Airline News: Japan Airlines to serve Fast Food. Really.

Ok you may have already heard about this.

Japan Airlines is going to serve Kentucky Fried Chicken on flights to the US and selected European destinations, for a period of three months.

Are. You. Serious.  Discuss.

The Boss with the Colonel

Christmas Meal...KFC??

Lounges: Lufthansa Senator Lounge in Frankfurt T1

Logo in front of the lounge

Ok so it been about 1.5 years since it was launched.  And I have been inside a few times.  Each time, I learned something new about what it offered.  Especially when you have a 5 hour layover in Frankfurt.  Not enough time to go into the city, too much time in an airport.  So, it's a lucky thing if you can get access.

The redesigned lounge is 1800 sqm, located in the non-Schenzen side.  It is supposed to be the benchmark for future lounge refurbs.

What it offers, from 5am to 10pm:

• Restrooms
• Showers
• Slumber Room
• Office Support
• Free local calls
• Wifi
• TV
• Buffet counter
• Periodicals

Ok time for impressions.

It's a flight up the stairs.  Or a very slow elevator.  You choose.

Entrance:

Entrance to LH Senator Lounge

• You get greeted by polite (but quite cold) lounge dragons.  
• They don't recognize your status and / or ticket.  I learned this when I went in with my LH card on a Y ticket, my LH card AND a J ticket, my LH card AND an F ticket.
• Star Alliance First Class passengers get the honor of being in the Senator lounge.  Not much exclusivity.  And no, don't even try to ask for access to their F terminal.

On the left:

• Lockers for your luggage 
• The toilets
• The showers / spa.  Yes spa.  But anyone used to Bangkok will find Euro Spas a little underwhelming and overpriced.  

Ahead of you:

Lounge as seen from opposite side

• Bar / lounge area with the now iconic City Lights design element.  If you are in the lounge during the day, you would see a kind of an air well with some plants.  They pull the blinds on this at night.

On the right:

Sitting / Dining Area

• Seating / dining area as well as the buffet counter.  
• food sucks. However the last time I was there they had a German food fair, and had seasonal cuisine (read: appetizer portions), and that was interesting but still mediocre.
• Note:  They have cup noodles, but this needs to be ordered.  When LH say order, it means find a (hopefully friendly) attendant, and ask for it.  Then you wait. And wait.  And wait...at the counter while someone from the kitchen pours water into the cup noodle and gives it to you.   

Inside:

Sitting Area overlooking tarmac

• Lounge chairs that give you a vantage view of the tarmac for plane spotting.  Useless at night, not good for resting.  
• Slumber rooms are nice and dark.  BUT the beds are like concrete. They do give you a nice LH branded blanket.  Which could be a nifty souvenir but you didn't hear this from me!
• Shower rooms are retty basic, quite large with the standard change area.  Toiletries are stored in pump stations.  You need to get an attendant to give you access.  The lady that took care of me was not German but it was fun trying to charade out what we were trying to say to each other.

Standard shower rooms

• The toilets are interesting.  They gave out Nivea face moisturizers for free.  These were kept in a bowl.  Needless to say within 30 minutes, they were gone.  Most into my carry on bwahahaha! I joke.  Wonder what they give out in the ladies toilets?

The Bar / Lounge:

Lounge area

Snacks and cup noodles

They have a series of snacks laid on in a zen like tray that you can take to your table.

• They also have a cocktail and mocktail menu and it was quite extensive.  The bartender comes from everywhere.  On my last visit, the guy was Thai.

I had a good time talking to him seeing I was on the way back to Bangkok.  When he learned that, he asked to be put into my luggage.  I asked him if working in Frankfurt was ok.  His face gave the answer.  I had heard it is tough for Asians in Germany.  A long time ago, someone told me that if I was to be living in Germany and seen with a local, others would assume I was a chef or waiter in a Chinese restaurant.  Really?  Even in Germany???

Anyway, there are no boarding announcements.  You have to be vigilant about your flight.  The free wifi is useful to keep tabs on this.

Frankfurt isn't a nice airport even though it is an European hub.  And sometimes crazy things happen there.  Like the strange protests against the airport's contribution to pollution on my last trip.  Hm.   The lounge is a welcome escape from the rest of the hoolahala that happens there.

Airline News: TransAsia gets their new Airbus baby with SQ seats!

TransAsia Airways, based in Taiwan just taken delivery of their new A330-300, the first of two in the works. Set up as a two class cabin, with 300 seats, the newly minted Airbus will fly between Taipei and Hokkaido and Singapore. Eventually, the carrier will be considering Australia and New Zealand, as well as the Middle East as future destinations.

The Airbus planes will also feature the new Panasonic ex2 system which will add to the carrier's inflight entertainment ambitions.  Previously, TransAsia Airways scored an aviation milestone when it became the first full service Asian airline to offer complimentary inflight entertainment on iPads for business class passengers.  This commitment to inflight product excellence and going ahead of the curve makes it well poised to go deeper into the aggressive Asian market.

