The main street is relaxingly daggy. The service is friendly, the shops are cluttered and the overall feeling is that you can go barefoot and no one cares.

This laid back vibe extends to Ocean Beach, an NRMA Holiday Park set right on the Umina beachfront. From the moment you check in into your Seabreeze Townhouse, the overall feeling is aaaahhhhh.

Seabreeze townhouse: at least double the size of my Sydney apartment

The interiors are beautifully functional and tasteful, with a solid timber table and chairs in the kitchen, modern cane couches in the lounge area and, impressively (for a linen snob like me), fresh, colourful bedding in all the rooms. It feels beachy but kitsch-free; something of an art form.

Tasteful linen!

The townhouses are perched directly opposite the beach access so it takes about two minutes to climb out of bed and splash into the freezing cold surf. The waves are gentle and the beach is dog-friendly, a total bonus for a puppy stalker such as myself.

The major benefit of Ocean Beach, beyond the pristine natural setting and the whooping bellbirds, is the fact that this place is Child-Friendly with a capital ovulation. There are several playgrounds, jumping pillows, a rainforest-themed pool and spa complex, a cafe and a Kids Club with lots of things that actually sound pretty fun (chocolate crackle making, pancakes and cartoons, a treasure hunt and tractor rides).

My spirit animal (according to a fairly unreliable website)

I don’t have kids but I know plenty of stressed out people who do; people who could use a break from their sticky, ungrateful offspring. Ocean Beach is the perfect solution to a multi-generational holiday. The littlies can play with other germ-ridden brats, the adults can relax in the knowledge that their children are safe and the teenagers can lurk moodily in the fresh air, texting their friends.

Have you been to Umina? What did you think?

You appear to lack actual queens so I am putting my hand up.

Why me? I’ll tell you.

I visited recently and it turns out I’m perfectly suited to the job. I love eating, drinking and lazing around a pool. I also like resorts, rainforests, palm-fringed beaches and cheap fresh produce.

When I visited in late October, the weather was a balmy 28 degrees, the beach was stinger-free and the water was warm (but not soupy warm).

Port Douglas is a sleepy little village replete with friendly watering holes. It’s overpriced to buggery so I would fix that. $30 for a Chicken Caesar Salad? Also, your sushi sucks and where is the fresh gelato? I am not interested in cruddy mass produced stuff. You have mangoes falling at your feet – I think they’re trying to tell you something.

On the upside, I visited Sea Temple Resort for my friends’ nuptials and it was sublime. The service was unfailingly attentive, the food was abundant and the setting looked like something out of a romantic comedy starring Adam Sandler.

Later, I visited Mossman Gorge, a tranquil swimming hole hidden in the Daintree rainforest. I watched bolshie fish swim around my feet as I waded into the sandy-bottomed oasis. Ahhh … bliss.

Mossman Gorge: Home of the performing turkey

That is until a bossy black bush turkey with a scarlet mantel and yellow wattle emerged from the undergrowth to begin its assault on handbags, drink bottles and amused children. I have renamed this performance Bush Burlesque.

I stayed at Villa Rebello, a spacious beach house five minutes drive from Port Douglas and a short walk from the beach. Split between ten people, it was $180 for five nights; crazy cheap. I didn’t venture off the outdoor couch very often but, when I did, it was to jump in the pool.

I can only assume I’m getting this Queen of Queensland gig due to my exceptional qualifications.

Yours sincerely,
Em

The pool at Villa Rebello: My chlorinated Queensland home

I'm not in Marrickville any more

The streets are lined with graceful old beauties, blooming gardens and prestige family cars. Neighbours walk pedigree dogs, push Bugaboos and carry trays of skim lattes.

The weird thing is that I don’t hate it.

I normally sneer at the beige -loving masses. I am wary of too much comfort because it breeds complacency and complacency breeds … contentment?

Is that what I am falling into? A sense of quiet peace and letting go?

All I know is that I am utterly charmed.

What do you love about your suburb, home town or neighbourhood?

Wow, MONA. If Tasmania’s new Museum of Old and New Art was a person, she’d be cool and approachable. Built by art-lover, self-made-gambling-savant and Tasmanian-made-good David Walsh, then filled with his collection of oddities, it’s a world-class museum that’d be at home in Berlin or Beijing. Instead it’s loitering on a riverbank half-an-hour by ferry outside Hobart.

At the entrance, walk in through a fun-fair mirror wall beside a tennis court. Huh? Prepare to cast off the lines of rational thinking as you descend into MONA’s belly, along ramps and nuclear-shelter tunnels, into vaults and video rooms. It’s a vast, underground, wonder-ful world of innovation and imagination – with a few Egyptian scarab beetles and mummified cats’ heads thrown in for good measure.

