Sleep inside an art installation

Paris has always been dramatic, but this autumn, it’s officially gone full sci-fi. Le Meurice, the impossibly elegant Dorchester Collection hotel that’s been seducing artists for centuries, has teamed up with the design wizards at Things From. to create Suite 1835 – an immersive pop-up that’s both luxury stay and sensory hallucination.

Available from the 8th of October to the 31st of December, this suite isn’t just somewhere to dump your bags; it’s an interactive art installation where the furniture glows as you move, the carpet is made of aluminium, and the walls seem to hum with the future. Basically, it’s Versailles meets Blade Runner.

Guests can even wander into a neighbouring meditation room – think mirrored cube, AI-generated visuals that react to your “energy,” and a quadraphonic sound system.

Naturally, this kind of transcendental weirdness doesn’t come cheap – rooms start at AU$6,883 per night – but hey, enlightenment has never been part of the breakfast buffet. The silver lining? Some of the profits go toward scholarships at Ensaama, so at least your trip to another dimension helps fund the next generation of French designers.

If you’ve ever wanted to experience Paris through light, sound, and slightly trippy introspection, Le Meurice’s Suite 1835 is your one-way ticket to the future. Who wants in?

Beyond the Black Stuff: Dublin’s Open Gate Brewery Lets Guinness Go Wild

Slip down the cobbled lanes behind the Guinness mothership and you’ll find a discreet little door that feels more speakeasy than brewery. No neon, no fanfare and no hordes of tourists. Step inside and you’re not in the Guinness Storehouse throng anymore, you’re in the Open Gate Brewery, the secret lair where Ireland’s most famous pint takes its tie off and gets experimental.

We got lucky, real lucky, stumbling upon a random Stout Festival. Suddenly Guinness isn’t just Guinness, it’s a technicolour freak show of flavours: chili chocolate stout that smacks you silly, peanut butter stout that makes you question life choices, and tiramisu stout that somehow belongs on both a dessert menu and a tap list.

Long tables brim with tasting paddles and strangers debating with new friends about “the one stout to rule them all,” (that’s the Konbad Imperial that crosses my eyes ata lazy 10.5%). DJs keep it loud, the kitchen keeps it stout-soaked, and the whole thing feels more underground rave than brewery tour.

Come back on a regular night and the secret door still delivers. The crowd is thinner, but the taps are no less daring, There’s a selection of saisons, sours, coffee stouts and more beers the Guinness faithful are too polite to mention at the pub down the road. The space is stripped-back and communal, the food ridiculously good (try the stout-braised beef or whiskey-cured salmon), and the vibe one of discovery, like you’ve stumbled into a Dublin secret the tourists missed.

In short: Open Gate Brewery is Guinness gone rogue. Whether you sneak in during the chaos of a Stout Festival or on a quiet Wednesday, the back-door entrance is your ticket to a side of Dublin’s most famous brewery that most never see.

Play Ariodante’s new immersive game

Imagine a treasure hunt so exclusive, so top-secret that even your GPS wouldn’t spill the beans; this is The Queen’s Lost Diamonds, Ariodante’s audacious new immersive “anti-game” debuting in Paris this fall.

But this game is less ‘puzzle with a timer’ and more like a three-day, adrenaline-fueled odyssey across the City of Light where every cobblestone may be hiding a clue, and every café could be your downfall.

Forget the rules because you make your own. With over 100 unique structural scenes, an impressive actor-to-player ratio, and literally dozens of secret venues (some never open to civilians), this isn’t your typical gameplay; it’s guerrilla history.

Here, decisions aren’t hints—they’re your lifeline. Turn left down a dimly lit alley, and you might stumble into a conspiratorial meeting with a ghostly historical figure, and by “historical figure,” we mean anyone from Napoleon I to Delacroix, or a fashion designer who may or may not be part of the script.

Yeah so it costs a decent chunk of cash, starting at around AU971k, but what price do you put on being the hero of your own clandestine saga? Participants must be picked, vetted, and silenced under NDAs; after all, illusions must remain… well, illusive.

