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You might know Fiji as a ‘flop and drop’ destination—a term I heard a lot of during my seven days in this tropical paradise. Y’know, a place where Aussies can come over by the plane-full in search of a resort where they can sun themselves, gorge on buffet meals and have one too many cocktails at the swim-up bar.

And I admit I was one of them. This was my third time in Fiji, but the first time I actually left the white sands of Natadola Beach at the InterContinental, dragged myself out of the adults-only pool at the Sheraton or slept in anything other than one of the Marriott’s overwater bungalows.

What I didn’t realise was just how much Fiji had to offer. Beyond the brochure cliches lies a country bursting with warmth, infectious spirit and a whole lot of thrilling adventure. But before I dive headfirst into the latter (spoiler alert: there’s a lot of water involved), there’s a word we should talk about that you’ll hear approximately 12 seconds after landing in Fiji: bula.

Yes, it’s a greeting: a way of saying hello. And yes, it technically means, “life,” but it’s so much more than the sum of its four letters. It’s a blessing of good health, an unspoken challenge to embrace life with both arms wide open, an invitation to try new things, and a genuine and enthusiastic, “We’re so glad you’re here.”

And guess what? Fijians love it when you say it back. The more heartfelt it sounds, the more people light up with smiles and stories that’ll make you feel as if you’ve stumbled into a country full of your closest friends and family – a truly comforting feeling when you’re so far from home.

But back to the adventure.

Kayaking wasn’t the first adventurous activity our group did, but it was one of my favourites. Paddling through Fiji’s mangroves felt like entering a natural cathedral, except the pews are roots and the stained glass is made up of sunlight filtering through the lush green foliage.

The water might have been calm, but my breathing definitely wasn’t. Prepare to use every last ounce of your shoulder strength, especially if you’re trying to impress the local guides with your athletic prowess like I tried to (and failed at).

We glided through peaceful winding channels, only occasionally bumping into things we shouldn’t, and passed hundreds of mangroves acting like guardians of this little slice of Fiji’s ecosystem. It was serene…until someone glided too close to a wasp’s nest.

But the kayaking was preparing us for the main event, the activity I couldn’t wait to try: whitewater rafting down the Upper Navua River. Our Rivers Fiji guides briefed us on all the safety precautions, like how to position your body in the water if you fall out and how numb our butts were going to feel, but they didn’t warn us about how breathtaking the narrow (in some parts) waterway would be.

The river’s flanked by towering volcanic cliffs, lush rainforest straight out of Tarzan and waterfalls you can actually get close to. But my serene surroundings lulled me into a false sense of security. At one point I was even wondering if I’d break a sweat. Then came the rapids.

Okay so it’s not like we were paddling down the Futaleufu River in Chile, but these rapids weren’t nothing either. The only thing piercing the sounds of crashing water on rocks was our guide Moses’ voice, telling us to, “Paddle together family,” shouting as if our life depended on it.

I’ll let you in on a little secret: you’ll survive. Not only because the Rivers Fiji guides are pros (Moses has been rafting the river for decades), but also because the adrenaline-inducing rapids are over before you know it, quick to be replaced by calmer sections of the river. Your fully wet clothes—and some sick GoPro footage—are the only reminders that it ever even happened.

Here’s the thing though, as exhilarating as its adventures are, it’s the people of this island country that steal the show. Fijians are renowned for their hospitality, which isn’t the polished, almost rehearsed kind you get at the fancy resorts. It’s authentic, sincere and infused with a sense of humour that’s hard to find anywhere else.

During our stay at Natalei Eco Lodge (located in Dawasamu), I found myself sitting cross-legged on the floor, drinking kava (a mild sedative ceremonial drink) and trying to follow the words of the nearby village’s chief. I didn’t understand a thing and had only been subtly coached by our gracious tour guides on what to expect and how to behave.

But the locals just good-naturedly laughed at each one of our slight mistakes, and simply smiled when one of us asked for a, “Very low, low, low tide.” They didn’t take themselves too seriously, and by the end of your stay in this country, you won’t either. It turns out Tourism Fiji’s slogan—where happiness comes naturally—isn’t just a saying, it’s a sentiment.

