Melbourne

Strolling through Melbourne's Royal Botanic Gardens Victoria feels a bit like wandering into Mother Nature's meticulously curated Instagram page, if she had one-and given the brilliantly landscaped stretches of rare plants and exotic greenery, it wouldn't surprise anyone if she's secretly amassing followers right here in the leafy heart of South Yarra. Founded way back in 1846, these lush expanses are practically prehistoric by Aussie standards, yet they've aged gracefully-think Helen Mirren meets David Attenborough in botanical form. To dodge selfie-toting influencers and enthusiastic birdwatchers alike, swing by early morning; not obscenely early, mind you, but just before the brunch crowd spills in from trendy Chapel Street cafes wielding $13 avocado toasts. Bring a blanket, some decent cheese, and maybe smuggle in a wine bottle discreetly-budget around $0 (because entry is delightfully free), though your Instagram envy of posh joggers and picnickers might motivate impulse purchases. Sure, it's "just plants," but walking these peaceful paths, appreciating specimens scoured from corners of the globe, will breathe sweet oxygen into your gritty urban lungs-and truthfully, it's well worth it just to boast later about having a sophisticated afternoon, even if you secretly spent it napping beneath a eucalyptus tree.

You haven't truly understood the rugged, oft-overlooked charm of Australia's southern wilderness until you've hauled yourself up the sandstone cliffs of The Grampians National Park-a delightfully chaotic fusion of jagged peaks, wildflower-strewn valleys, and rock shelters etched with Aboriginal artwork older than the pyramids. Time it right and drag yourself up at dawn (trust me, sunrise here is worth swapping your first-born coffee for)-but please, for the sake of dignity and ankle bones, leave the flip-flops at home and pack sturdy boots, a hat, and a humorously oversized water bottle. Budget-wise, it'll only cost you a moderate tank of petrol, a modest lodge or campsite fee, and perhaps a bribe to convince your hiking partner it's "an easy climb, really." Besides, you won't need months of obsessive planning-whimsy and spontaneity are key ingredients here. Go ahead, surrender yourself to this rugged cluster of ancient ridges and painted rock walls. Even if your calves punish you for days afterward, you'll limp away with the ultimate Aussie bush story-and priceless bragging rights at your next dinner party.

Ah, the Twelve Apostles-Victoria's most famous collection of geological impostors, since there never were twelve (spoiler alert: there's currently eight, but who's counting?). Rising dramatically from the surf like nature's own majestic middle fingers, these towering limestone stacks have been sculpted by wind, weather, and time-much like Keith Richards-and sit smugly photogenic near the sleepy coastal town of Port Campbell. Arrive at sunrise or sunset, ideally with a flask of coffee or something stronger tucked discreetly into your coat; trust me, the golden-hour lighting here is the stuff of Instagram dreams and existential contemplation. For practical purposes, aim to get there early or brace yourself for throngs of selfie stick-wielding tourists around midday. Plan your visit a few days ahead, especially if you're road-tripping the Great Ocean Road. Entry's gloriously free, but budget a cheeky twenty bucks for fish and chips at nearby Port Campbell-it's only polite. Weather-wise, pack layers and prepare for moody, melodramatic skies; Victoria's coast has a habit of delivering all four seasons within the same hour. Ultimately, witnessing these stubborn towers stand defiantly against the relentless waves-even as nature slowly claims them one by one-isn't just worth it for the obligatory bucket-list tick, but because someday you'll lean across a bar somewhere and casually say, "Oh, yeah, I saw them when there were still eight."

If you've ever had the urge to see what would happen if Monopoly houses threw a wild costume party or stumbled into Wes Anderson's vacation home fantasy, Brighton's colorful bathing boxes are your ticket to whimsy. Standing like candy-colored sentinels along Brighton Beach-less than half an hour from Melbourne-they've been iconic since Victorian-era prudery dictated one's ankles remain tastefully hidden. Originally built for modest bathers in a time when flashing an elbow equated moral decay, these postcard-worthy cabins now primarily serve as charming backdrop fodder for countless Instagrammers and travelers hoping to inject a splash of vibrant nostalgia into their feed. Aim for early morning or golden-hour sunset to dodge the selfie-stick-wielding hordes; budget nothing beyond a train ticket, sunscreen, and perhaps a cheeky can of Victoria Bitter to discreetly sip as you ponder life's mysteries. Plan ahead (weekdays beat weekends for crowd avoidance) and don't forget sunglasses to boost your cool factor as you pose like a slightly bemused extra in your own Wes-inspired indie flick. Even if you're skeptical about the hype, visiting Brighton's rainbow of wooden huts offers a unique snapshot of quintessentially quirky Australian beach culture and makes for an entertaining anecdote about how you once crossed half the globe to gaze lovingly at glorified storage sheds.