Point to note:  Their business class cabin has the same seat as SQ's A333. Coincidence much?

TransAsia's Spanking New A330-300

TransAsia Business Class

TransAsia Economy Class

www.tna.com

Airline News: Lufthansa releases Business Class deals ex-SIN

Lufthansa just released some promo J class prices to Europe.  Prices are good til 7 December and outbound must happen between 25 and 31 December. Really? On Christmas?  Anyway, sample fares:
SIN - FRA     SGD 4609 / USD 3770
SIN - DUS     SGD 4714 / USD 3860
It is a little unfortunate that LH flies to FRA on their A388 and not their B747-8. The former has the 'revised' version of the older blue J class shell seat, while the latter has the newer earth tones J cabin.  Even at a discount, which seat would you rather park your behind on for the 11 hour journey?
To book:  LH SG Booking Site

The new business class seat on the B747-8

The 'updated' business class seat on the A388

Airline News: Somewhere in Middle Earth

Some airlines are sometimes so stuffy, they need to let the air out of their wheels. Not Air New Zealand.  Famous for their quirky take on things, you get the impression that the staff love their boss, their company, and their jobs!  Here is the latest safety video, not so new by now, but worth adding on here.

Airline News: TG to bring back coveted Rimowa Amenity Kits in F

Ok LH started it all (of course) and ended it, disappointing a legion of fans.

The goodies inside!

TG then took over, and eventually stopped that too. Well, I heard a little rumor about a possible reintro last October and just recently, a little reliable birdie informed me that the kit will be truly reintroduced to F passengers from December 2012.  But since this IS TG, let's just give them a month's grace and say 2013!  My bad.

Maybe TG finally got it that we WANT RIMOWA...to match our luggage of course. And I would like this beautiful Lufthansa Blue pictured above to match my LH Salsa please...White will also be appreciated!

Way to go TG!  Hey SQ, take notes!

Newbies: check out www.rimowa.com for what is arguably some of the best luggage anywhere.  Well it IS German after all!

Airline News: Xiamen Airlines Joins Skyteam

Not a big fan of China based airlines but here you go.

Xiamen Airlines is now officially part of Scary Team.

Shop Talk: What The FOLQA!

When I travel there are a few things that are important to me.  One of them is to support young local artists and designers. So wherever I go I make it a point to purchase something that is unique, created by a local talent, and has some kind of societal or economic implication.

While in Budapest, Hungary, while trolling around the old quarters to experience the exquisite watering holes called Ruinpubs, I came across a little design store in one of the bars.

It was unusual.  Because usually by that late hour, shops were closed.  The shop was like in a house, and the bar was set up in the front yard.  Everyone there was young.  The energy was intoxicating.

I spoke to the 20something shop assistant.  She said that there were only 4 design shops in Budapest. (I almost gagged because I don't even think Singapore has one).  These shops were not cheap but they carried the work of some of the most talented young product and style designers.

I was immediately drawn to the men.  Sorry, I meant little wooden men, dolls really, from a collection known as Folqa.  On the box, it reads Souvenirs that Hungarians can be proud of.  That also spoke volumes.

My first entry into Budapest airport was incredible.  There was a sense that the people had a genuine optimism that in spite of the challenges that were working against them, including corruption, they felt that their country was on the brink of something great.  They were proud of their heritage.

So that line did it for me.  I wanted a man of wood.  Seriously.

The dolls came in a series of characters, each representing an aspect of Hungarian culture.  There was the Wrangler, the Outlaw, the Splitter, the Thatcher, the Herdsman and the Potter.  Each was gorgeous in the designs, all hand made by the way, and each came with his own background story.  They weren't cheap by any standards so it had to be just one.  It was hard to choose.

The shop assistant and I started to talk design, and life in general.  The pride of being Hungarian was overflowing.  But beyond that, we spoke about spirituality.  And she said that everything she had in her home meant something to her, much like the way I set up my place, and that the energy that she brought into her life mattered, even from household decorations.

With that, I bought Mr Potter.  No, not Harry!  This is the Potter's story:

"The Potter - The Focused"

"The typical artisan of Mezotur, they say, is the quiet, introverted craftsman, working his wheel, staring blankly into space.  But inside, his mind is racing with thoughts of function and form, bouncing back and forth at a dazzling speed...Only when his art, born of clay, takes shape, do you understand - all the world is a jug, and we are merely motifs."

I identified with him because he is creative even when it is not so obvious.  What is important is what is going around inside his head.  It is a constant state of flux to balance two opposing qualities and to generate something that has meaning.  No one may appreciate the quietness of a creative person, but that does not mean he is not creating.

