Some Australian cities – Hobart, Melbourne, Adelaide – make it so easy to fall in love with them. Others… well, others make you work a little harder to uncover their charms.

Until recently, all I really knew of Newcastle, a coastal city in New South Wales around 150 kilometres north of Sydney, was that it holds the title of Australia’s biggest coal port. I’d seen the footage of courageous climate protestors in kayaks, blockading the harbour and preventing the movements of the 250-metre-long bulk carriers that head out into the Tasman Sea, carrying coal to China, Japan, and elsewhere in Australia.

We have started a lovely tradition in our family of taking it in turns to spend a weekend of the school holidays in a new city with DorkySon. He and DorkyDad went to Canberra; he and I went to Adelaide; and then he and DorkyDad went to Melbourne. Last weekend, he and I went to Newcastle. Or Newy, as I now know the locals refer to it.

I had wondered how prominent the heavy industries would be. The road in to Newcastle from the airport on Friday afternoon provided a quick and easy answer – very. We passed huge bulk carriers, coal conveyor belts and storage silos, production facilities for explosives and plastics and fertilisers. As our cab made its way along Hunter Street to our hotel in the East End, passing what felt like literally hundreds of shuttered shopfronts and empty buildings, DorkySon and I exchanged glances. What had we let ourselves in for?

We had booked into a twin room at the QT, and while it was a little cosy for two people who love their own space, it turned out to be fine. Once we had worked out the terrifyingly confusing light switches, reconfigured the sliding doors around the bathroom so that the bath didn’t open directly on the bedroom, and established that there was hot chocolate available on the room service menu, things felt like they were looking up.

That night, we walked along Hunter Street in a soft, warm rain shower for a quick dinner at Antojitos – a Mexican street food joint that had been recommended by a friend. It was delicious, but also the fastest service I’ve ever received in my life. We had a booking for 6pm, and by 6.15pm we were walking back to the hotel again having eaten three tacos each.

After testing out that room service hot chocolate – very good, according to DorkySon – and watching an episode of 8 out of 10 Cats does Countdown on the gigantic TV, we tucked in for the night and hoped for a good sleep to set us up for our first full day in Newy.

Unfortunately, the guests in the room next door had other ideas. Barging into their room around midnight, I suspect after a lengthy session at the QT’s renowned rooftop bar, they turned the music up full and starting whooping and waltzing, punctuating the tunes with plenty of hysterical laughter.

We gave it half an hour to see if they would settle down. And when they didn’t, I placed a slightly groggy call to reception, asking if they could do a polite door knock, and assuming that would be the end of it.

Friends, that was not the end of it.

If I got doorknocked in a hotel for disturbing other guests, I would be MORTIFIED. I would slide an apology note under every door in the corridor and then skulk around in a balaclava for the rest of my stay, hoping no-one would recognise me.

Not these girls. Outraged that we weren’t having as much drunken fun as we were, they waited a few minutes to make sure the night duty manager was back downstairs and then turned the music up, banged on the wall a few times, and made loud, pointed comments about how they were just TALKING and they couldn’t understand why anyone would have a problem with them JUST TALKING but they hoped the people next door were enjoying hearing them JUST TALKING…

Far out.

We decided that rather than call it down again and risk a full-blown escalation, we would just wait it out and trust that they would eventually pass out in a prosecco-fuelled stupor. Which they did. And the following morning we were able to confirm with reception that they’d be checking out that day, so there was no need for a room change.

After such a disturbed night, I was in desperate need of a coffee, so we strolled along Hunter Street to East End Hub – the café that became our go-to spot for the next few days – and had an excellent breakfast. The plan for Saturday morning was a trip to Fighter World – an RAAF aviation museum that was our main reason for visiting Newcastle – but as it didn’t open until 10am and we had been up and out of the room by 6.30am, we had plenty of time for a walk.

Bathers Way is a 6km walk along the Newcastle coastline, from Nobby’s Lighhouse at the northern end to Mereweather Ocean Baths in the south, taking in several beaches, a skate park, lots of scenic lookouts, and an Anzac memorial walkway en route. Our breakfast café was closer to the northern end, so we walked in that direction and enjoyed the coastal views, before looping back along the harbourfront and into the city.

Much like Glenelg in Adelaide, it was clear that this beachside area was the place to be on a weekend morning, with heaps of dog walkers, runners and cyclists, beach yoga enthusiasts, and junior surf clubs busy on the sand.