And sure, you could spend your weekend queuing to get into the Louvre (it’d be sooo much cheaper), but this game might just be the craziest immersive experience we’ve ever stumbled upon and wading into a different reality on the hunt for pricey gems beats taking a pic of the Mona Lisa any day.

Selar expeditions set to launch in 2026

If your idea of a cruise involves endless buffets, bingo nights, and enough emissions to melt the poles, Selar would like a quiet word (and a strong gust of wind).

Launching in 2026, Selar is the world’s first fully sustainable polar expedition company, and it’s here to prove that you can chase adventure and save the planet at the same time.

Helmed by Arctic explorer, ice pilot, and all-around badass Sophie Galvagnon (alongside two entrepreneurial trailblazers, Julia Bijaoui and Quentin Vacher), Selar’s luxury voyages will take just 36 lucky adventurers on noise-free, zero-emission journeys into the most remote reaches of the Arctic. We’re talking sails with solar panels, cabins with horizon views, a rooftop sauna, and hot chocolate served in driftwood huts. Pinterest, eat your heart out.

But there’s more. Selar’s trips have no set itinerary, just pure, spontaneous adventure. Spot a polar bear? Go silent and observe. Fancy a kayak around a glacier? Done. Want to ski down an untouched fjord then sip glögg under the Northern Lights? Absolutely.

You’ll share the ship with scientists, artists, and maybe a seal or two, as well as take part in polar clean-ups and citizen science. Because why just see the world when you can help save it?

Selar’s whole motto is that they’re ‘not a cruise, but an expedition’. But make it carbon-negative, luxury-forward, and wildly unforgettable.

Laugarás Lagoon

Just when you thought Iceland couldn’t get any more extra with its volcanoes, geysers and Björk, along comes Laugarás Lagoon, a brand-new, two-level geothermal wonderland opening this August. Yes, August 15. Mark it. Tattoo it. Whatever works.

Nestled in the Golden Circle near the town of Laugarás, this steamy newcomer isn’t your average hot spring. For starters, it has a cascading waterfall inside the lagoon. That’s right. You can literally soak, slide, and swan dive your way through levels of geothermally-heated luxury (it’s doing the most).

And the vibe is Nordic chic meets “I may never leave.” Expect warm mineral pools reaching up to 40°C, forest views, and two bars because nothing says wellness quite like sipping bubbly in a 5,000-year-old lava field.

If that’s not enough, there are also saunas, a glacial plunge pool (for people who enjoy voluntary suffering), and a secret grotto where you can hide from your travel companions or contemplate your life choices in peace.

And if all that lounging makes you hungry, fear not. Ylja, the onsite restaurant, is headed up by Icelandic culinary wizard Gísli Matt. Think hyper-local ingredients served with mountain views and zero shame if you wanna wear a robe to dinner.
In short: Laugarás Lagoon is set to be the country’s next hot thing, literally.

UBS Digital Art Museum

Forget everything you think you know about museums; you know, the stiff silence, velvet ropes, and the security guard sitting down in the corner of every room. Hamburg’s UBS Digital Art Museum is smashing all that with a pixel-powered wrecking ball when it opens its neon-soaked doors later this year.

This isn’t a place where you look at art. It’s a place where art looks back at you and then follows you around. The museum’s crown jewel is a full-blown immersive takeover by Japan’s teamLab Borderless – those digital wizards who turn rooms into kaleidoscopic, interactive wonderlands where flowers bloom around your feet and waterfalls rearrange themselves as you walk through.

Set in HafenCity and billed as Europe’s largest digital art museum, this 6,500-square-metre dreamscape is what happens when tech, creativity, and just the right amount of ambition get together for a late-night brainstorm. And yes, your phone’s camera roll is about to suffer (in the best way).

But this isn’t just an art-fuelled fever dream, it’s also climate-neutral. Because why not save the planet and blow people’s minds at the same time? So, if you’ve ever wanted to stroll through a living canvas or just need somewhere better than your living room to take a dramatic selfie, this one’s for you.

Hangovers, Hazy IPAs and the High Alps

One man’s mission to survive Innsbruck’s beer, schnitzel and snow.