*Image credit to the Adventure Travel Trade Association and Studio 4×4*

Trade the Christmas chaos for Hinterland views, spa treatments and sun-kissed skin at Lo Scoglio, Byron’s newest (hotel) bae. The vibe might be Italian villa, but when it’s 40 degrees outside and Lo Scoglio’s infinity pool is practically begging for a cannonball, there’ll be no doubt in your mind – you’re in for an Aussie Christmas.

There’s a yoga deck that’s perfect for post-present lounging, a bar menu full of cocktails that put even the richest eggnog to shame and an ice bath and infrared sauna combo for when you’ve gone a little too hard on the festive cheer (read: champagne).

If you’re looking for a Christmas escape that’s different from your usual snowy situation then Jalakara, nestled on the Adaman Islands in India, fits the bill. This place is more ‘tropical breeze’ than Silent Night, with white sand for as far as the eye can see, palm trees that sway constantly and cocktails you’ll want to swap your hot chocolate for.

And you can forget about the turkey (you won’t get one here). Instead, dine on fresh seafood, including a spiny lobster platter and sugar-cured tiger prawns. Throw the hotel’s raw and beautiful setting into the mix, and you’ve got the perfect Christmas getaway.

Jetting off to the Caribbean for Christmas sounds a little odd, but when your final festive destination is Silversands Beach House in Grenada, it makes perfect sense…at least to us. That’s because this chic beachfront hotel is luxurious yet extremely intimate. In other words, no one’s going to hear you playing Micheal Bublé on repeat.

The hotel grounds are set on top of a cliff overlooking Portici Beach (which has the most turquoise-y waters you’ve ever seen) and there’s only 28 rooms in the joint: each one boasting a private terrace with a sail-like canopy that’s a perfect spot for your post-Christmas feast coma.

When you think of Christmas, it’s probably woolly coats, festive markets and steaming cups of mulled wine that come to mind, but swap pine trees for palm trees and island sunsets for snow and you’ve got yourself Christmas at Aloita Boutique Resorts in the Mentawai Islands.

This place is pure luxury; beachfront bungalows dot the white sand, lounges full of plush sofas and entertainment wait around every corner, and a cold coconut-laden bar hides under the swaying palm trees. Even Santa would trade in his sleigh for a surfboard at this place.

A stay at Kentucky’s Bourbon Barrel Retreats is the ultimate Christmas plot twist. While everyone else is drinking eggnog and mulled wine, you’ll be sipping on festive ‘spirit’ of a different kind: plenty of good ol’ bourbon.

This retreat is nestled in the heart of Bourbon Country – you’re completely surrounded by distilleries, tours, bars and restaurants all centred on the golden-brown stuff. So, it makes sense that these barrels are literally the perfect place for a Chrissy nightcap.

But these aren’t your average dusty, crusty and musty barrels. They have 10-foot-high ceilings, and king-sized beds, and kitchenettes, and beautiful curved wooden walls. Five of them even have outdoor hot tubs, so the bubbling hot water can warm the outside of your body while the smooth taste of world-class bourbon spreads heat from the inside.

When Christmas comes around every year, it’s hard to not keep doing the same things; you unpack the same decorations, watch the same movies and listen to the same Mariah Carey songs. But not this year.

This year you’re heading to the Rock Cabins at Kapolcsi Sziklak in Hungary, where your holiday season won’t just be different, it’ll be unforgettable.

Picture this: you’re nestled in a cosy wooden cabin surrounded by frosted Hungarian hills and a little dusting of snow. You’re feeling all toasty inside from the hot chocolate you’ve just finished, and you feel like braving the breeze for a dip in the jacuzzi. It’s December 24th and Christmas is only hours away, life is good. Pretty epic, huh?

Spend Christmas at CERVO Mountain Resort in Zermatt, where the only thing more stunning than the snow-capped peaks is the apres-ski scene. You can still pack your cheesy holiday jumper, but the resort’s all about sleek chalets and hot chocolate served with a side of ‘seriously epic view’.

