International Mo of Mystery

[simongr]

Has anyone seen my trip report?

I am sure I put it down here somewhere. I remember coming through the doors, putting down my wallet and my keys and I am sure the trip report was right next to it. It was right between the main bulk of SOB and the mini-jaunt to ADL and PER.

You know one of these days I am going lose something important like my luggage or my laptop – heaven forbid that would happen. So it seems in my rush to finish the epilogue to SOB I may have inadvertently misplaced what was quite an interesting event.

Sure the journey was not eventful (well I will need to recheck my notes to confirm that) but this was no a journey for a simple auditor, this was a mission, a mission for an International Mo of Mystery…

Huh? I am sensing perhaps a little confusion for/from some of you. Well to clear things up (so to speak) let’s talk about prostate cancer… I know my trip reports often degenerate into the ramblings frustrated philosopher on life – but bear with me on this it’s important. Prostate cancer is the unspoken killer of middle aged men – and given how vain men are with the inherent belief that nothing will ever harm them we don’t often do much about it. In effort to raise funds and awareness of this a charity event was started a couple of years ago called Movember. Basically given that the 70’s and 80’s were 20 years ago and moustaches became the province gentlemen of a certain persuasion, fat cricketers people hiding their own blandness behind a veneer of uniqueness the mo has gone out of fashion a little. So the basis of the event is that for the month formerly known as November people would be sponsored to grow a Mo. In 2007 they raised about A$10million during the event.

In 2005 the event was new and simongr did not partake due to him going through the process of applying for jobs (job interview + ridiculous Mo <> successful candidate) and in 2006 I was meeting all the senior management of our Asia business so again the Mo did not happen. So we get to 2007, no job interviews, comfortable with management in Asia and tacit approval by mrssimongr for the growing of the Mo.

So no longer was I just a business traveller – I was a Mo on a mission, an international Mo of mystery!

The progression of the Mo itself can be found here but the journey of the Mo begins and it is a surprisingly simple DAS13 – syd-hkg-nrt-syd. A little disappointing for all of you I know but at least we wont get a rambling comparison of a country’s culture to a frog in a blender

I will apologise in advance as some of the details are a little thin given I am writing this report 4 months after the event with only my scribbled notes written often after the third glass of Moet in the lounge and the Dom onboard – for me personally I do question whether some of the events really took place or not

 

[simongr]

No matter the Mo – wherever you go being in the pointy end is best

Journey – SYD-HKG
Flight no. – QF127
Class – First
Seat – 3K

With Amex points swilling around like free flowing Chardy at a backyard barbeque (BBQ if you prefer) the obligatory upgrade request to first is put in. The night before the flight the points have not been deducted to my dismay (dear god I might have to fly QF in J – the trials for poor Mo). The dismay does turn to joy as when I check my points balance on the morning of the flight I am 25K short

I am up at 5AM on the day of the flight to do some final painting and decorating in the Kitchen that has just been installed (final work done at 8PM the night before the flight). I barely have time to scratch myself (perhaps a good thing you might think) but I do make time to tidy the Mo.

I have forecast a slightly slow journey to the airport as this is a Midday flight which means leaving the house towards the mid-point of the latter half of the rush hour. Surprisingly though traffic is as smooth as a recently waxed Mo and the journey is a lot quicker than expected (more time in the F lounge ).

At check in the staff are somewhat bemused by my paper ticket (I do not recall why this was a paper ticket) but are reasonably efficient and hand over the outbound and inbound epass for express immigration/security/quarantine. I might be able to hold onto this as I know I will have the duty free lane at inbound immigration.

I use the somewhat unnecessary express immigration but do find the express security very useful – except for the faffer who bookends my bags with his gear and struggles collecting his stuff after the xray. Thankfully I am not tested for explosives and I am quickly into the lounge. On entry to the F lounge I notice that the living wall is looking a little dry – it leaves me with a question – what is worse than having no flora on entry to a F lounge – having half dead flora on entry…

I take a table and order my usual – smokehouse bacon and poached eggs. This is matched to a delightful English Breakfast Tea – don’t worry I do hit the bubbles once we get past 10AM – and settle into getting some emails cleared some work done (I am flying on a Tuesday so I can’t waste the whole day not working.

