Recipefiesta

I brought my children to Penang to immerse them in the places of their grandparents’ stories. When I stopped lecturing them about gratitude and privilege, we enjoyed our final days doing as locals do

As I stepped out of Penang international airport, the humidity hit me like I was peering into a just-opened rice cooker. The air carried whiffs of exhaust fumes, fried food and something earthy. It felt thrilling and familiar because I was born in Penang and lived there for six years before I moved to Australia. I looked back at my three children who were visiting for the first time. They were draped over their suitcases like wilted lettuce. “Welcome to Penang,” I said, wiping sweat off my brow.

It was July 2026. It had been 13 years since I last visited Penang, when my father had hosted a lavish wedding dinner featuring a champagne fountain and swan-shaped ice sculpture for me and my new husband. For my white, Australian husband, it was a trip of firsts: his first Chinese tea ceremony; his first 10-course banquet; the first time he met my extended family. But for me, it had been the last time I’d spoken Mandarin and the last time I had seen my grandmother before she died.

From a cosy Cornish inn with open fires to a boutique hotel in Northumberland, these new and revamped boltholes tick all the right boxes

With autumn officially here, our readers savour days of fruitful mellowness, from Cornwall to Loch Lomond

• Tell us about a great wellness experience – the best tip wins a £200 holiday voucher

I love Loch Lomond in autumn. I’d start with a walk around Balmaha village and a stretch of the West Highland Way, pretending I’m there for the scenery rather than earning the right to eat something massive afterwards. Autumn is when it looks best: orange hills, cold air, dramatic clouds and the constant Scottish gamble of whether you’ll get sunshine, sideways rain, or both within 10 minutes. I finish, if I’m not driving, with a wee dram to properly round things off.
Pete

Under the Finnish capital lies a world of swimming pools, go-karting tracks, playgrounds – and even an art gallery

The moon is an impostor. Swimming backstroke beneath its surface, I look up at craggy hollows in close relief. White rock undulates in all directions, a forest of peaks rising next to a desert of craters. Every time I trick myself into thinking I’m somewhere celestial, the sound of children splashing brings me back to earth.

This is no lunar landscape but Helsinki’s underground swimming hall, excavated from granite bedrock and officially opened in 1993. These days, Itäkeskus uimahalli is one of the Finnish capital’s most visited leisure facilities, welcoming 400,000 people a year. Local people mingle with tourists, I will discover, during a week exploring Helsinki’s subterranean metropolis.

The Tweed region is easily as beautiful as nearby Byron, but without the glamour and crowds. For locals, the biggest drawcard is the community

Locals in the Tweed region already knew we were a bit special, obviously. The sheer beauty of the place routinely stops you in your tracks. It turns out we are also having a moment on the world stage. Along with the Red Centre in the Northern Territory, the Tweed is one of only two Australian destinations named in Lonely Planet’s Best in Travel 2027, the travel publication’s annual list of 50 standout holiday spots and experiences, announced on Wednesday.

Now those who came here to escape the world may find it is coming to them.

A long-distance walking route in the south of France devised by the celebrated land artist offers intrepid hikers an opportunity to immerse themselves in nature and art

At 69, I had never hiked with a backpack and I had no idea what land art was. Nonetheless, when my friend Jackie, a nature documentary film-maker, invited me to join her and her friends Wendy and Sasha on a hiking trip to Refuges d’Art in the mountainous countryside of Haute-Provence, I said a resounding “yes”. We would be sleeping alongside sculptures by the renowned land artist Andy Goldsworthy.

First, I watch Rivers and Tides, a documentary on Goldsworthy’s work, and discover he has built exquisite ice sculptures and stone cairns in my own country, Canada. His work seems to speak to an older part of the soul. Then, I start walking up hills, gradually adding weights to my backpack until I can comfortably carry 9kg (20lb).

The Alpe Adria loop is an eight-day walking trail that crisscrosses borders, taking in dramatic peaks, glorious meadows and charming places to stay

‘Achtung! Staatsgrenze!” OK, the signpost marking the “state border” didn’t have exclamation marks but, with its no-nonsense Prussian font, it did feel quite shouty. The only thing was, no one on the Feistritzer Alm – a peaceful sweep of Alpine pasture at the meeting of Austria and Italy – was paying any attention to it at all.

Hikers hiked straight past. Mountain bikers used it to prop up their cycles. Cows grazed willy-nilly. And the patrons of the Schutzhütte Oisternig enjoyed their cold beers regardless of which country they were in. While official boundaries may have changed in these parts over the centuries, the magnificence of the mountains has not.