You had me at hello
Behind every extraordinary journey is an ‘ordinary’ moment that sets the tone for everything that follows. These are the stories of the people who transform arrivals into homecomings.
WORDS Sarah Vercoe
We often say that first impressions last, and nowhere is that truer than in travel. The moment of arrival? It sets the tone for everything that follows.
Hospitality is an art. Great service comes from a deep-seated passion and a genuine desire to create experiences that linger. For some, it’s instinctive: a quiet understanding that welcoming someone is about more than just offering a warm greeting. Rather, it’s about truly seeing them, anticipating their needs, understanding what brought them there, and extending a sense of home. Something that allows the rest of the journey to fall effortlessly into place.
What follows are four such moments. Encounters captured in those impactful minutes between arrival and settling in, when strangers become the people you remember long after you’ve returned home.
A SEAT AT THE TABLE
I always get swept up in the excitement of departure. The platform buzzes with energy; the rustle of tickets, the chatter of guests, and that distinctive ‘all aboard’ whistle signalling the start of a journey.
The Ghan is her own person to me, a woman with her own personality and soul. As I watch guests’ faces when they first see her Platinum carriages, she tells me what kind of journey they need. My role as Platinum Host is ensuring guests feel they’re stepping into a home where they belong.
I remember a gentleman who boarded alone in Darwin (Garramilla), checking his ticket twice with uncertainty. When I introduced myself, something prompted me to ask: “Is this your first time travelling alone?” His face changed as he whispered, “Yes.” His wife had died recently and he felt nervous about travelling by himself.
Train travel is intimate, and guests often form lasting bonds with one another. I promised to seat him with people at meals, and we agreed on winks and nods to signal if he got nervous. His shoulders dropped, relief visible on his face.
I seated him with a travelling family for our welcome lunch. By journey’s end, they’d adopted him completely. He came to me with tears in his eyes, grateful for that gentle nudge toward connection. Because that’s what The Ghan does: it connects people.“We always strive to evolve the festival. The team are constantly looking to innovate and produce events that push boundaries and attract world-class talent, but at the same time uniquely Sydney.”
Suzie Cousins
PLATINUM HOST ON THE GHAN
Nick Day
MANAGER AT SAL SALIS NINGALOO REEF SAFARI CAMP
SHIFTING EXPECTATIONS
The dusty car park at Sal Salis is unassuming – just red sand and native scrub stretching toward the deep blue Indian Ocean – yet its raw beauty is striking.
When one couple stepped out of their car, everything screamed ‘mismatch!’ Designer heels met red dirt as a Dolce & Gabbana bag caught the coastal breeze. An exquisitely tailored suit rippled in the same air as they scanned the landscape with barely concealed horror.
I understood their reaction. Sometimes city guests arrive expecting traditional luxury, not realising what makes this rugged, remote corner of Western Australia special. Here, luxury intertwines with nature.
I could see them mentally calculating the drive back to ‘civilisation.’ Instead of explaining why they should stay, I decided to show them. “Let me get your bags and we’ll head straight to your tent for champagne,” I offered. Her shoulders relaxed at the mention of bubbles, and as our buggy wound through the dunes with the ocean stretching endlessly beside us, something shifted.
Within an hour, they were sitting on their private deck with wine and cheese, watching the ocean stretch to the horizon. I noticed her heels had disappeared, replaced by bare feet. By afternoon, the designer clothes were folded away, and they were pulling on snorkelling gear for their first reef adventure. At dinner, still glowing from their underwater encounter, they looked at me with genuine surprise: “This is the best food we’ve ever had on holiday!”
Six visits later, they still return annually to the place that completely transformed their idea of luxury.
FINDING STILLNESS
Tucked in the top left corner of the Kimberley, 500 kilometres from anywhere, Ngauwudu Safari Camp sits like a secret oasis. Here, fan palms wave against a backdrop of ochre earth and a freshwater creek winds its way through dense tropical forest.
When guests walk through the lodge doors, everything opens up to reveal this extraordinary vista and the vastness beyond. The sheer remoteness strikes them first, then the unique landscape. It’s an otherworldly atmosphere, one that has been sacred to the indigenous community here for centuries.
Recently, a group arrived from Mount Hart (Walarra mindi) feeling disheartened. The weather had shifted their plans, and they were apprehensive about what to expect at Ngauwudu. But we have something special here: a deep relationship with the local community that goes far beyond typical cultural tours. I immediately sensed they needed something to reconnect them with their journey, and this was just the place. I arranged access to Cascades, an indigenous watering hole rarely visited by outsiders.
Three hours later, they returned completely transformed. You could see it in their faces as they recounted an afternoon immersed in pristine pools and exploring ancient rock formations. They were animated and energised, telling me the afternoon had completely reframed their entire trip.Six visits later, they still return annually to the place that completely transformed their idea of luxury.
Ben Tompkins
OUTBACK SPIRIT LODGE MANAGER AT NGAUWUDU SAFARI CAMP
Alba Crook
HOST AT CRUISE WHITSUNDAYS
BRAVING THE BLUE
The pontoon at Hardy Reef sits in a cathedral of blue coral gardens visible through the gin-clear water below. The best part of my job here on the reef is watching guests take their first glimpse of the underwater world. Some leap straight in, others need gentle coaxing into what often becomes a life-changing encounter.
When I noticed a woman gripping the pontoon railing, frozen in place, I sensed she needed some gentle encouragement. Below her, a young woman, her daughter, in full snorkelling gear, floated effortlessly, calling out for her to come in. But the woman remained glued to the spot, staring down with longing and terror. She told me she couldn’t swim. The fear was real, but so was her desire to share this experience with her daughter.
We started slowly. Life jacket secured, with a pool noodle in hand for extra confidence, we sat on the platform’s edge with our feet dangling in the warm water. I showed her how to breathe through the snorkel mask above water, then encouraged a small glimpse below the surface.
Those first tentative looks transformed everything. Her breathing steadied as she relaxed into the magic below: coral formations, tropical fish weaving through them. Within twenty minutes, she was floating independently, pointing excitedly at every colourful fish that swam past. When she finally surfaced, she was radiant with accomplishment, having conquered her fear to share this underwater wonder with her daughter.