Once I have got the core bits of work done a glass of bubbles is required along with his subsequent colleague and slightly diminutive third member of the team… sadly shortly after ordering the third small glass boarding is called. Thankfully this is at gate 31 which is fairly close to the lounge.

A number of whY (non-status) seem to be struggling with the concept of premium and non-premium boarding lanes and annoyingly are not moved out of the queue by the gate agents – yes that is snobbery and I am a bad person – live with it or stop reading

On board I immediately have a great first impression of the cabin crew – friendly (but not chummy). I am handed my PJs and complimented on my choice of label for my shirt (vanity thy name is simongr). This is of course after the greatest discovery of in flight catering I have experienced…

Dom Perignon 1998

Like an angel crying tears of champagne cream on your tongue – this most defintitely comes with the Chocka Bloke rating of 100% Yum! After that the rest of the journey was a breeze. The service was consistently excellent, my glass was topped up without needing to push the “ignore” button and removed along with the finished cheese selection when I had slid into blissful sleep (mind you I have yet to have the QF F seat made into a bed for me as I normally fall asleep after dinner mid movie so the crew don’t get the opportunity to actually make the bed up).

As ever the QF movie selection is poor to my taste but at least it is working. My softer side shines through as my eyes are filled with tears throughout the entirety of Underdog – dog 2 and dog 3 (or dog 4 and dog 5 depending on which numbering system we are applying) are the same breed as the leading “lady” in the movie – and I am missing them already.

After a reasonable sleep I opt for the steak sandwich without chilli relish (bloody hell Perry can’t we even get a normal steak sandwich without an Asian influence????) and I am persuaded to try another nice glass of red which on reflection may have been a glass too many

Suitably fuelled I breeze through immigration with my HKIAFV card, onto the train and I am on my way to what is definitely shaping up to be my favourite hotel – The Conrad Hong Kong.

 

[simongr]

Where eagles fear no Mo

The Conrad Hong Kong – room 6019

I am whisked up to the Exec lounge for check in and immediately handed my usual whilst my bags are taken to my room. Even though I arrive as the official coughtail hour has finished I still spend about 45 minutes in the lounge checking out the lights of Kowloon and Hong Kong Island from the lounge – with top ups aplenty – and you wonder why I like this place

As per my request I am given a non-Harbour view with a fantastic peaceful view of the mountain behind – but more on that later.

It really is a sign of the quality of this hotel that even though I have only been here 2 -3 times previously they actually notice the Mo and ask if this is a new style option. I know this is not a big thing but that level of recognition means either the staff were attentive or I was a nightmare when I stayed here before…

I get to my room at about 8PM and order some dinner around 9PM – midnight my time. I take a minute to sit at the desk to wait for dinner and wake at 4AM – long after they have stopped trying to deliver my food -

The next few days are a mind numbing series of tedium filled hours but the highlight of the week is meeting up with someone who is able to < REDACTED TO PREVENT DAMAGE TO FUTURE < FURTHER REDCATED TO ENSURE THE REDACTION DOES NOT ALSO JEOPARDISE…MORE INFO MIGHT FOLLOW IN A LATER REPORT > >

I get to Saturday morning and a three hour walk around Hong Kong Island and it is a pretty tired simongr that gets back to the Hotel after a lunch at Bulldogs sat watching the cricket

A quiet Saturday night is followed by an even lazier Sunday which is finally topped off by a decent swim! Drinks from the previous Friday is followed by a dinner with < REDACTED > at Wildfire where I enjoy a most excellent steak.

The final three days are marginally less tedious than last week but I do manage to catch up with a former colleague for a beer – no redaction necessary there. Thursday morning is spent finalising documents in the Hotel and packing to head home and I finally check out at about 11AM. I grab a cab to the airport express station and enjoy that delightful train ride to the Airport.

