Up until very recently, the only thing I thought I knew about Tasmania (other than that Tasmanian devils were real, but nothing like what Warner Brothers would have us believe), was that there was a weird museum of modern art there where you were apparently expected to go in the nude.

Well, I was partially right, at least. I traced my misapprehension to an article in Smithsonian Magazine from twelve years ago, titled “Nudity, Art, Sex and Death“. The main place I was off was that, while there were in fact no-clothes tours, they were optional evening events, and that most people visited during the daytime, with all their clothes on.

Which, just to be clear, was the route I was more comfortable with.

Not that MONA, the Museum of Old and New Art, is particularly interested in catering to your comfort level. The theme seems to be more along the lines of “Let’s get uncomfortable together, shall we?” Mind you, everyone at the museum was delightfully cheerful and seemed genuinely interested in making sure I was having an enlightening and thought-provoking visit. But it’s not like they don’t warn you.

Case in point: the exhibit entitled “Cloaca” is a suspended series of glass jars with pumps and transparent tubing running between them. The sign announces “Feeding time: 3:15” – it takes a lot of imagination to avoid thinking about what it does.

To be clear, the discomforts are intended to be purely conceptual. On the physical front, you can get as pampered as your bougie heart desires. The high-speed catamaran that takes you out to the museum goes for a deliberate mix of Fantasy Island and Mad Max, but allows you to pay either regular fare or pop for the “Posh Pit,” where you’ll be served espresso vodka “ro-martinis” and artful canapes (Every local I spoke with said “Go with Posh. Worth it.”)

Yeah, Posh was pretty nice.

But the museum. It’s almost entirely underground, three stories deep carved out of the riverside sandstone and connected by a maze of post-apocalyptic’ish tunnels. There are no real signs or guides – you’re asked to load and activate the museum’s “O” app that you can consult if you get lost or confused and would like to do something about it.

Aboveground, if/when you get overloaded, there’s frolic area – lawns, picnic space, food and drink “carts” and a band playing. It’s lovely.

Underground, the exhibits themselves – well, I’m not going to be able to do them justice. Even calling them “exhibits” feels off. I mean, some of the seating is…unexpectedly interactive.

But honestly, the whole thing was a lot of fun, if a bit overwhelming. It’s supposed to be overwhelming. I suppose that’s why they have the frolic area up top. And if not even frolicking will do it anymore, there are always the coffee bean vodka espresso martinis during the posh shuttle ride back to the normal world.