'I love it here. I just love it here.' I hear myself repeating my words, as the warm night breeze blows my hair. I could be on a beach, in a little ranty shack in Brazil. Or anywhere that oozes eclectic, eccentric, ramshackle. But no, I'm in Adelaide. Grenfell Street, Adelaide. Little Miss Mexico.

I'd heard about it for ages, and have never been. Mainly because I haven't been out in town for ages. Having two small children does that. And it wasn't til I asked a mate about where to go, and he says 'come here, no age bias, chilled tunes and great atmosphere' I get there. The description is not wrong. There's turtles in a tank. Fairy light tangled crates as lighting. Rickety makeshift bars. Old lounges. Uneven concrete. Galvanised island. Painted murals.

Having walked the breadth of Adelaide CBD from Benjamin on Franklin, I feel worlds apart. I've come from old world charm - muskiness stained in the sagging leather seating of the Library dining room, slick coffee cocktails and mirrored walls, to having margaritas in recycled jars and sangria by the bottle in an alley.

I feel like I'm on holiday. Gingers Cafe on Goodwood Road for lunch, surrounded by all the cool people. Checking into a two bedroom apartment at Mantra on Frome Road. Swirling wine in Benjamin on Franklin charm, and now chilling out with good vibes and relaxed crowd at Little Miss Mexico.

Do I have to go home tomorrow? Not before breakky at Colins and Co on King William Road.