Check in is seamless and they cope pretty well with the concept of me putting my flights to QF even though I will be getting lounge access based on my EXP status. I consider changing my paper ticket (I have switched from a JL flight to a QF flight for my final flight home) here but the JL/QF desks are a very long way from the CX desks

I am quickly through immigration as always using my HKIAFV card – if the message wasn’t clear before – I love this card I am subjected to secondary screening as a result of my small cologne bottle – one that was bought specifically for travel due to its small size…

I turn left after security straight into the Wing F lounge. After a little more work there is time for a light lunch and a glass of NV Moet – life is sweet

 

[simongr]

The shortest distance between two points is not via another airport

Journey – HKG-NRT
Flight no. – CX500
Class – Business (regional config)
Seat – 14G

After a final quick call home I start to make my way to the gate safe in the knowledge that boarding will not commence for quite a while yet. However as I approach the gate I see the slow moving massive queue so I guess that boarding commenced a little early than planned. There is a large number of whY pax being weeded out of the premium lane – QF take note! Finally as we board (no rejected BP at the gate – well there is no F class to be upgraded to ) I notice the 2-3-2 config and wonder whether I will have anyone next to me in the centre seat. As I look around the cabin during boarding I notice that I am the only non-asian in J. It serves to remind me that travelling through Asia is still a novelty or is in reality actually exotic. My life is not normal.

Thankfully the middle seat remains free I am asleep before take off and as I wake I wonder if I have missed the pre-dinner drinks service but realise that they are serving drinks from the rear on the left hand side of the aircraft (more on that in a future TR).

As ever I get the recliner even during dinner service but thankfully in this config he doesn’t impact me too much – no opportunity to play the bongos on his head. The appetiser (entrée to the non-septics) is poor – cold fish and cold noodles (my assessment of the quality might just be a reflection of my lack of experience of Japanese food an knowing what to do with them…) I switch therefore top a nice glass of white (despite it being French I manage to force it down) and tuck into the infamous CX garlic bread and a nice chicken curry.

Main is followed by the ever present excellent cheeses (remember this is a regional flight – no longer than a SYD-PER flight) and some lovely Hagaan Daaz ice cream. Service slips slightly as I am inadvertently switched to red wine – but as it is an excellent drop I don’t mind so much. Coupled with the fact that the refills keep coming almost until disembarkation I am not of a mood to complain.

At all stages during service I am referred to by name and luckily for them I am given a survey to fill in – interestingly the reward for this is the opportunity to win some free J tix on their network – worth a shot I guess.

Disembarkation is a schmozzle – after a very long taxi everyone is desperate to get off the aircraft so are out their seats before the seat belt light is out. However this is proceeded by a slow march through the terminal – I feel like I am following the funeral procession of Winston Churchill – just with more Asians, less cavalry and not in black and white – hmm I guess it was nothing like Churchill’s funeral process in fact.

Immigration is fairly smooth despite me filling in the card incorrectly (again missing the reverse of the card) and I am finally on Japanese soil and I now just have to find the bus to the Hilton Tokyo…

 

[simongr]

Never mind lost in translation – what about lost in Shinjuku???

The Hilton Tokyo

After some debate during the day online with Tscharke I have decided to take the limousine bus service to the hotel (damn you Tscharke) but as I arrive at the ticket stand I find that I have just missed the bus and the next one does not leave for 35 mins and the Green Car on the next Narita Express is fully booked so I have a long wait facing me.

I buy my ticket (mutter grumble) on the next bus service and go outside to wait. Now I should probably point out at this point that the weather in HKG was a balmy 23+ degrees Centigrade and in SYD it has been a toasty 28 degrees. It is however Tokyo and it is November… if you learn nothing from my trip reports learn this – a polo shirt is not appropriate clothing for Tokyo in late November. Appropriate clothes include gloves, multiple layers, thick coats with little fur rims, a scarf and perhaps at a push a hat… brrrr

This perhaps therefore sets the context for the next set of events. First let’s understand the situation – this is my second time in Japan outside of the airport (third if you count the overnight at the Narita Hilton but for literary elegance let’s not count that shall we?), I speak no Japanese and do not have the Japanese name or address of the Hilton written down. Perhaps it was the red wine mixed the loss of feeling in my extremities but I have an “inspiration” – I know I have 35 mis until my bus but I see another bus is going to Shinjuku and I recall that the Hilton is in Shinjuku – why don’t I just get on that bus and find my way to the hotel when I get to Shinjuku….

After some toing and froing with the bus shepherds I get on the bus for what is a painfully unpleasant journey. Slow is an understatement – it’s 9:30 at night and the traffic is solid going into and through the city. Finally (after much cursing Tscharke’s name) I am dumped outside Shinjuku station – at this point I begin to realise some of the folly of this situation. For a start I have no idea where the taxi stand might be, I am not able to ask for directions and have nothing to tell the cabbie the name of the hotel. Having eventually found the taxi rank the gods smile on me and the driver is just about able to understand HILTON. He proceeds to drive me the 200m (or so it seemed) to the hotel and it is a very relieved simongr that staggers into the Hilton Tokyo.