I’m dragging my hungover carcass through the medieval alleyways of Innsbruck. This is a city where baroque opulence collides with snow-covered adrenaline. Did I mention the hangover? The kind of hangover that only comes from partying with Austrians during the Downhill World Championships in Saalbach the night before. Austrians plus snow plus a world-class event equals real partying. We’re talking schnapps-fuelled, lederhosen-wearing, après-ski mayhem that makes Ibiza look like a book club.

I’m extremely thankful for the warmth of an early check-in at the Hotel Schwarzer Adler, a hotel 400 years older than my own country. I wonder if Mozart himself ever wandered the hallways. I check in and collect my Ski Plus City Pass. This little card is the golden ticket to Tyrolean fun, giving me access not just to ski lifts in nearby Kühtai, but also to city attractions, public transport, museums, and even Swarovski’s shimmering fever dream of a museum. I do what any responsible journalist would do: go find some crystals.

Swarovski Kristallwelten is like falling headfirst into a glittering fantasy land. The entrance is a grass-covered giant’s head with crystals for eyes. It’s actually more like a Bond lair than a museum. Inside, rooms explode in light, mirrors, and existential sparkle.

One gallery casually displays the number of Swarovski crystals embedded in celebrity costumes over the decades, which is frankly obscene. Elton John, unsurprisingly, leads the charge. His outfits shimmering with enough bling to light a runway you can see from space. There’s a mechanical birdcage, a silent snowstorm that never ends, and a room of music-playing crystals that feels like Brian Eno went on an acid bender at a jewellery store. The highlight is a walkway with a roof of hundreds of crystal speakers, each one speaking to you as you walk underneath; languages from all over the world. It’s truly surreal.

I go full Austrian for dinner with a hearty plate of Tiroler Gröstl and a schnapps at Weisses Rössl, one of Innsbruck’s most traditional inns. It’s all low timber beams, candlelit corners, and centuries of Alpine gemütlichkeit (that’s friendliness). The waitstaff wear dirndls like they mean it, and the menu reads like a greatest hits of Austrian comfort food. I ordered the schnitzel, because you have to. What arrives is a golden, perfectly crisp, pan-fried miracle roughly the size of a snowboard. It crackles under the knife and melts like butter in the mouth. It is easily the greatest schnitzel I’ve ever eaten.

After dinner, I wander slowly and bloated through the backstreets in the moody glow of gaslights and gothic arches. It’s here, happily lost in the old town of Innsbruck, that I stumble upon Tribaun.

It doesn’t look like much. Just a door. But down the steps is a den of hops-fuelled sin. Craft beer from all over Europe, tattooed bartenders with opinions, and a crowd that looks like they argue about fermentation methods for fun. I fall in with some locals who pull me into a “shout”, an endless cycle of buying and consuming increasingly aggressive beers. One hazy IPA hits like a freight train of citrus, pine, and regret. I think I’m winning until I try to stand up.

Morning. Kühtai. A yodelling demon pounds timpani drums in my skull. My ski instructor sizes me up like a butcher choosing which bit to cut first. I’m pale, I’m trembling, but I’m committed.

Kühtai is Austria’s highest ski village, perched at over 2,000 metres, which means snow is pretty much guaranteed. The drive up from Innsbruck is a leisurely forty minutes with increasingly stunning views as you wind up through villages and into Kuhtai. The slopes here are a glorious patchwork of wide cruisers and narrow chutes, flanked by rugged peaks. There’s something for everyone here, easy-going blues that lull you into confidence, and then out of nowhere, sneaky reds and aggressive blacks that demand respect (and functioning knees).

I start with a gentle run to test the structural integrity of my head. It’s going well until I hit an icy patch, and I’m suddenly skiing backwards. Still, my instructor is encouraging, or at least I think that’s what he’s saying in thick Tyrolean dialect while trying not to laugh. We traverse tree-lined paths, open powder bowls, and even flirt with a mogul field. The stunning views make it hard to concentrate on the snow in front of me. The snow is perfect, the air is merciless, and gravity is no longer my friend. I wobble, I slide, I survive. Just.