Indulge in gourmet dining, lounge by the open fire and hit the Matterhorn slopes on Christmas day. Maybe Santa brought you some new skis? The only problem is, once you spend one Christmas here, you’re gonna want to spend every Christmas here. But y’know, pick your battles.

If we had to throw in one Christmas city escape, it simply had to be in Tokyo, and the hotel simply had to be Janu. Don’t worry, we’ll tell you why.

This city never tones it down – it’s edgy and high-energy, two characteristics that only heighten during December. And Janu’s floor-to-ceiling views of Tokyo’s city lights give you a front-row seat to the Big Man’s movements on Christmas Eve.

Yes, you’ll have to swap a home-cooked ham for world-class fusion cuisine, but we can bet ya the food tastes more comforting when you’re not the one doing the washing up. There’s also a spa/zen-haven for when having your third helping goes from being the best idea to the worst.

Feel like embracing a different culture’s holiday traditions this December? Introducing Mallorca’s Grand Hotel Son Net, a picturesque property nestled at the foothills of UNESCO-protected Sierra de Tramuntana Mountains that’s more than ready to ramp up the festive spirit.

Decorations light up the hotel’s common areas, candlelit feasts full of Majorcan Christmas ball cake and seasonal soup burst from each on-site restaurant, and vineyard tastings bring out the local holiday flavours.

And we haven’t mentioned the rooms yet. Guests have a choice of three room types: the palace, the pool cottages and the pool cottage house. Each type has a distinct personality with incredible attention to detail and a style that feels like you’re Christmas-ing like a royal.

Okay we’re back on our tropical grind with this one, and it’s for good reason – Christmas at Cauayan Island Resort in the Philippines is pure paradise-y magic. Instead of heavy-duty gloves and snowy landscapes, think swimsuits and private villas with infinity pools you won’t stop swimming in.

This resort offers everything from a personalised butler service to epic diving spots right at your holly-wreathed doorstep. Holiday stress? Haven’t heard of her. The private hotel’s spa provides a welcome escape with facials, rejuvenating massages and other beauty treatments so you can start the new year the right way.

NAGANO: STEPPING INTO NAGANO IS LIKE WALKING INTO A WORLD CAREFULLY TUCKED BETWEEN TRADITION AND QUIET REBELLION AGAINST THE MODERN RAT RACE.

My first stop is Zenkoji Temple, one of Japan’s oldest Buddhist temples and, more importantly, a treasure trove of secrets that don’t surrender easily. It’s before dawn as I shuffle in, eager but hushed, feeling the weight of the place. The temple hosts a morning ceremony—a nod to the ages-old belief that no day should begin without a blessing.

The priest’s chants fill the hall like smoke, thick and unmissable, coaxing my mind to an almost meditative state. The centrepiece of the ritual, though, remains unseen. A sacred statue of Amida-Nyorai, the Buddha of infinite light, is hidden within the altar’s depths. The statue was brought from Baekje, one of the Three Kingdoms of Korea, in 552 and has never been viewed by mortal eyes, not even the head priest’s. As the chanting settles, I’m ready for what’s next: the Okaidan passage.

The Chief Priest departs. Click to view gallery

The Okaidan is not just a passage; it’s a rite of passage. This pitch-black tunnel wriggles beneath the main hall, right under where that hidden Buddha rests. It’s said you emerge changed and reborn. So, of course, I dive in. There’s nothing to see (it’s complete darkness), but I hear shuffling footsteps. The stone walls press in like a heartbeat, steady but somehow intimidating. Suddenly, my fingers graze something cold: it is the ‘key’ to paradise. According to the locals, touching this lock, known as the ‘key’ to paradise,’ which connects you to the Buddha, grants you safe passage into the afterlife.. An odd calm comes over me a second later, as if I’ve brushed against something profoundly ancient.

Back above ground, the sun is fully up. Feeling slightly changed and reborn I’m ready for breakfast the Nagano way: street food. I hunt down a stall selling Oyaki, a bun stuffed with everything from sweet red bean paste to savoury miso eggplant. It’s as warm and filling as it sounds, and honestly, I could eat these things all day.