This little man gives me so much pleasure on my bookshelf.  I see him every time I have my meals in my dining room.

The shop assistant was right,  the energy this man sends out is wonderful.  I am grateful for the wisdom of a 20something proud Hungarian and for the opportunity to interact with her.

www.folqa.com

Airline News: Singapore Airlines Commits to Re-furb Deadline!

SQ Enthusiasts:

All 772s will complete their retrofit by July 2013.  And the first flight will be to Amsterdam.  This will make the J product consistent across the fleet of A380s, 77Ws and 772s.

Finally!

Now if only TG will streamline THEIR products!

Tales from a Trip: What Child Is This?

South Bombay: Evening Pollution

“Ok! Next time!”

I will never forget those words.  

Mumbai, India.  Relocated there.  Like many expats, we started our move by staying at the gated fort known as the Grand Hyatt.  After which, we found our serviced apartment.  Later, we carved out our reality amidst the noise that was Bombay.

From the outside in, it was not a hard life.  We had access to restaurants, shops, spas, and the escape route via the airport.  And we had cars with drivers.  I know how it sounds.  When it was first promised as part of the package, I thought it was pure luxury and a status symbol.  We later learned how common it was among the middle class and up.  Beyond that, it was also necessary.  It was not for nobility, rather, mobility, and was also a respite from the incessant buzz of the city.  Especially during the notorious traffic jams.  The car was also a capsule where you could watch life go past.  IPads with movies were unnecessary in a city where real life drama was happening every second of the day right outside your power window.

It was through this window that I encountered a little girl, who was barely nine years old.  She would peer into my car, asking me for money.  Every day on the way to and from work, and every time the car stalled and moved in inches during the commute, she would be there.

She was of course stationed there.  She was just one of the many street kids whose job from birth was either to be cradled in the arms of a teenager who was begging, or later when older, to walk the streets herself to beg for money. 

Yes, the horrors of Slumdog Millionaire and the even more realistic semi-docu movie Traffic Light, are all real.  You get warned very early on the downside of giving in to your uninformed ethics to help someone in need.  Giving money perpetuated a social issue that you had no control over.  

This was a place where everyone wants to be a Maharaja, and the pimps and minders led street children like the Pied Piper of Hamlin.  They were the ones with the flutes, the kids were the rats.  And the more pathetic the rats appeared, the better it would be for business.  It was Oliver Twist, except that this was not Charles Dickens’ world, and this was current times.

Not every kid was disheveled or purposely deformed though.  Some kids actually had wonderful brown highlights in their hair.  Others even had golden blonde locks.  Later, I learned that this was due to exposure to car and city pollution.  The city had literally stripped them not just of their childhood, but their hair color as well.

The kids would beg in packs.  They were like a family; a family by circumstance.  They played and fought together, and conducted their business together.  When the traffic lights turned red, they would target cars together. 

After a while, like good sales people, they learned to recognize the occupants of each car and the car itself, and they knew which kid among them would have a higher chance of getting something.

For me, it was that cute little girl who had a smile that could light up a room.  She was at once Eponine and Cosette, street savvy while still having a child like exuberance.  I often wondered how long it would take before the city killed the latter quality.

It did not take long for her to recognize me.  Heck, I was Chinese by appearance and driven by a local.  That alone was an anomaly in Mumbai where the Chinese were stereotypically servers in Chinese restaurants.  Yes, even in India.  

Each time she tried to get money, I would in turn try to make her laugh.  And for that moment, she seemed to forget her job.  She returned to being a child.  I asked my driver if it was alright to give something.  He gave me a politically correct response of ‘if you like’ and only after being pressed did he say it would make things worse.  Even he did not.  

Once, when she realized she was not getting anything, she uttered those words in English.  It took me by surprise.  She ended our meeting that day with words of hope and positivity.  Poverty forced her to be creative.  And while she did not have the luxury of compulsory education, she learned a few phrases that would hopefully help get her job done.  It was targeted education, purposeful learning.

While I was impressed somewhat, it severely upset me.

In a city known for its constellation of multi-millionaire entertainment types and home to some of the richest people in the world, the education system was under serving.  In spite of this, the little girl had learned a few foreign words.  She understood the meaning and contextual usage, and applied it in her reality.  Imagine if she had been blessed with even more knowledge, what she could become.

I mooted an idea to start an education fund for the street kids.  Almost immediately the idea was shot down.  Not because it was not good but the execution of the fund would be challenging and questionable.  Apparently in Mumbai, even charities were run by corrupt people who benefited from contributions.  Corruption feeds into the mouths of the unworthy, nurtured by the blood of those without choices.

In Mumbai, even a middle class family had drivers, servants, cleaning ladies, nannies etc, just because, and to put it bluntly, life is cheap there.  Still, these ‘service providers’ had it good.  They were employed, albeit almost like slaves.  And even if they lived in slums, they had a home. They were still better than the people living on the streets, people they too in turn, could ignore with indignation.

