I love 5 star hotels for the bathrobes.
There is nothing like putting on one of those cosy white monsters to pad around on plush carpet.
As a loyal IHG member and having a weekend of events booked during the silly season I took the chance to use my Dining Rewards voucher to stay at the Intercontinental for the first time since my mother's 50th birthday some years ago. As I recall then it was disappointingly twee and floral - with bedspreads and shiny covers, no less. Now it has kicked up a notch with cosy doonas.
I had intended to spend my first night with a bottle of wine and some in house movies. However, upon checking in, I noticed that a hair salon was labelled on one of the lift buttons. I chanced my luck and was fortunate to be fitted in for a quick blowdry before it closed (thanks, Joelene!), then into my airy room. I thought Platinum IHG membership might afford me a room with a view, but alas my window looked straight onto a generic building on Bridge street. The bath however - and spotlessly clean tub and drain were, too - was glorious. No time to try out my bathrobe, as in eager to anticipation to begin my nights of 5 star luxury I had not eaten all day.
Into Cafe Opera with the dinner buffet. I felt like a child again, but a child with a flute of sparkling wine and a glass of pinot noir (hey, it's almost Christmas). And what a Christmas treat (which I will go into in a separate review) it was, with the highlights being the roast meats and the frozen Greek yoghurt. With my Dining Rewards discount, the alcohol paid for itself.
The bed wasn't as firm as my Utopian ideal, but it must have been good for me, as I slept like a baby who sleeps the night through without crying out for mama's boobs.
Racing all over the city the next day, I returned to for a quick dinner and decided to take advantage of room service. I love room service, because luxury hotels know that the classics is what travellers want. You know how Caesar salad is vaguely out of fashion? It's a California classic that has alas been superseded in recent in local Italian takeaway by rocket and parmesan or blue cheese and pears. But not in hotels. I ordered a Caesar salad and that other hotel stalwart, a club sandwich. Like the dinner buffet, the club sandwich reminds me of staying in hotels with my parents as a child. The service was great. I have a severe intolerance to the proteins in cooked egg yolk. I am used to most waitstaff rolling their eyes or panicking at the anticipated reaction from the chef (hey, this *is* Sydney). But, I requested my salad be stripped of the poached egg and the sandwich sub a fried egg white for the whole egg. The man who took my order was so great that he rang back to check if I could handle mayonnaise and Caesar dressing, which were made with raw yolk (yes, I could and did). Salad was perfect with crispy pancetta and slabs of toasted, crunchy garlic bread and the sandwich (with chips or salad? Chips, natch) was lovely, though the chicken breast was a touch thick and kept falling out of the bread layers. Chips were surprisingly great - crunchy outside, firm, soft potato inside and *hot*.
One 4-hour sleep later, due to my high alcohol consumption the night before, I needed to clear my head and so after an early morning Berocca I shrugged on my bathrobe and staggered to the pool area. In the blissfully cool ladies change room I turned on the sauna to heat up for my eventual entrance. The view from the window was a heart racing view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the water in the pool was refreshingly brisk. And chlorinated. I wish - how I wish - it were salt-water or or a mineral pool, which would soft on the skin and hair and kinder on my bloodshot eyes. Back in the change room, I showered the smell of bleach off and headed to the sauna. Good thing I took two towels as I needed to keep warm. The thermometer in the sauna informed me that a solid 20 minutes of heating had the temperature up to a middling 30 degrees. Sweat? My feet didn't even dry! On closer inspection only one of the heat lamps were working and the hot rocks were cool. I was sorely disappointed as I limped back to my room, out of my bathroom and into something less comfortable before making my way to breakfast. This, at least, was super yum. In the entrance was a juicer complete with platters of vegetables. A freshly squeezed cucumber juice and a long black is just what a girl needs post hangover. The fried egg whites, crispy bacon, spiralled pork sausage, steamed greens, bio yoghurt and fruit did the tick as well. There were a sorry lack of mangos and berries.
All in all, a solid stay. The major negatives were the view (I am *so* over sandstone), the berry and summer fruit scarce breakfast, the chlorinated pool and the steamless sauna, but like Arnie, I will be back. (Funds depending.) read more