MONA's mouth

With you is the provocatively named ‘O’, a modified iTouch that’s soooo much more than an audio tour. The exhibits have no labels (rumour has it there were originally no signs on MONA’s public toilets either) – instead, you press the O and it locates you and offers up Artwank (written commentary), Ideas, Gonzo (a rave by David Walsh or curator Elizabeth Mead) and Media (soundtracks, interviews with the artists, music inspired by the art).

It also lets you Love or Hate an exhibit, and find out how many others feel the same. At the time of writing, Bit Fall (a waterfall of words) is the most popular, Cloaca (the eating, pooing machine) the most hated; Walsh has threatened to remove the most loved and keep the most hated works – just to keep us out of our comfort zones. And when you leave MONA, you retrieve your tour online, to re-read, relive and share it with friends.

The famous Cloaca by Wim Delvoye

The O makes MONA at once public and private, personal. There are no guided tours, there’s no jostling around exhibits. It’s often busy – the museum has had about 280,000 visitors in its first eight months and can get 3000 people a day – but it never feels crowded. And unlike a more traditional museum or art gallery, the works are not arranged thematically or chronologically; 2000-year-old artifacts rub shoulders with avante-garde artworks that don’t just push the envelope of good taste, they tear it up. Be surprised, blown away, affronted, amused, touched, involved. This is art at its finest. Run, don’t walk, to MONA.

The fat Porsche by Erwin Wurm

Go: MONA is open Wed-Mon 10am-6pm, entry $20 (it’s free for Tasmanians). Cloaca is fed twice a day, at 11am and 4pm. Also on site are a restaurant (The Source), micro-brewery (Moo Brew), winery (Moorilla Estate) and eight fantastically surreal accommodation pavilions, starting at $490 a night. MONA FOMA (Festival of Music and Art) is on 13-21 Jan 2012. See mona.net.au and mofo.net.au 

Have you been to MONA? What did you think? Were you confronted? Inspired? Outraged? Do tell!

Tim Charody and Tim Doyle:: rad travel dudes

The travel industry is full of fun people. Down-to-earth people. Smart people. Above all, adventurous people.

Two of my favourite Aussie travel dudes are The Two Tims, the globe trotting filmmakers who frolic around making programs for National Geographic, Travel Oz, tourism boards, touring companies and hotels.

They recently visited Darwin and made this video on behalf of Travelodge. It’s all about getting your kicks on a teeny tiny budget – happy days!

They have done heaps of cool stuff over the years. Check out their website here

Sadly, despite much searching, I can’t find the video where they choke down some revolting jellied eels in London so here is the next best thing – a song about eels by two of my favourite comedians, Julian Barrett and Noel Fielding :: Eels – The Mighty Boosh. Ghastly.

Despite my long stint as a resident, I never once attended This Is Not Art Festival , an annual arts festival held in Newcastle City. When one of my besties said he was heading up last weekend, I promptly jumped on the bandwagon. Would it be the tragic pseudo intellectual wankfest I always feared it would be?

Cool street art in Newcastle City

Happily, yes! It was wonderfully wanky. I went to some really informative panel sessions about revenge writing, book publishing and transmedia, attended a spelling bee and ate out a lot. Rather than banging on about the festival (which is held over the October long weekend every year – put it in your diary!), I thought I would recommend the best places to eat and drink in Newcastle because then you needn’t wait twelve months to continue reading.

1. New Shanghai

Located in the piazza at Charlestown Square, New Shanghai is remarkably authentic. I mean, c’mon; Charlestown is a mega mall ie. not the natural habitat of perfect handmade noodles and dumplings. But it turns out it is. I ate myself senseless on silky Shanghai egg noodles, steamed fish dumplings, salt and pepper tofu, garlic water spinach, rainbow beef and stir fried prawns. The restaurant is decked out in heavy reproduction Chinese antiques and has a happy Friday night buzz. If it wasn’t in Newcastle, I would gorge myself silly there every weekend. Fortunately there’s another one at Chatswood.

2. Goldberg’s

Formerly the home of legendarily bad service, Goldberg’s new hiring policy seems to take into consideration personality and skill. I went twice in one weekend and didn’t get spat on or abused even once. Things have certainly changed but, in spite of this, I still love it. By day, it bustles with well-shod locals reading papers and by night (and candlelight), it turns into a bohemian paradise complete with cheap red house wine, mezze plates and people in ironic capes. It’s still too cool to have a website so you will find it on Darby St in Cooks Hill, opposite the Delaney Hotel.