Having napped on the aircraft I am not tired in the hotel so I watch a bit more laptop TV until about 1AM and finally crash out. The next morning I realise a fatal flaw in my Tokyo guidebook that I bought in HKG – it is simply rubbish! I had left behind my excellent Lonely Planet Top20 book at home by mistake.

I make the most of it and walk around Shinjuku for about 4 hours. As it is a pulic holiday the streets are quiet. The weather is fine – beautiful blue sky tinged with biting winter winds.

[aside]

Just for the record I have realised that like Superman I seem to be solar powered. Just a few seconds in bright sunlight and I am warm for the next 10 mins. This theory was well and truly tested in my subsequent visit to NY. This is not just the normal warming up in the sun but I seriously seem to recharge some internal cell in the sun. I am still working on flight and x-ray vision (not necessarily in that order ) and hope to have them sorted some time next year.

[/aside]
The shopping here is amazing. I visit the Okaydo and Deio centres. They have a whole floor for just women’s shoes in the Deio centre – mrssimongr must never come here! Mind you an hour in BIC Camera is like dieing and going to Geek heaven!

I head back to the hotel for lunch and bemuse the staff when I tell them that I plan to walk to the station (I only have rollaboard and suit bag remember). I find Shinjuku station is a scary as people report – even with a map in English pointing at both where I am and where I need to be it is still daunting. Eventually after having heeded Tscharke’s warning of “Make sure you go through exactly the right gate otherwise you are screwed” I just go through the first gate that might be correct and head to an Information desk. Thankfully I am pointed in the right direction and haven’t screwed up too much. As my walk was a little more brisk than predicted I am stood on the platform for about 40 minutes (remember the shirt only issue earlier – brrrr).

The NEX arrives and disgorges its pax only to close the doors again – my usual paranoia kicks in. Should I have forced my way on board? Am I standing by the right carriage? Is Mothra attacking the city? Will those little white helmets that they wear in the movies actually protect them? Thankfully the Mothra attack is averted and the doors reopen after 20 minutes of cleaning. I board still somewhat nervous that I may not have the right carriage and seat so I gingerly sit down.

[aside] Japan is hard work

I know I am not an experienced Asia traveller but now I have been to Japan, Singapore, Hong Kong, Beijing and Shanghai (all recollection of Thailand is stricken from the record) so I have some experience. Beijing and Shanghai are not easy but they are alien. Their borders have been closed and we expect them to be difficult. Singapore and Hong Kong are frankly more westernised than Chinatown in Sydney or some of Sydney’s suburbs. So we get to Japan – a country that has had strong business ties with the west since Eisenhower nuked part of the country. You can recognise things but at the same time everything is alien and you do feel alone in a city full of millions of people. I almost felt invisible despite being a slightly hulking 185cm crew cut wearing Mo of mystery.

I want to go back but I wonder how I would fare without a full time guide and translator.

I am under orders to go back one day with mrssimongr as there are more Michelin starred restaurants in Tokyo than in Paris!

[/aside]

As ever the train ride is pleasant but I only manage one beer as the little chap seems to not be able to see me on his second run through (maybe it’s that whole invisibility thing again – mind you that’s one of the Martian Manhunter’s powers – not the solar powered Superman…). Finally we make it to NRT and the final segment begins.

 

[Keith009]

You continually surpass yourself in trip reporting, simongr.

I agree RE Shinjuku station. The place is a labyrinth. The first time I was in Tokyo it took me close to 20 minutes to work out where I'm meant to exit the station. I'd been warned that there are many different gates and I need to find the correct one to avoid having to rely on a cab to get to where I actually want to be.

Hooray for Odakyu though.

 

[simongr]

I really miss the Soup Dragons

Journey – NRT-SYD
Flight no. – QF136
Class – Grumpy or Sullen
Seat – 2E

So as I said I am relying heavily on my notes rather than my recall for this trip as it was so long ago so let me refer to the notes taken at or around the time:
.
.
.
Hmm so far all I have is:

NRT-SYD QF136 2E

Not much material there to work with. It would seem some calming breaths might be required to try and stir the old grey matter into recall (or fabricating) the story of this part of the trip. Ah ye, there it is – The Soup Incident

Let us go back and start again. After a pretty smooth train ride with no bizarre bus/passport verification process as when I stayed overnight at the NRT Hilton I am (after negotiating a seemingly never ending sequence of escalators) at the QF desk – sadly staffed purely with JL staff who seem to find the QF systems a challenge. As you will recall (I will be testing you on these later) I had changed from the JL flight to the QF flight (due to the poor quality JL product flying to Oz rather than the AA limited points earning) but needed my paper ticket updated. Blimey what a palaver! There was total confusion and bemusement for about 10 minutes whilst they worked out what they had to do. Eventually they found a post it to put on the ticket and directed me to the check in desk…

No OWE check in just J/OWS (don’t worry I showered later) and some observation of someone angling for an emergency exit due to his knee problems meaning he couldn’t sit in a normal whY seat – more on that later.

I spot what seems like the country’s supply of green and gold material and surmise that some Australian sporting team will be joining us on the flight – how jolly.

I am quickly through outbound security and not so quickly through outbound immigration and off to the JL F lounge. At this time (having not found the curry that I discovered on a subsequent trip here) I was not at one with the JL lounge – mostly the food is a little too challenging for a non-hard core Japanese food eater and a little disappointing that more sushi/sashimi is not on offer.

I force down some champagne and a beer and start to get a little antsy – cabin fever lite sort of. The lounge is deathly quiet and I start getting twitchy. Having never been there I elect to switch to the QF lounge – I am sure it will be a little more Australian I suppose and as this is the day before the election perhaps I might get some info on that.

A quick trip on the train to the satellite terminal and I find the QF lounge hidden in the bowels of the airport. There is unsurprisingly no F lounge and it would seem that half the population of Sydney has lounge access at the moment as the place is heaving. Our green and gold friends are there in force (for the record it was the Australian Women’s Softball team). I do however manage to grab a seat so all is not lost – that is until I find the wine selection – Rosemount Estate Chardonnay and Rosemount Estate Shiraz. That’s it! Now I am not looking for bottles of Petrus, Chateau Lafite or even Grange but c’mon QF make an effort. Australia is an amazing producer of fantastic drinking wines of every price point and they serve this swill???? At least the potato chips were adequate

I consider a glass of Sake which tastes like cheap gin and give it up as a bad job and decide to head to board. Boarding is the usual QF farce – oh sorry I mean egalitarian Australian display of a fair go.

So here I am about to board with a growing sense of trepidation – will I get a good J crew or a bad one. The face that greets me does not allay my fears. Ah well at least the sleep will be adequate even if the staff are less than friendly – and then we have The Soup Incident – but more on that later. Let us first go back to our poor friend with the dodgy knees…

As we get the calls that we are just waiting for two pax who sprints down the jetbridge on boartd – I think you are one step ahead of me here Now I have lived with knee pain in both my knees since 1992 (two separate injuries – American Football and slipping on some stairs [I was sober!]). Pretty much pain every day (apart from those glorious two months last year when I managed to get hold of some delightful meds that really helped) – sitting, standing, walking, swimming, running, cycling – anything sets it off. I can appreciate pain but it is somewhat suspicious that our exit row requiring friend is able to run and stride so manfully despite the weakness of his knees. I of course would not suggest anything untoward and I do applaud him running through the pain to ensure he did not delay us any more than he had already. Yes – I am a bitter, bitter person…

So we have boarded and in usual QF style pre dinner drinks are delivered very slowly and with the courtesy of a French waiter in a English restaurant – and that is not meant in a positive manner. So finally we reach The Soup Incident!

