. And when travelling, I don't sleep. Can't sleep on planes, trains, or in automobiles - and I require at least 3 nights in a hotel before I'm rat**** enough to get a decent night's sleep.

After finally dragging ourselves out of bed at around 10am, we headed to the main resort area for breakfast. Perfect for both of us, as I dine on fruit & yoghurt when breaking my fast, whilst Mrs Shillard is a fan of meuseli, or very nicely done eggs when available.

In the interests of middle east peace, neither of us eat the pig. "We don't eat pigs, you don't eat pigs, why can't we not eat pigs together....." but I digress.

We were well-catered given the preferences above (and the pancakes truly kick arse in Denaru), and had a leisurely breakfast amongst pommy divorcee slappers on the prowl, and kiwi + Aussie families (as this was during school holidays).

Breakfast was followed by a leisrurely stroll around the resort to get Mrs Shillard oriented, and a supply run at the small quick-e-mart near the villas. After all that exertion, lunch was sorely required.

Let me be clear: DO NOT EAT LUNCH AT THE POOL-SIDE CAFE.

That is all I will say.

An afternoon lazing on our beachfront verandah reading, and off for dinner to the "Ports o' Call" cruise-ship themed restaurant - the up-market dining establishment. Very nicely done, and not nearly as tacky as you might think from reading the preceeding sentence.

Mrs Shillard chose something that swims in the sea, and reported it was very nice - whilst I dined on a slab of cow that suited me very nicely. The wine list was decent enough, and the service exceptional (particularly by Fiji standards).

Of particular amusement was the very young couple dining nearby, the female party having to excuse herself 4-5 times during dinner. You do the math.

End of Day Two....

shillard

Day Three: Monday


The usual sleep-in, followed by breakfast in the regular fashion. I decided to introduce Mrs Shillard to downtown Nadi (don't laugh, you don't know were I grew up....), and complete the obligatory gift shopping.

A quick word with the receptionist and a taxi was arranged - another 190E to convey us in air-conditioned comfort to the tourist trap that is Nadi city. By daylight the incredible amount of building activity on Denaru Island was apparent - the new Hilton and Sofitel properties were well under construction.

Downtown Nadi didn't disappoint, with Fijian indian spiv & con men hard at work on every shopfront. I'd been to one particular "gift" store before, so we quickly tracked down one of the more enthusiastic salesdroids (who was actually quite a competent salesperson - he understood the process and conducted himself very professionally) and gathered the requisite gifts for the immediate family.

Then walked the strip and called into a few stores run by some business partners, took advantage of the requisite discount and decided to bug out. Mrs Shillard had reached her tolerance level of diesel fumes, and it was time to return to the sanctuary of the Sheraton.

Back to the store where we spent the most cash and they arranged for our driver to collect us out back.

Lunch at the country club ensued - this is undoubtedly the best lunch venue in the resort. Very good choice of VERY good quality lunch dishes, in a cool relaxed environment under the thatched roof, overlooking the golf course. Nice bar atmosphere, so we sat there over a VERY long lunch, just taking in the serenity.

How's the serenity? Couldn't smell any 2-stroke, but couldn't fault it.....


As a Japanese speaker (who has never been to Japan), Mrs Shillard was keen to try the Teppenyaki. We made a booking for that evening, and I was pretty impressed. My last Teppenyaki experience was in Nagoya, and that was awesome (and awesomely expensive, over AU$1,000 for myself, a colleague, and 4 clients!). This didn't disappoint, and the two Fijian chefs did an admirable job.

I can't reinforce that enough - they did a REALLY good job, particularly when they were catering for the likes of me, who doesn't eat seafood. Very satisfying meal, and we noticed we were being stalked by a mother & daughter couple who were at a table opposite us the previous night.

Despite my encouragement, Mrs Shillard was determined NOT to invight them to our room to participate in a lingerie pillow fight. Women - who can understand them?

End Day Three......

RioFF

You made 6 trip to Tahiti before the Mzzs. made you take her along. That is the most amazing thing in this report!

QF WP

Now that's more like it, shillard. Just love your turn of phrase...

shillard

Day Four: Tuesday

Another late rise, another breakfast in the usual fashion, and thence to the pool. Castigated for paying too much ocular attention to teenage girls in hipster triangle bikinis (I was only reading them for the articles, honest), remained diligently attentive to my lovely wife (who pretty much resembles a teenager, so I no complain).

The pool is great for just piss-farting around in (like playing JAWS with your beloved and pretending to try and remove her swimming costume, until she ro-sham-bos you), but absolutely useless for serious lap work. I typically hit the nearby Uni olympic pool 3-5 times a week for 1km or more of swimming - the Fiji Sheraton is not the place to do this.

Back to the ever-relaxing balcony for some more reading, prior to another country club lunch (damn I wish we had discovered this joint on the first day).

Another round of swimming in the PM, and thence dinner at the buffet (breakfast venue), mix of roast meats, vegetables, salads, etc - pretty decent fare to finish off the trip. An early night to prep for the early morning departure - 7am car pickup for the 9am departure to SYD.

Our car was un-Fijianly punctual: the same driver who brought us to the resort when we arrived, who told us at length about his sister in Newcastle. Small bloody world.


Easy J check-in at NDI, followed by some quick duty-free damage at a series of stores owned by some business partners, along with the requesite discount, much to the delight of Mrs Shillard who was determined to take home a minimum of Fijian currency. Thence to the Tabua (pronounced "Tam'bua" - meaning whale's tooth) club to await our boarding call. The lounge at NDI is small but comfortable - coffee drinkers inform me that the coffee is terrible, but the tea and (very) limited range of snacks suit me nicely. Internet access is available for both laptops and from a couple of terminals, along with a range of Australian papers and the somewhat Juvenile "Fijian Times".

Boarding was called only a few minutes late, and we stepped aboard our 747 for another 4.something hours of relaxing J travel.....

QF WP

Excellent...another round of shillard ... did we shame you into it???

Well, you might have been caught peeking but at least you resurrected your brownie points with the shopping...

744

"The white wine served (Chardonnay from somewhere in Aus) was typically rough. I will never understand those who demand the finest wines be served at 36,000 feet - this does NOTHING for the experience, and I see no point in serving up St Henri Shiraz that is still in nappies, just because some precious princess will have a hissy fit if she is served Penfold's Kalimna with her QF F Steak Sandwich."

Oh, whoever could you mean?