Lunch saves me. At Kühtaier DorfStadl, out on the deck, I devour a heaving plate of Käsespätzle (think cheese, pasta, bacon, delishessness) and a crisp pilsner, and I’m back! I emerge from my hangover cocoon, part man, part dairy product, but ready to return to the slopes.

Back in Innsbruck, the Old Town waits like a storybook villain: pretty, polished, and probably dangerous. I wander past Rococo buildings, duck into the Hofburg Palace for a hit of imperial delusion, then lose myself in AUDIOVERSUM, a science museum about sound where my battered ears get one last chance at redemption.

Dinner at Wilderin is everything you want a final supper to be. This place is uber local, seasonal and paired with just enough wine to forget the hangover but remember the fondue. I sit up at the bar and befriend the owner, Michael, whose passion for sustainable cuisine is remarkable. He convinces me to try the Austrian specialty, Beuschel. He refuses to disclose the ingredients, and I trust him. It’s delicious. And even after Michael explains that it is a traditional Austrian “grandmother” specialty stew of lung, spleen and heart, I mop up the stringy bits with bread. It’s that good.

On my last day, I head up to Nordkette. It’s three cable cars to the top, each one peeling back layers of the city until all that remains is air, snow, and ego. At the final stop, Hafelekar, I lace up my boots and take the short, snowy hike toward the famed peak, the Top of Innsbruck. It’s not a long walk, but every step carries the weight of 2,300 metres of altitude and the kind of drop-offs that inspire awkward laughter and sweaty palms. One small slip here and I genuinely believe I could slide all the way into Germany, passport-free, face-first, and screaming.

The view is outrageous. On one side, Innsbruck spreads out like a gingerbread model city: spires, pastel facades, and neatly squared-off streets framed by the Inn River. Spin around and you’re staring into the raw, jagged Alps and beyond, the valleys of Bavaria. It’s like standing on the edge of two countries, one foot in Austria, the other dangling temptingly toward a bratwurst-fuelled future. The wind bites, but the scenery punches harder. It’s the kind of panorama that makes you whisper-swear in amazement.

Innsbruck sprawling below, mountains all around. “Fark.”

At lunch, I toast the Tyrol with a glass of something cold, stare into the endless white, and feel like I’ve survived something.

Then, of course, there’s time for one last hurrah. With my train departing in the early evening, I have just enough time for one last visit to Tribaun. The bartender gives me a knowing look and pours another hazy IPA. I raise my glass to Innsbruck, the city that broke me, rebuilt me, and broke me again.

Prost.

Travel in shoulder season to get 20% off Eurail

Craving Europe but allergic to queues, sweaty crowds and paying €12 for a sad gelato? Eurail’s whispering sweet savings in your ear with 20% off all Global and One Country Passes – if you’re smart enough to travel after the summer madness.

From 1 September, you can gallivant across 33 countries, blissfully free of selfie-stick mobs and sunburnt tourists yelling in caps lock.

But why now? Because Eurail wants to curb overtourism and gently nudge Aussies into shoulder season travel. Turns out 37% of us descend on Europe during its busiest months – July especially – causing gridlock in Venice and major heartbreak for introverts everywhere.

So, let’s lay it out: book your pass before 3 July 2025, and travel from 1 September onwards. You’ll get perks like uncrowded piazzas, autumn wine harvests, cherry blossom-lined canals, and actual breathing room in museums (but they still can’t guarantee you’ll be able to get close enough to the Mona Lisa to get a half-decent pic).

A top-tier three-month 1st class pass drops from AU$2,149 to AU$1,719.20 – that’s enough savings for 17 Aperol Spritzes (just) and a guilt-free pistachio binge in Sicily.

Plus, seniors and youth score extra discounts, and you have 11 months to activate your pass – perfect for commitment-phobes or the ‘I’m just gonna wait ‘til the flights drop a bit’-ers.

In other words, ditch the summer scramble. Take the train. Save some coin. And remember that sunshine in Europe doesn’t magically vanish after August. You can thank us later.

Fountain of Brewth

I’m standing in the middle of a Slovenian town, holding a sleek little glass with a microchip in it, and I’ve just poured myself a beer, from a fountain.

