The Calile:
It’s not
that good.

Look closely and you’ll see hotel staff hiding in the bushes, ready to be of assistance.

We’ve been excited about The Calile since our beloved co-worker Amy recommended it to us earlier this year. That stripped back, classy as fuck design aesthetic sprayed over instagram had us horny to check in, and guzzle margaritas like the precious bitches we are. So when Jungle confirmed their gig at the Tivoli, decisions were made to make it the night of nights with a fancy sojourn at James Street’s (s)wankiest new release.

We got lost on the way in and were, by all accounts, ready to get into our room, hang up our boots and proceed immediately to the bar. A simple plan.

Check in pleasantries were painless and we proceeded to our room through spaces clad in really nice stone we don’t know the name of. Accompanied tastefully by brass fittings and those tropical plants that became cool again recently. The Calile was exactly what we’d expected and hoped for.

We open the door and walk in to discover that the muppets have given us a king bed instead of the twin room specified in the booking. Now, the boys can come across as a couple, due to fabulous fashion choices and haircuts, however we remain happily heterosexual and require personal sleeping boundaries where we are free to starfish and fart in our respective cocoons. Did I mention we were high as fuck?

“Swear to god, that c#%t heard my tummy rumble from across the bar.”

As you can imagine, heading back down to reception to sort this shit out was not part of our seamless plan. We fully expected to be drinking delicious margaritas by now. The linen garbed lady at reception was extremely apologetic and assured us that we could go to the bar immediately and no one would nick our bags while this shit storm was mopped up. In the bat of an eye, we were approached from behind by another helpful Calile staff member who ushered us 3 steps and introduced us to another Calile staff member, who walked us down two stairs and introduced us to a bar staff member, who walked us to the bar and introduced us to a waiter, who fucked off and let us order margaritas from the barman.

The drinks were exactly what we’d hoped for and we consumed them with great haste because this was our big night out in Brissyyyy. In a gap between drinks it was unanimously decided that the boys check in with our respective girlfrans before we were in too deep. The conversation was capped by way of ‘my phone’s about to die’. Moments later, yet another sickeningly helpful Calile staff member offered to take my phone and have it charged. How convenient.

This single moment sparked great discussion regarding the excessive hospitality that had taken place so far during our experience. “Swear to god, that c#%t heard my tummy rumble from across the bar” – I remarked sometime later, and we giggled like little bitches because we were now high and pissed. It was agreed that they could chill out on staff to guest interactions by at least 33% across the board.

Before we knew it, a good 10 margis had evaporated, with two on the house for our check-in troubles. Very thoughtful.

We proceeded to our new digs to find two perfectly groomed beds which we immediately jumped on like naughty children. From there, we cleaned out the mini bar, blazed one on the balcony and decided we were late. Miracles happen and we managed to deliver ourselves in front of the stage 30 seconds before Jungle walked out. Froth levels were at all time highs.

Two lamb yiros and chips smuggled from across the road into the Calile and accidentally eaten inside their flagship Greek restaurant Hellenika was tolerated and handled appropriately. Also there was an unconfirmed midnight room lockout resulting in a trip to the front desk in underpants. Great success.

Against all odds, we awoke feeling pretty amazing at 7am. The black out blinds worked a treat, electronically opening to reveal a 10/10 weather day. So we showered in the shower with no door, packed our shit and got the hell out of the city so we could enjoy the glorious day on offer.

In conclusion The Calile isn’t good – it’s great. Amazing design and finishing with slightly overzealous service all adds up to us making The Calile our go-to Brisbane sleepover. Five Stars.

/ Franks