Pockets of deliciousness. Click to view gallery

Next on my itinerary is a visit to the Hokusai-kan Museum. The name Hokusai alone has the art nerd in me buzzing—yes, that’s the man behind the iconic “Great Wave off Kanagawa.” His art moves from delicate landscapes to bold brushstrokes, capturing Japan with an intensity that feels raw and unapologetic. I leave feeling a touch more artistic than I did before and head to the Nishinomon Yoshinoya Sake Brewery, a 400-year-old establishment that’s practically a shrine to Japan’s love affair with rice wine. After a few taste tests, I conclude that my appreciation for sake has just been elevated from “polite interest” to “sign me up.”

Nishinomon Yoshinoya sake brewery. Click to view gallery

Sake with a 400 year history. Click to view gallery

Back at Shinshu Zenkoji Yakuoin (my accommodation for the night), the simplicity of the traditional inn is like a blanket I didn’t know I needed. But before I sleep, I try my hand at Shakyo, the art of hand-copying sutras. Sitting there with brush and ink, each stroke feels purposeful, like part of me is being carved away and left on the page. By the time I finish, my mind is oddly still, like I’ve stumbled into a meditation I didn’t know I signed up for.

A monk’s vegetarian feast. Beer included. Click to view gallery

Dinner at the inn is a monk’s vegetarian spread, and while that may sound austere, it’s anything but. There’s a miso soup that’s so delicate and complex it practically deserves its own ceremony and an assortment of vegetables so fresh they taste like the very essence of the fields. The Japanese lager I down with it feels like a rebellious twist to the meal—who knew monks could be so fun?

The next day, I met Mr. Shimizu for a forest bathing experience. There’s a pseudo-science to it: cedar trees, like the ones towering around us, release antibacterial particles that, when inhaled, have a positive effect on the body and mind. Mr. Shimizu leads me down a hidden path, and soon, I feel the deep hum of nature seeping in, grounding me with every step. The trees stand tall, unbothered, just doing their thing. And all I’m supposed to do is breathe and exist. It’s magic, pure and simple, but it’s about to get even more spiritual.

In the remote mountains of Nagano, the tradition of the Yamabushi, ancient mountain ascetic monks, still lives on through one of its last practitioners: Shida-san. The Yamabushi practice is a unique form of spiritual training, blending elements of Shintoism, Buddhism, and nature worship.

Shida-San, one of the last Yamabushi in the region, offers visitors the rare opportunity to experience this ancient tradition firsthand. Participants embark on a journey into the sacred mountains, engaging in meditative forest walks, waterfall rituals, and fire ceremonies. These practices, designed to cleanse the body and mind, bring participants closer to nature while deepening their understanding of themselves.

The last Yamabushi of Nagano doesn’t look like someone who could outpace a middle-aged travel writer through a mountainside forest. Yet, there I was, bent over a gnarled cedar root, panting and drenched, while Shida-san was halfway down the trail, barely breaking a sweat.

It started innocently enough. On our descent out of the spiritual forest, I challenge Shida-san to a race to the gate. He’s small. I’m not and I thought my legs gave me an advantage. I thought I had a chance. Wrong. Within minutes, Shida-san had transformed from the calm, almost mystical presence at our briefing into a flash of white robes disappearing down the trail, his traditional staff tapping out a steady rhythm.

“Mind, body, nature—all one!” he called over his shoulder, as I stumbled over something that might have been my own foot. Somehow, he made it look like he was floating over the terrain, while I looked more like an overstuffed backpack with legs, crashing through branches.

No chance of catching this forest ninja! Click to view gallery

Halfway down, my lungs decided they’d had enough of this “enlightenment” nonsense, and I slowed to a pathetic shuffle, my ego in tatters. Shida-san’s laughter rang up from below, and he paused, offering a few words of Yamabushi wisdom about “releasing the self.” I think he meant giving up the need to win, though I’d already figured that part out.

But here’s the twist: losing to Shida-san was almost… liberating. By the time I crawled to the end, he’d somehow transformed the race into a ritual, a reminder that these mountains don’t care about time or trophies. Shida-san’s teachings are embedded in every cedar and waterfall—quiet reminders that in this forest, you’re just another wandering spirit, learning to let go.

Back at the base, he gave me a nod. “You’re ready for next time,” he said. Maybe he was just being polite, or maybe he really saw potential. Either way, next time, I’m taking a shortcut.

My Nagano escapade nearing its end, I head to Hatano restaurant for dinner. Nestled in a countryside house, the restaurant serves a seven-course feast with ingredients sourced from nearby farms. Each dish feels like a love letter to Japan’s culinary soul—meticulously plated and packed with flavours that are both foreign and comfortingly familiar. By the time dessert rolls around, I’ve declared it the best Japanese meal I’ve ever had.

As I savour the final bite, I realise Nagano has somehow seeped into my bones. It’s not just the temples or the food or even the cedar-scented air—it’s the mix of reverence and playfulness, of secrets kept and secrets shared. Nagano is not a place you visit; it’s a place that stays with you, quietly transformative in ways you might only understand later. For now, I raise a final glass to the day and think: if paradise is real, it’s hiding somewhere in the shadowy corners of Zenkoji Temple, waiting for those brave enough to reach out and find it.

It’s hard to believe I’ve only been in Japan for four days. I’m not sure if it is the spiritual nature of Nagano or the breadth of experiences but home feels much further away now. As Nagano disappears out the window of the Hokuriku Shinkansen and we race north to the ancient samurai city of Kanazawa, I promise to get back someday.

KANAZAWA: ARRIVING IN KANAZAWA CITY FEELS LIKE UNCOVERING AN OLD LEGEND THAT SOMEHOW NOBODY ELSE HAS STUMBLED ACROSS.

Nestled on Japan’s western coast, this city is a tapestry of samurai legacy, artistic tradition, and cuisine that could even humble Tokyo. Kanazawa managed to escape bombing in WWII, which is perhaps why its ancient streets and perfectly preserved buildings seem so resolute against the march of time. Today, Kanazawa feels like Japan’s best-kept secret—a harmonious blend of tradition and high-concept cuisine that will have you questioning why it’s not on every travel itinerary (because it should be).

Creating an edible masterpiece at Tile. Click to view gallery

After checking into my hotel, I head for lunch at Tile. The restaurant’s menu is a work of art, and each dish lands on my table looking too perfect to eat—sashimi plates that look like pastel waves and desserts that would make an Instagrammer quiver. My reluctance to destroy the aesthetic loses out to my appetite, and I tuck in. The sashimi is delicate and fresh, while the miso-infused main leaves me wanting more. I’m not sure how Tile does it, but it feels like I’ve dined on more of an art gallery than a meal.

Afterwards, I wander the Higashi Chaya district, a perfectly preserved neighbourhood of teahouses and narrow lanes. Back in the day, this was where geishas entertained merchants and samurai alike. Today, it’s as enchanting as it sounds, with lattice windows and old-world vibes.

Safe to say they know what they’re doing. Click to view gallery

I stop by Fukumitsuya, a sake brewery that’s been in the game since 1625, using pure water from Mt. Hakusan that’s been filtering underground for over a century. The sake is soft and clean, with a depth that hints at its ancient roots. I raise my glass, imagining samurai toasting over the same stuff centuries ago.

With a slight sake buzz, I enter Kenroku-en, Kanazawa’s crown jewel and one of Japan’s “Three Great Gardens”. Established over centuries by the Maeda family, the feudal lords of the region, Kenroku-en means “Garden of Six Qualities.” These qualities—space, seclusion, artifice, antiquity, water features, and wide views—are rarely found together, but here they blend seamlessly. Meandering through its winding paths, past tranquil ponds and elegantly twisted pines, is like stepping into a classical painting.

A tea ceremony follows, and I learn the art of Chado, the skilled craft of preparing and serving matcha, a finely ground green tea. It consists of much ceremony, bowing and whisking bitter green tea until it foams—a skill that, after about ten minutes of trying, I’m actually not too bad at. I’m told this ceremony is about cultivating a peaceful spirit. I wouldn’t say I’m there yet, but the scenery certainly helps.

Learning the ways of Chado. Click to view gallery