IF HOLDEN Caulfield were to watch an Australian travel show, he would feel compelled to concede defeat in the fight against phoney and retire to a life in a shack deep within the Himalayas. He might even find contentment, until a toothy reporter and camera crew turned up to expose to the world what used to be his ''hidden gem''.
Getaway has the bitter-sweet distinction of being Australia's longest-running travel show. It recently moved from Thursday night to Saturday afternoon, where it had its duration cut in half.
Catriona Rowntree has been with Getaway since before carry-on tweezers were a threat to national security. Early in her career, any location within one time zone of a beach was excuse enough to get her in a bikini. She's spent so much time at resorts, the only umbrellas she sees come in cocktails. But today, Rowntree is the dependable matriarch, clad in jumper and jeans and enjoying first pick of the cushiest gigs. Her tenure on the show has made her synonymous with unattainable luxury, in effect making hers the face of fantasy.
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Getaway's irrepressible Catriona Rowntree. Therein lies the allure. Getaway is not designed to help you plan an escape; it is simply escapism. Correspondents present artificial, sanitised jet-setting; travel without queues or cockroaches. The glossy packages have a transporting effect and hint that your personal drudgery is not necessarily permanent. Getaway is a cashed-up bogan's bucket list.
One bizarre nod to reality is the outdated ritual of reading the price of flights from each capital city. Its only function seems to be confirming that most of the world is hundreds of dollars further away from Perth.
Over at Postcards, where the focus is on vacations in Victoria, the presenters are notionally closer but remain emotionally distant. Shane Crawford looks palpably relieved to make it through a piece to camera without flubbing. At a ski lodge for a Canada special, he told a French waitress serving delicacies that, him being Aussie, what the situation demanded was meat pies and sausage rolls. The cultural cringe was so severe it gave me whiplash.
Postcards is ''made possible by'' Visit Victoria and the government agency hosts the show's website. It's no surprise, given the program's relentlessly upbeat approach. Postcards could spin a visit to the Dandenong Magistrates Court as ''a pleasant day trip to a vibrant hub, filled with colourful characters and even more colourful fashion'', with the security pat-down described cheerily as a ''free full-body massage''!
Try as I might, I just can't get my head around Coxy. Geoff Cox from Coxy's Big Break is an amorphous, loveable ham with a Midas touch for local tourism. If your business is fortunate enough to be featured on his show, you can expect the Coxy bump. Like Kylie Minogue's bottom, Coxy's moustache is said to be insured for millions of dollars.
Coxy and his colleagues, more than others, invest themselves and get involved in activities. They specialise in cheesy vignettes where local shop owners are required to play-act in ludicrous scenarios. It is TV from a simpler time and Coxy has built an empire by eschewing irony.
A lot of people think they could present a travel show, if only someone gave them a chance. But what many fail to realise is that it's surprisingly difficult to not be irritating.
If you're an Australian who would like a job presenting travel, first try to win at least a Commonwealth bronze. Dating someone who can kick a football might also help.
While these presenters have been all over the world, you wouldn't exactly call them worldly.
Sprinkled throughout the shows are invitations to ''register now'' for ''exciting promotions'' and ''your chance to win'' a ''trip of a lifetime'' with ''buffet breakfast and wine on arrival''.
If the blatant commercial offers prove anything, it is that these shows are not about travel, they are about tourism. The reliance on the co-operation of businesses underlines these programs are motivated more by economics than experience. This doesn't allow for authenticity.
It's fun to see somewhere you've been, intend to go or perhaps never heard of showcased on television. The professional crew and their equipment are better able to bring the world to life than a shaky pensioner with a handycam. Like dreams themselves, these shows are a valuable and necessary diversion.
But for a country as large and isolated as Australia, with a unique international perspective, mobile population and strong dollar, you might think there is room for adventurous travel TV. Who knows, maybe the first episode could find hidden gems in the Himalayas.
Daniel Burt is a Melbourne-based writer and comedian. Follow him on Twitter: @trubnad
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