Now before you read this you must understand the context. The meal on this flight is my only chance at a decent evening meal. I have pretty high standards of the food eat – if it is not something that I would be proud serving to friends then it is not good enough. Not only that I have an expectation that people serving from a selection of three items might have some knowledge of what they are serving…

I take the menu and look down the list looking forward to my broccoli soup and chicken with Tsatziki dressing. My tray of food dropped onto the tray in front of me and for the life of me I am sure something is missing – oh yes the soup! No apology or comment is offered on serving so I assume they are going to serve this separately (for a minute I forgot I was on QF and thought I was on CX). When no soup is forthcoming I ask the Soup Dragon if there is any soup. A somewhat confused Dragon reads the menu in front of me and scratches its scaly head. It goes back to check in the galley and reports that “they must have forgotten to load it at NRT”. That was the extent of the comment – no apology, suggestion to complain to QF – just effectively “I don’t care whether you get your soup or not you arrogant prig”. Obviously we can’t have any soup delivered (you can’t use mobiles on QF flights remember) so I decide to plough into my Chicken – and again I am struck that something is missing…

Dear god, did this woman not bother to read the serving instructions???? The Chicken is missing the Tsatziki dressing! So another call back to the scaly one results in my chicken being dressed with Tsatziki. Now this may seem picky and as a delightfully classy person remarked on AFF something horrible was possibly done to my chicken back in the galley – but if you’re too lazy to bother trying to do a decent job of serving people – don’t work in a service industry.

And breeeeeathe…..

Let’s just say I was really looking forward to that soup

The rest of the flight is uneventful except for the ongoing unpleasantness of the scaly one – for example saying thanks to everyone in J by name as they disembarked except for me.

Well that’s it for “NRT-SYD QF136 2E” – not a bad effort from 14 letters and numbers

Still to come - a reflection on what was lost being found again...

 

[simongr]

Epilogue – No matter how lost you are, you can always be found if you believe

I guess that completes this simple tale of almost a simple there and back again. Amazing what you can find if you just take a moment to look. I have talked a lot about journeys of transition of how my life (well that part of my life lives in metal tubes) has changed. This really does enforce that – I am now a fairly passionate traveller and on some levels a passionate writer (part of me wonders whether I take the journeys to facilitate the writing of trip reports rather than seeing the trip report as a vehicle for philosophising about my travel) but here I have a trip that includes my first real experience of getting out and about in Japan and I didn’t even bother to write about – I am a bad bad person.

It is however interesting that this report with its associated recognition that my travelling has become something of a process rather than an experience that I begin to contemplate another phase in my life – as my career changes I might in fact be faced with the prospect of a lot less travelling. Quite a dramatic change from my recent experience – but that itself was a dramatic change from the travel pattern that characterised the first (insert number of years that would reveal age here) years of my life.

Let’s take a moment to reflect here – for my first 6 years in Oz my travel included a few inter-state visits and a couple of trips to NZ but most recently just a heap of travel around rural NSW. From that “humble” beginning my travel exploded in July 2006 when after a change of job (with some associated expectance of travel) I got the call for my first trip – be in Pittsburgh by Friday morning – it was at this point Tuesday, that led in turn to my first visit to NY, two weeks in the UK “on the way home” and a day trip to Singapore (it wasn’t just to break the journey so I would get more SCs to get QF SG honestly *cough*). That was just the first hole in the cough – after that the dam broke! Two weeks in Auckland, a week in Singapore, 2 days in Tokyo, Around the world in 10 days leaving 6 hours after I landed from a week in Thailand (let us never mention Pattaya again), popping into Cyprus to surprise my mother, a few days in Hong Kong, back to NY, Orlando, the UK, France (forced to go as part of the deal allowing me to go to the UK), NY (again), China (big scary China), Hong Kong (with associated falling down disease), NY (seeing a theme) and finally the Trip Report that has yet to be written (it is a work in progress) which brings us to today.

There is one last trip planned – The Big Personal trip in July and at the moment we are facing an uncertain travelling future. It may not be long before the Chocka Bloke follows the great Fred Harris and checks out of the trip reporting business for the last time.

And on that melancholy note – for a short while at least and not permanently for now this Chocka Bloke checking out.

 

[Tooner]

You continually surpass yourself in trip reporting, simongr.

I agree RE Shinjuku station. The place is a labyrinth. The first time I was in Tokyo it took me close to 20 minutes to work out where I'm meant to exit the station. I'd been warned that there are many different gates and I need to find the correct one to avoid having to rely on a cab to get to where I actually want to be.

Hooray for Odakyu though.

Shinjuku is mind-blowing for the multitude of gates (seemingly designed to prevent Gaijin from getting from JR to Kinkki Nippon Railway in my case) and made me very happy I was staying more in Tokyo.

Great stuff Simon, and yes, it is amazing how transparent a 180cm Gaijin can be to some in Tokyo.