The levels of poverty forced me to reassess how I saw my life.  It made me question how much was enough, and what happiness really meant.  The rich in Mumbai, who were driven around in luxury cars with dark tinted windows, did not have to question anything.  Their lives revolved around society parties, foreign travel, hair appointments at the Four Seasons salon, and being picked up and dropped off at exclusive shops.  One society lady I got acquainted with, someone who had been covered in Vogue India five times, told me that everyone had Birkins and it was boring to see all the bags on display during their ‘lunches’.  She was clueless about how crazy that sounded when right outside those ‘lunch’ venues, there were people who were living on street dividers.

Yet, these were people who proudly claimed their Indian heritage and their ownership of being a resident of Mumbai.  But like other parts of the world, those most proud of their residency, are also the most unconcerned about how the rest of the 99% lives.

One day, from my car window, I saw the little girl get into a white Mercedes.  The occupant closed the door quickly and the car drove off.  I feared she would be taken advantage of.  I heard about how little girls were raped and/or forced into prostitution.  I told my driver to follow them, but we lost them in traffic.  An Indian colleague told me this was common.  They even had a term for it.  Sometimes the wealthy Mumbai residents would give the street kids a joy ride.  Pick them up one place, and drop them off at another.  She told me not to worry.  I did not see her for days afterwards.  I was worried.  No.  I was terrified.

Around this time,  I witnessed something outside a shopping mall.  A beautiful little girl with gold highlights went up to a tuk tuk, and asked the passenger for money.  She scored.  She got something.  The joy on her face was amazing.  But then she went to a corner, and deposited the money into the hands of a lady in a sari.  That lady took the cash and walked away quickly, as if trying to disassociate herself from the child.  The child went back to the streets.  And she went around the corner where another bunch of kids were waiting.

I learned that the warnings were true.  The kids were part of a bigger crime ring.  One that exploited the children, one that may have been too overwhelmingly large to overcome in the short term.

After a while, it just got too much.  The kids were everywhere.  It became easier, and even necessary to put blinders on.  A colleague said that if we did not, we would go crazy.  It became almost vital to do what the Mumbai-kars had been doing all their lives: desensitize themselves to the environment.

Part of being desensitized was to be surrounded by things that reminded us of home.  And there weren’t a whole lot as India was controlled by family dynasties that prevented foreign competition.  So when we spotted a Pizza Hut, we were thrilled.  

During one of our lunch visits, we were approached by a little boy as we were leaving the restaurant with boxes of leftover pizzas.  He wanted money.  We gave him the food. 

We didn’t give it a second thought.  We were more concerned about where our drivers were to bring us back to the office.  Something caught my eye.  In front of some planters, this barefooted child was sitting on the dusty ground with the boxes of pizzas opened.  He was not used to the toppings, and took all the bits off, leaving behind what was similar to a roti with gravy I suppose.  With dirty hands, crouched over the box, he attacked the food.  Later some other kids came over.  It was like some crows trying to steal from each other some bits of bread on the floor.

I often asked myself and others, whether being desensitized meant that we were giving up our humanity.  How could we ignore what was in front of us?  Someone said if their own people was not actively searching for solutions, how could foreign imports help.  Especially when foreigners were never going to choose to live in Mumbai for too long, or long enough.

Fallacious as that argument was, the truth was we were there for a short time.  Was this an acceptable justification for withholding help?  A Spaniard, whom we learned later was a millionaire author, and had moved to Mumbai to do charity and social work, told us that short term volunteers would do more harm than good as there was no continuity.  And the social problems in Mumbai needed constant work and attention.

So what were the chances for that little girl who was part of my daily commute?  Eventually I saw her again.  Still with her buddies, still going from car to car asking for money.  We went through the same routine of her asking for cash and not getting anything except for some attempts to make her laugh.  One day I saw a reaction I had not expected.  I saw anger in her eyes.  She user her palm to slap my window.  My driver, shocked, yelled at her as she stomped away.

It sank in.   It may not have been the city that killed her child like exuberance.  It may have been me.

I never saw her again after that.  I could only assume she was sent to another location by her minder.  I think about her from time to time, wondering if she somehow managed to escape the poverty cycle.  She was clearly a bright child, and through her eyes I could see such amazing possibilities, if only she was given the opportunity.  

When I think of my nieces, I cannot help but think that by the grace of God, they were born into families that could provide them with enough opportunities to kick start their lives.  For this little girl, her birthright was to come into poverty.  The realization that she was born ‘without’ will sink in eventually as she grows older.  The city will then take over to reinforce the notion that her life will have little hope for change, and that she is not expected to be more.

For me though, she will forever be the ‘Next Time’ girl with the smile that could light up a room, who had the promise to be exactly that: more.