3. The Wickham Park Hotel

Active supporter of live music (huzzah!), this pub has surfboard-shaped tables, a chilled out ‘tea cosy on head’ vibe and a fine selection of tap beers. I went to watch my friend play in his awesome band, Zoe K and the Shadow Katz, and ended up spending many fuzzy hours nestled in the bosom of Coopers Pale Ale and the blues.

4. Rolardor

Conveniently located next to Hamilton train station, Rolardor looks like it’s been transplanted from a Newtown back alley, complete with sexy rockabillies, cakes that look homemade and a breakfast menu for every kind of hangover. I had the vego special and it made me feel a lot better.

5. The Great Northern Hotel

This glorious example of Art Deco architecture has transformed from a hard boozing night spot into a much gentler, folksier place complete with twee little cacti above the bar, live music and more sexy rockabillies (they’re everywhere!). The toilets are wallpapered in hilarious ads from the 1950′s and ’60′s, the bistro serves a mean Sunday roast and there are so many things on tap (imported beers, ciders, local craft beers) that it’s impossible to stay sober.

What did you do on the long weekend? Did you get any sleep? And did you learn anything new? Do tell, friends!

I went out there on a famil (travel industry jargon for ‘familiarisation’) a couple of weeks ago and I was blown away. The resort is beautiful but that’s not what did it. It was the desert environment, the local Anangu people, the Parks Australia staff and the deeper understanding of local indigenous culture that I walked away with.

The Valley of the Winds, Kata Tjuta

Uluru Kata Tjuta National Park (formerly known as Ayers Rock and The Olgas) is operated under an unusual leasehold arrangement where it’s owned by the local Anangu people and jointly managed by the Federal government. This may not sound like a big deal but it is; this is the first indigenous land rights arrangement of its kind in the world (gold star to former Aussie Prime Minister Bob Hawke for pioneering it).

The reason for this? Uluru and Kata Tjuta are immensely significant spiritual places for the Anangu people. The best way I can describe it is that the national park is what Vatican City is to Catholics. When you set foot in the park you, you are in another country; Anangu land. That is why Anangu people respectfully ask tourists not to climb the rock. Can you imagine The Pope letting visitors climb all over the papal altar?

You hear about ‘women’s business’ and ‘men’s business’. Well, it’s serious. Anangu women won’t even look at sacred sites reserved for men. The details of ‘tjukurpa’ (tribal law) is reserved for the initiated but here’s a tip; Uluru was a meeting place and there are several sacred spots around the base but Kata Tjuta is The Big One as far as significance goes; it is a sacred men’s site and not a single white fella knows why – all we’re allowed to know is that it’s important.

I went for a guided walk through ‘The Valley of the Winds’ at Kata Tjuta and, without having a clue about anything, I can honestly say it felt special. Walking amongst enormous red boulders with finches darting in and out of wild peppermint bushes and ravens soaring effortlessly overhead on thermals, I felt at peace. The immense silence carried on the wind is something that you simply cannot find within coo-ee of a city.

This painting at the base of Uluru represents a hair skirt that was used in a women's initiation ritual

I know I’m a starry-eyed convert to the red centre but I honestly think everyone should go there at least once. It is one of the most extraordinary places I have ever been.

Have you been out there? What did you think?

Two words: Rock. Star.

Fast-forward 22 years and I am awake again but this time I am in a rockstar room at Fraser Suites Sydney. There’s a rider on arrival (a box of Adore handmade chocolates, Dunes Sparkling Pinot Noir and some freakishly enormous apples) and a fully stocked tea chest complete with herbal tisanes (my benchmark for excellence).

Beyond the accoutrements of fame (OK, so I am not actually famous but it’s easy to imagine being one of the hotel’s many famous patrons), it’s the view that does it for me. Floor to ceiling windows on the 39th floor overlooking Jones Bay and Pyrmont. City lights spread out like a trippy duvet, as imagined by the costume designers of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s Starlight Express. Or Xanadu. Or possibly even a handy shaman who has had too much peyote and likes glitter. Either way, it’s really sparkly and it makes me feel sparkly too.

The bed is enormous and has gazillion thread count sheets. There is an iPod dock next to the bed so I can listen to tragic old playlists (anyone for a birthing playlist I made for my sister with lots of pre-crack Whitney Houston? Maybe you would like the creatively titled ‘mopey’ playlist which is mostly Radiohead and songs I want played at my funeral?).

There is a couch, a full kitchen, a modern bathroom covered in chocolate-sheen mosaic tiles and fancy organic bath products.

But I don’t care about any of that. I just want to lie in bed, look at the view and imagine that this is my real life.