Back at the hotel, it was time to grab a cab out to Fighter World, which is very close to Newcastle Airport (the commercial airport and RAAF Williamtown actually share a runway). We were very lucky to end up with a driver who didn’t just give us an enthusiastic rundown of the area’s history and attractions, but was willing to wait for us in the Fighter World carpark while we took our time looking around, before driving us back into town. Thanks Jason!

(Gotta be honest, military museums are not really my thing, so if you’re keen to read about that head on over to The Hobart Aviation Fan instead.)

We were back in the city by midday and decided to play it safe by heading back to East End Hub for lunch, where DorkySon tried barramundi for the first time and gave it an enthusiastic thumbs up. By this stage it was getting quite hot, so we sought out the aircon at Newcastle Museum – home to a really thoughtful and well curated collection of local artefacts and exhibits – before buying ice creams and seeking out a shady tree where we could sit and watch the bulk carriers slip by in the harbour. (Thanks to DorkySon for letting me use his photo below.)

We’d had a decent day, but by this stage I will confess that we were beginning to wonder how we’d fill a second full day in Newcastle. I think we had both imagined that Fighter World would warrant more than a 40-minute visit – and on a weekday when there would have been plenty of RAAF activity to watch from the spotting deck that would probably have been the case.

I reckon if we’d known that there was no military flight activity (and very little commercial, too!) on weekends, we might have adjusted the trip by a day to incorporate either a full Friday or a full Monday. Definitely something we will check in future for other holidays planned around planespotting.

We had a wild and crazy Saturday night eating dinner in the hotel restaurant before turning the lights out at 9pm – compensating for the previous night of unsleep – and deciding that we’d go back to East End Hub for Sunday breakfast, before seeing where the day led us.

It led us back onto Bathers Way, this time heading south. Sunday looked set to be another scorcher, so we were happy to be out and walking by 7.30, up some decent little hills that again offered some beautiful coastal views, and later some inland views across Newcastle’s southern suburbs.

We didn’t quite make it all the way down to the Ocean Baths, as Mereweather Beach was absolutely littered with bluebottles (known to my northern hemisphere friends as Portuguese man o’war jellyfish) and while the hardy locals may have been unfazed, continuing to bop along the beach barefoot and send their nippers into the water, these cold climate visitors were less keen. We dipped our feet in the water once, very quickly, just to say we had, then rinsed off, chugged our water bottles, and headed back into the city again, taking just a few minutes on the Anzac Memorial walkway to track down a Dawkins and a Cameron on the list of local soldiers.

By 9am, it really was getting hot, so we stopped at a kiosk for cups of icy watermelon juice, took a quick detour to check out the remnants of the old Newcastle Street Circuit that used to host Supercars events (we found a red and white striped curb!), and popped into the Newcastle Visitor Centre in an unsuccessful hunt for a souvenir to bring home for DorkyDad.

After a final lunch (guess where? East End Hub!), we agreed that we probably didn’t have the energy to attempt another out-of-town trip, so the koalas of Blackbutt Reserve would have to wait for next time.

(They may be waiting a while.)

After that, DorkySon chilled out in the hotel room for a few hours, while I investigated the old railway station that is now home to an assortment of small shops, including Make Space Gallery and Betty Loves Books. Remarkably, I visited two bookshops in Newcastle and bought NOTHING, so clearly, I am getting more restrained in my old age…

Our final meal in Newy was at Napoli Centrale, a friendly, casual spot where we both tucked into hearty portions of pasta, before popping across the road to Popolo Gelateria and picking up an ice cream for the road. (The road being the five-minute walk back to the hotel.)

Overall, our three nights in Newcastle was a fun way to finish the school holidays. The best thing about the city was how friendly the people were – from shops and restaurants to cab drivers and museums, everyone we encountered was lovely. I also reckon it could be a fun place for a solo trip as an adult – there’s loads of street art, which would make for some good photos if you were keen; and I suspect there are whole precincts full of small galleries and cafes that we didn’t make it to.

But for a family trip – whether with teens or toddlers – I think you would probably benefit from hiring a car so you could visit some of the nearby reserves, wetlands, and other attractions without having to rely on cabs or public transport. Unlike the other cities we have visited in Australia, there aren’t really enough activities in the city centre to fill more than a few days.

I also reckon if we visited again, we would aim for an apartment rather than a hotel to give us a bit more space and privacy, and the option to eat in as well as out.

It’s always nice to get home after a trip away, but this time especially so. Hugs from DorkyDad, excited tail wags from DorkyDog and our own lovely, quiet bedrooms. Bliss.