Here’s what it’s like to fly premium economy on JAL to Tokyo

If you’re considering trading dollars and points for comfort on your next trip to Tokyo, this is what you need to know about Japan Airlines’ award-winning premium economy offering.

Mostly, a long-haul flight is something to be endured rather than enjoyed. Of course, there are some mildly pleasant moments to be chiselled from elbow-to-elbow contact with a complete stranger, but as a general rule, nine-plus hours pressed up against someone else’s personal bubble varies in degrees from awkward to excruciating.

For me, the temporary discomfort of economy class is offset by the excitement of reaching a far-flung country. Not one accustomed to a front-of-plane lifestyle, I’d usually rather save my dollars for the destination than splurge on the journey. But, as the years mount, so do my intolerances, and if I can make use of points or throw some money at the problem to buy a few flight-altering centimetres, then why the heck not?

So, I’m flying from Sydney to Haneda, Tokyo with Japan Airlines (JAL) on a Boeing 777-300ER and I’m booked on a premium economy seat. This 9-hour and 40-minute flight departs Sydney at a very agreeable 9.15am. A day flight means that sleep is not strictly necessary, but I’m going to give it a go anyway. Who’s so well-rested they can’t gain from a few extra minutes of shut-eye? As far as premium economy goes, JAL’s is among the best. In fact, it won Skytrax’s World’s Best Premium Economy Class award for 2024, making the 40 seats highly competitive, while JAL also ranked 7th in the World’s Best Airlines for 2025.

Pre-departure

Japan Airlines Sakura lounge in Tokyo — The sleek Sakura lounge exudes modern Japanese style.

JAL premium economy passengers are permitted to sidle up next to business class travellers at a dedicated check-in line at Sydney International Airport, bypassing the line of tired-looking travellers pre-emptively wearing neck pillows and socks under slides. I heave on my 23kg of luggage (the allowance is 2 x 23kg bags for a total of 46kg), and although my carry-on limit is 10kg, I slide in well under this. It’s a smooth transition through with my ticket marked for access to the Qantas business class lounge. On the return, premium economy passengers are invited to enjoy the elevated comforts of the Sakura lounge in Tokyo before departure.

Airline lounges are curiosities to me. Hushed like a library with hotel buffet-style food languishing in a lukewarm state, I’ve often preferred the electricity of airport food courts where the choice in price-inflated foods and people-watching is more interesting. Still, if peace and a quiet place to tap out some last-minute work is what you need, airport lounges are fantastic. Also, if your flight is delayed, access to a lounge is a bit like winning the lottery.

But at the Sakura lounge in Tokyo, everything is so perfectly Japanese that it feels as though you’re an esteemed guest. Beautifully presented morsels, a curated wine list and a sake selection is everything I love about airline service and enough to go to my head. I would almost book a JAL premium economy seat for entry to the Sakura lounge alone.

The seat

But onto the part that perhaps matters most, as this is where you’ll be spending the majority of those hours. The premium economy class on JAL has seats with a class-leading pitch of 107cm, a width of 48cm and a configuration of 2-4-2. On both my trips I have a window seat, which is great on day flights, but slightly annoying during the night when I need to bother my deeply slumbering neighbour to get to the bathroom.

The footrest, however, is everything for me. Getting some elevation for my swell-prone legs makes a huge difference to flight comfort and little niceties, such as slippers, eye shades, toothbrush and noise-cancelling headphones (from business class), also soothe the tension that comes with confinement. I do notice, however, that the arm rest between seats doesn’t move, which means, if you were lucky enough to not have anyone next to you, you can’t exactly take full advantage and stretch your legs out, as you can in economy. But, it’s a small price to pay for overall elevated comfort.

On the return overnight flight to Sydney, I pull down my eye mask, pop my noise-cancelling headphones on and nestle into the pillow provided. To my great surprise, I wake up with only two hours to go. Stiff glutes, sure, but as someone who rarely dozes for more than 20-minute snippets on a flight, this is a win worth noting.

Food and beverage

the japan airlines premium economy food service — JAL offers a range of Japanese and Western meals.

I am one of those odd people who get profoundly excited about airline food. It’s the bento box-style compartmentalisation that gets me – like opening a series of gifts. I even relish the incompatibility of the stiff bread roll and unyieldingly cold butter. Something to do, perhaps?

On this flight, the premium economy food service is the same as economy with a few additions, such as cup noodles on demand throughout the flight and individual bottles of premium spirits and prosecco. The meal arrives at the brunch-ish hour of 10.45am and I opted for a very decent teriyaki chicken with rice. We’re fed a ‘snack’ again before landing, both meals were enjoyable.

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Entertainment

On my return journey, my neighbour grumbled about the fact the movies hadn’t changed since he flew with JAL three months ago. But as he went directly to sleep on our 9.15pm departure from Haneda, I fail to see how this presented a problem for him. Personally, I found the selection entirely agreeable with a range of watchable options, old and newer, in each genre. The cable from my brought-from-home headphones didn’t fit the socket in the seat, so I resorted to the somewhat tinnie ones supplied to watch a movie on the 12.1-inch screen (the screens in the front row that tuck into the arm rest are a little smaller). There are also TV shows, games, music and audio books to choose from and both premium and economy passengers are given one-hour of free wi-fi – you can buy more if you would like, but if you’re after free and unlimited access, you’ll need to stump up for a business class or first ticket.

Service

In typical Japanese fashion, the service was faultlessly polite and attentive. Big smiles, deep bows and pristine efficiency prevailed throughout the flight.

The verdict

premium economy class seats on JAL — The JAL premium economy class provides extra comfort and convenience.

If you have a few points lingering around, boosting your experience from economy to premium economy offers extra comfort and amenities. Lounge access is a big perk, particularly if you have some time to kill before your flight. And for anyone who just can’t bear the marginal comforts of economy but also can’t manage the steep leap to a business class fare, premium economy is a choice that has real value.

At time of writing, a return premium economy seat from Sydney to Tokyo cost $3490.90

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After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers?

In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.

Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?

Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?

How tourism is changing in Nepal

Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.

Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.

“Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.

Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”

Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.”

CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.

A new generation demanding more

Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”

We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”

Boudha Stupa's prayer wheels — Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you…

bouda stupa prayer flags — Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.

Boudha Stupa vendors — Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.

A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.

Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.

Life unfiltered in the Terai region

tharu woman — Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.

Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.

Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.

Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

“The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.

On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.

community homestay entrance — A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.

The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.

In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.

food at community homestay — Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.

The power of community homestays

community homestay owners in Nepal — Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.

“I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?”

The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed.

Sonara community room — An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.

Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.

CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.

“Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.

In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.

“We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.”

Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”

Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal.