A country in miniature, Portugal

Bored with all that pesky sightseeing, those endless historical monuments, the dull drag of yet another rococo cathedral altar? Instead, see the entire country – and more – in one surreal morning at Portugal do Pequenitos (Portugal of the Little Ones) in Coimbra, a miniature monument to a once-great, still-beautiful country. Built in the 1940s as a paean to Portugal even as its empire was escaping its dictatorish clutches, today visitors stroll, Gulliver-like, past all the country’s most famous monumental buildings, plus shrunken examples of its regional architecture. See Brazil, Macau, Lusophone Africa, East Timor and even India in less than half an hour.

Visit the Azores (marooned in their ornamental, Atlantic-lite lakes) and Madeira on your way to the miniature dress collection and model Naval Museum. This model universe was conceived to be worthy, earnest and instructive but today seems camp and wry. When all this carefully crafted minituarisation starts to make you feel feverish, go to Portugal’s biggest (OK, only) Barbie Museum, the only part of the park where anything is full-size.
• Adult €9.50, child (3-13) €5.95, family ticket (2 adults, 2 children €25.95), Rossio de Santa Clara 3040-256, Coimbra, portugaldospequenitos.pt
Kevin Gould

One man’s cathedral masterpiece, Spain

In the quiet town of Mejorada del Campo, 25 minutes from Madrid, local man Justo Gallego is on a mission from God. The 90-year-old is erecting a cathedral; all by himself. When dangerously ill with tuberculosis in 1961, he promised the Virgin that if she saved him, he’d raise a cathedral as thanks. Five decades later and his wobbly masterpiece, built using scavenged materials, is almost complete. With teetering towers, lumpy cement and handmade stained glass, the construction looks part-Gaudí, part papier-mache. But this church – a fusion of Spain’s Catholic roots and its renegade surrealist spirit – is the real deal. It’s got an apse, a transept, three cloisters, a crypt, and the dome is inspired by St Peter’s. On a given day you’ll find Justo on the roof laying tiles, hanging from a pillar, or chatting to dumbstruck visitors who trickle in. Entrance is free; a donation is appreciated.
• To get to Mejorada del Campo, catch the 341 bus from Madrid’s Conde de Casal bus terminal
James Blick

A tropical island, Germany

Berliners are hardly short of swimming spots. The city is full of municipal pools (indoor and out), and the surrounding region, Brandenburg, is full of lakes with sandy picnic spots that locals and visitors flock to in summer. One place stands apart from all these though: Tropical Islands. It is around 60km south of the German capital: ie in the heart of northern Europe, and the name suggests a tongue-in-cheek incongruity. Sure enough, there is a sense of Disney-esque surrealism as you enter this enormous former zeppelin hangar – the size of nine football pitches – and find yourself face to face with a self-contained universe of palm trees, flamingos and exotic birds, beaches, makeshift pirate ships and hot air balloons. The vast interior features water slides and “sunbed” areas (temperatures are kept around 26C), Balinese pavilions, an extensive spa area and gift shops selling the requisite kitsch.

This being former East Germany, there is the inevitable nudist area, too. The quirky side of things is really revealed when the mask slips slightly: the food stalls hawking bratwurst and beer, the patrons with deep bronze tans as authentic as the surroundings, the distinct lack of “tropical” smiles offered by the mostly stern-faced German staff. Yet the resort is so popular that a whole new outside area of pools and slides has just been added; and if you want to stay overnight in one of the tents or chalets, you’ll have to book quite far ahead.
• Tropical-Islands-Allee 1, 15910 Krausnick, tropical-islands.de
Paul Sullivan

Swimming in beer, Austria

With Austria’s love of “wellness” spas matched only by its residents love of a refreshing cold beer, installing beer swimming pools in the cellar of a 200-year-old brewery seems like an obvious move. In a forest in the mountain village of Tarrenz, 65km west of Innsbruck, the Starkenberger brewery says its swimming pools filled with about 42,000 pints of freshly brewed beer are the only pools of their kind in the world. A bathe in one of the huge former fermenting vats is meant to be great for the skin, although the beer – warmed to 32C – is not designed for sipping. This being an Austrian brewery, however, the drinkable version is also provided.

Visitors have to pre-book to use the pools, which cost €250 a vat to rent. It may seem pricey but the brewery only takes bookings for a minimum of four people and the larger the group, the cheaper it is per person. As well as being home to the ancient brewery and beer museum, both in a 700-year-old castle, Tarrenz is a popular spot in the picturesque Tirolean mountains for outdoor activities, with plenty of places to go hiking, cycling and climbing.
• Rental €250 a vat, Griesegg 1, Tarrenz, starkenberger.at
Maddy French

A paper Google, Belgium

Belgium has a selection of weird little museums but the Mundaneum is maybe the strangest. It’s in a former department store in Mons and contains a vast collection of newspapers, index cards, posters, tickets, catalogues and programmes. The collection was begun in the early 20th century by the Belgian lawyer and pacifist Paul Otlet, who aimed to gather together all the world’s knowledge in a single collection, called the Mundaneum. As well as filling several buildings with anything he could find, Otlet created the standard index card to impose order and invented a telescope so people could access documents remotely. But the project ran into financial problems and the collection ended up dumped in a Brussels car park. It was almost destroyed, but in 1998 the flamboyant Mons mayor Elio di Rupo saved the collection, which was rehoused in a stunning museum and, with funding from Google, rebranded as the world’s first internet.
• Adult €6, concessions €4. Open 1pm-5pm Tues-Fri , 11am-6pm weekends, 76 rue de Nimy, Mons, mundaneum.org
Derek Blyth

The Nose Academy, Sweden

You won’t find this peculiar museum in every Swedish guidebook, but the Nasoteket (Nose Academy) is well preserved within the walls of one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in the world, Lund University, in southern Sweden. The collection, which is in the Museum of Student Life, includes over 130 plaster casts dedicated to this facial feature. The “noses” are displayed with mirrors so their side profiles, as well as straight-on looks, can be seen.

Admire the plaster hooters of various prominent Scandinavians: historic and modern day personalities such as the silver nose of Tycho Brahe, a 17th-century Danish astronomer, astrologer and alchemist. Other notable noses include 18th-century botanist Carl Linnaeus, Sweden’s first astronaut Christer Fuglesang, and its first female archbishop, Antje Jackelén. The collection is managed by the nasal committee, which also reviews academic works published in relation to this human anatomy. There is also an “Unknown Nose” monument in honour of the common man – all of us – whose noses may never be immortalised in the museum.
• plastercastcollection.org
Lola Akinmade Åkerström

Brno’s penis statues, Czech Republic

Czech sculptor David Černý’s rotating Kafka head has been dazzling Prague tourists since its 2014 unveiling, and deservedly so: its fragmented metal parts brilliantly rippling to form the writer’s giant skull. Over in Brno, the Czech Republic’s second city, it’s another statue that’s causing the stir. Jaroslav Róna’s Bravery appears like your bog-standard, equestrian centrepiece. But stand beneath and glance upwards and you’ll be treated to a rather different image: a giant penis and balls. And this isn’t the only sexualised artwork in the city centre. In Freedom Square lies Brno’s answer to Prague’s resplendent Astronomical Clock. Is it equally ornate, or composed of hourly-encircling disciples? No. It looks like a giant vibrator. The clock, which is not in fact astronomical as claimed, is still a great curiosity. At 11am each day, a marble is released in one of its four apertures, a quirky souvenir for the lucky one who catches it.
Mark Pickering

Tedfest, Ireland

For the past 12 years, at the end of winter, up to 350 people have gathered for four days on the isolated Aran Island of Inishmore, 10 miles out to sea in Galway Bay. They come not to marvel at the barren and bleakly beautiful landscapes, the elaborately constructed dry stone walls, or even the astonishing semi-circular prehistoric fort of Dún Aonghasa, perched on a 300ft-high sheer cliff. These travellers come to dress up as priests, nuns, bishops, housekeepers, Elvis impersonators, milkmen, hairy babies, bricks and giant rabbits – and to celebrate the anarchic genius of cult 90s television series Father Ted. Tedfest allows revellers, known affectionately as TedHeads, “to live the Craggy Island dream” through a series of wonderfully surreal events, ranging from the “Lovely Girls Contest” to “Ted’s Got Talent”, a “Priest Dance-off” and the late-night “Hide a Nun and Seek”. It’s like a cross between a giant, drunken, escapist fancy dress party; a subversive social protest; and, according to energetic Welsh organiser Peter Phillips, “Lord of the Flies on craic.”
• Tickets €150pp, 23-26 February 2017, tedfest.org
Philip Watson

The Postman’s Palace, the Drôme, France

The Palais Idéal du Facteur Cheval must be France’s most bizarre listed monument. In April 1879, Ferdinand Cheval, the local postman in Hauterives, south-east France, was doing his rounds when he stumbled on a small stone. The strangely-shaped object inspired him to begin building an outlandish 12-metre-high palace, in his garden, which he finished 33 years later. The palais is a manic fusion of biblical characters, animal gatherings, Egyptian tombs, stucco arches, grottos, fairies, fountains, popular sayings and classical columns. One facade is guarded by three gangly giants, Caesar, Archimedes and the Gallic chief Vercingetorix. Cheval, who greatly inspired the surrealists, had no artistic or architectural training and brought the stones to the site in a wheelbarrow. French culture minister, André Malraux listed the building in 1969 as the “only example of naive architecture in the world’. The palace is open to visitors every day and hosts concerts and art exhibitions.
• Adult €6.50, child €5, Palais Idéal du Facteur Cheval, 8, rue du Palais, 26390 Hauterives, Drôme, facteurcheval.com
Jon Bryant

Europe’s most cursed town, Italy

Italians are big on superstition but their obsession reaches a climax in Colobraro, a tiny town in deep Basilicata, 100km from Matera. Despite the breathtaking views, Colobraro has a reputation for being the most cursed town across the boot … and in Europe. The name, from Coluber – which means serpent in Latin – had always evoked unease but the curse originates in the 1960s when a lawyer, dubbed “the unmentionable”, said in court: “If what I say is false, may this chandelier come down.” And it did, prompting locals to think it was a jinx. From then on locals simply referred to Colobraro as “that town”, fearing that naming it will bring iella (bad luck).

There are stories of buses crashing against balconies, legends of babies born with two hearts, while the police refuse to fine bad drivers for fear of the curse. Recently however, the mayor of the town has decided to turn the curse into a blessing – and a moneymaking venture – with the launch of a festival with the slogan: “Dream of a night … at that town.” Actors dressed as demons, corpses and grave-diggers accompany you through a maze of winding alleys stopping at open-air performances where the jinx is personified by Hamlet’s ghost. Shops sell amulets, chilli pepper necklaces, red bull horns (to keep the devil at bay) and abitini, herb-filled cloth bags that visitors must tie to their necks. Once you leave, organisers swear you’ll be immune to the curse.
• Admission €2.50, which includes an abitino amulet necklace that all visitors must wear around their neck; 6pm-11pm Tuesdays and Fridays throughout August; colobraro.eu
Silvia Marchetti