Let me repeat that slowly for those at the back still sipping lukewarm lager from a can: A beer fountain. In a public park. Flowing not with water, but with glorious, hoppy, golden nectar straight from the taps of local Slovenian breweries. Žalec, you beautiful, boozy genius.

Why every town on Earth hasn’t adopted this idea is beyond me. Libraries? Nice. Museums? Great. But a communal beer-dispensing installation in the local park? Now that’s culture.

They call it the Green Gold Beer Fountain, which sounds like something a leprechaun might bathe in, but it’s actually a tribute to the hops that grow in abundance in this region. The Styrian region of Slovenia has been growing hops since the Middle Ages, and Žalec, the self-proclaimed hop capital, thought: “You know what this history needs? A public drinking installation.”

You pay a few euros for this specially designed glass with a built-in chip (because it’s 2025 and even your pint glass is smarter than you), and you get six pours of different local brews straight from the futuristic beer taps poking out of polished steel columns. It’s like a high-tech pagan shrine dedicated to lager. I bow.

First pour: a crisp pilsner that makes my tastebuds do a little jig. Second: a punchy IPA that drops a hop bomb bigger than David Hasslehoff! I’m only two drinks in and already questioning everything I know about urban planning (in all honesty I don’t know much). Why do we have public fountains spitting out chlorinated water when they could be gently burping out craft beer instead?

The locals stroll past like this is the most normal thing in the world. There’s a pensioner reading a newspaper on a bench while a couple in matching Lycra refill their glasses post-bike ride. A man walks his dog with one hand and pulls a lager with the other.

“Respect!” I say, raising my glass to cheers him.  He gives me a look as if to say “another overexcited tourist.”

Of course, I try them all. One beer has hints of caramel and smoke. Another is so light and citrusy I swear I hear tropical birds chirping in my ears. This isn’t just a gimmick, it’s seriously good beer. By my fourth pour, I’m contemplating buying real estate in Žalec. By the fifth, I’ve decided to start a grassroots movement to install beer fountains in every city back home. Imagine knocking off work on a Friday, strolling into the city square, tapping your glass to a gleaming steel column, and pouring a fresh lager straight into your soul. Heaven. Urban bliss. Social cohesion, one pour at a time.

By my sixth (and tragically final) beer, I’m genuinely emotional. I mean, sure, Paris has the Eiffel Tower, Sydney has the Opera House, and New York has almost everything (I love New York), but Žalec? Žalec has a beer fountain, and frankly, it wins. Every town deserves this. Every town needs this. Forget potholes and traffic congestion—give the people what they want: beer on tap in the heart of the city. A place to gather, to taste, to toast, and to tell your mates, “You’ll never believe what I found in Slovenia…”

And then, with a sly grin and a clink of your chipped-glass goblet, you tell them: “It was a beer fountain.”

Explore the London Tunnels underground network

Deep beneath the streets of London lies a vast warren of tunnels that have seen more drama than a West End soap opera. Originally built during World War II as air-raid shelters, because getting bombed from above was very inconvenient, these tunnels quickly pivoted into something far more James Bond-esque.

They became the HQ for the Special Operations Executive, the ultra-secret wartime group responsible for all sorts of sneaky espionage. Later, the tunnels were used as a Cold War telephone exchange, featuring a direct hotline between the White House and the Kremlin; nothing says “world peace” like a little subterranean chit-chat.

Now, after decades of being forgotten like an old pair of socks behind the sofa, these tunnels are finally getting their glow-up. Soon, they’ll be transformed into London’s newest must-see attraction, complete with immersive historical exhibits, high-tech digital experiences, and – wait for it – an underground bar. C’mon, who doesn’t want to learn about history and sip a cocktail at the same time? Especially when it’s 30 metres below street level.

This attraction is the perfect chance to explore a part of London that’s been off-limits for years, and let’s be honest – who doesn’t want to feel like a spy creeping through secret tunnels?

So, whether you’re a history buff, a thrill-seeker, or just someone who likes their drinks served in ridiculously cool locations, the London Tunnels are about to become the place to be…in 2028.