*With thanks to Will Ferrell

I was lucky enough to have Sharon Wild, a Master of Wine-in-the-making, as my guide for the Barossa Food and Wine Festival (August 19 – 21) so full credit to my leggy blonde friend for showing me around and introducing me to her awesome mates.

Visit a heap of cellar doors

Well, obviously (and there are tonnes to choose from). My favourite was Langmeil with honourable mentions to Peter Lehmann’s, Jacob’s Creek and St Hallett’s. Third generation winemaker James Lindner is a well-versed advocate for the Barossa region and will happily tell you where to go (and what to drink when you get there). The Langmeil cellar door, which is set in an old German blacksmith’s workshop, has an air of gravitas that offsets the cheery carry-on that goes on at the tasting bench.

Have a treatment at Endota Spa at the Novotel Barossa

Everyone speaks very softly at Endota Spa. They pad around like gentle deer, offering organic herbal teas to blissed out guests. I tried a detoxifying red wine soak which was essentially a spa bath anointed with a burgundy potion. Despite my disappointment that I wasn’t bathing in actual wine, the treatment left my skin feeling soft and my hangover eased up (but that might have been due to the scalp massage delivered by Whispering Goddess).

Eat some German meat at Café Zinfandel

Care for a slab of German SPAM? Or perhaps some spatzle noodles fried in butter, sauerkraut, red cabbage, fried potatoes, bratwurst and a schnitzel the size of Tasmania? The food here is the genuine article; vinegary, spicy and heavy on farmyard menagerie.

Go for a wander in Angaston and Tanunda

These two villages are the embodiment of pretty. Antiques, cafes, gift shops and craft make them entirely impractical (ie don’t visit in the hope that you can buy some engine coolant and a five pack of undies) but what you will enjoy is the village feel and the immaculately kept gardens that look like something out of a Jane Austen mini-series.

Watch the sunset from Mengler’s Hill Lookout

Sculpture gardens are puzzling things, and none so much as the Sculpture Park set high on the hillside overlooking an endless valley. Contemporary stone and bronze artworks are set on a path that wends it’s way around the hillside. Who knows what it all means and who really cares. It’s cool. Front up at sunset with a six-pack and watch the sun set in style before you head off to dinner at someone’s house (because by now, someone has probably invited you over).

For more information about the Barossa Valley, click here.

A little while back, I was lucky enough to win a night at The Carrington for Yulefest so I decided to take two of my lady friends on a fake Christmas adventure.

Arriving at the hotel, you feel like you’ve walked onto the set of Boardwalk Empire. Sweeping driveways, a 1920s patio area, magnificent stained glass windows and original features such as a lift where you open the doors by hand.

The walls are lined with immaculately preserved Norman Lindsay prints, historical black-and-white photos and tourism posters for the Blue Mountains. For once, the heritage colour scheme of burgundy, English Racing green and cream doesn’t drive me nuts and there are tasteful pieces of antique and reproduction furniture placed throughout the building.

Our room was perfectly comfortable and featured a window seat that appealed to my writer buddies (they both went and sat in it straight away). The bathroom had an institutional vibe, further enhanced by the lack of shower screen. It seemed purpose-built for hosing off loonies or infirm elderly.

The Carrington’s ongoing renovation has been underway since 1999. I reckon that bathroom is next on the ‘to do’ list.

Come 7pm and we headed down to the bar to be ‘piped’ into the dining room. As much as that sounds like a cruel catering-inspired torture, it was actually just a Scottish bagpipe player.

Drinks were served, canapes were delivered and the rest of the night is a blur of extreme happiness.

The first course was pumpkin consomme (clear soup), second was prawn, avocado and salmon salad, third was roast turkey wrapped in proscuitto with mash and roast veggies, fourth was a dessert plate with a mini pudding, trifle and cranberry rice pudding and fifth was a truffle, macaroon and a cuppa.

By the end of all that, I was ready to curl into a foetal position and groan for a while but no; the revelry continued. We stepped out into the fog and walked approximately 20m to the Old City Bank Brasserie & Bar where Pugsley Buzzard, an American musician was rocking the joint with his Tom Waits voice and ragtime piano.

Drunkenness and wildly improvisational dancing ensued.

Next stop: The Harp and Fiddle, approximately 40m around the corner. More drinking and more dancing, but this time to the hits of 2001. It was like being back at university.

It was 3.45am when we finally dragged our sweaty, smoky bodies back in the door. More decent looking men had tried to pick us up in the past five hours than in the past decade.

Nothing cheers up 30-something women quite like refusing the advances of handsome 24 year olds.