On a warm Port Macquarie afternoon, 82-year-old Henry Field sits on the balcony of his new home, watching the sun sink over a lake with his wife by his side. This might sound like any idyllic retirement scene – except Henry is living with dementia, and this tranquil lakeside deck is part of a secure aged care village designed especially for people like him.

'Well, I love it,' Henry says of his new living arrangement. This is not your typical nursing home. There’s no strict schedule forcing Henry to abandon his sunset viewing for a 5pm dinner; 'I don't have to forsake my viewing the sunset for coming to have dinner. Just put it in the fridge and I'll have it later,' he explains with a grin. For a man who once spent seven years bicycling around the world in his youth, regaining a sense of independence in old age is priceless.



Henry is among the first residents of Emmaus Dementia Village in NSW’s Mid North Coast, one of a handful of new facilities in Australia inspired by a groundbreaking Dutch model of care known as The Hogeweyk. His wife Liz, relieved at finding an alternative to a traditional nursing home, admits she 'could not imagine him in a nursing home... For him, little room, no activities… I think he would have really struggled.'

Instead of a single building with hospital-like corridors, Henry’s new home is a little community – often dubbed a 'dementia village' – where residents like him roam freely, live in small households, and engage with normal daily life. It’s a bold new approach to dementia care that is both informative in what it teaches us about living with dignity, and entertaining in the sense that it busts stereotypes – a real-life twist that could have come straight from an uplifting movie script. But this is reality, unfolding right here in Australia.

A Dutch Idea That’s Changing Dementia Care​

The dementia village concept was born in the Netherlands over a decade ago, and at first, it raised some skeptical eyebrows. Imagine an elderly care facility that looks and feels like a quaint little town, complete with streets, gardens, a cafe, a grocery store, and a hair salon – but all of it is a carefully crafted stage for residents with advanced dementia. When De Hogeweyk opened on the outskirts of Amsterdam in 2009, some observers dubbed it The Truman Show for dementia patients, referencing the film about a man living in an elaborately staged reality.

Indeed, Hogeweyk’s own staff liken it to theatre: 'The frontstage is what all the residents experience as a normal way of living... But backstage, we are a nursing home,' explained one of the founders. In other words, the supermarket cashier and the restaurant manager in this village are actually trained caregivers in plain clothes, blending into the scenery of daily life. Most residents believe they’re simply living in a normal village – and crucially, they feel at home.



This compassionate deception has a serious purpose. By letting people with dementia live in a familiar, relaxed environment, Hogeweyk found that residents became more at ease and required fewer medications to manage anxiety or agitation. 'Our residents feel like they’re living a normal life, and that’s what we think is very important,' a Hogeweyk spokesperson said, noting that the elders there are calmer and need less medication because the village feels like home. In an era when sedative drugs have often been the go-to solution for difficult dementia behaviours, this is a game-changer. One American dementia expert went so far as to call Hogeweyk’s approach 'the kindest, most compassionate way to care for them', saying it’s 'surely better than the usual nursing homes that can resemble hospitals'.

So, what exactly is a dementia village? At Hogeweyk, the world’s first dementia village, the guiding idea is to 'deinstitutionalise, transform, and normalise' life for people with dementia. Rather than the regimented, clinical atmosphere of a traditional nursing home, Hogeweyk is designed to be an ordinary town where life goes on almost as usual – just within a safe perimeter. Residents (all of whom have severe dementia in Hogeweyk’s case) live in group households of 6–7 people, in comfortable townhouses with their own bedrooms and shared kitchens, living rooms, and gardens.

They’re matched into households based on similar backgrounds or lifestyles – for example, people who were homemakers might live together, while those with a more urban, cosmopolitan background share another house. The idea is to surround people with an environment that feels familiar and 'right' for them. Crucially, there are no tell-tale nursing stations or uniformed nurses at the door. Care staff ditch the medical scrubs for street clothes and work within the home setting, cooking meals, doing chores, and assisting as needed behind the scenes.



Key elements of the Hogeweyk model include:

• Small households, big freedom: Each small group of residents lives in a normal house with a front door, kitchen and garden, rather than a hospital ward. They can wake up, eat, and go about their day on their own schedule. A central village layout with streets and outdoor spaces allows residents to wander safely, which satisfies their urge to walk while preventing them from truly getting lost or coming to harm.
• Familiar daily life: There are shops to buy groceries, a café to have a coffee, even a cinema – all staffed by caregivers – so that daily routines like shopping or going for a bite feel real. Residents participate in normal activities like music clubs, gardening, or helping prepare dinner. As one expert put it, the village lets them experience the world 'as they currently understand it', even if that means slipping into memories of the past.
• No hospital in sight: The clinical aspects of care are kept discreetly in the background. Medical equipment is tucked away, and if a resident needs a check-up or medication, it’s handled quietly without disrupting the illusion of normalcy. Staff members don’t correct residents’ confusion by reorienting them to harsh reality; instead, they gently redirect and go along with residents’ reality – a practice many dementia experts say is far kinder.
• Personalised living: Hogeweyk pioneered the idea of lifestyle-based households. Whether a resident used to be a tradesperson, an artist, or a devout church-goer, there’s a house that reflects those tastes – down to the décor and daily rhythm. This helps residents feel “at home” and maintain a sense of identity and dignity despite memory loss.

The results out of the Netherlands have been encouraging enough to spark a mini-revolution in elder care. 'After a few weeks, residents improve dramatically, becoming calmer and requiring less medication,' Hogeweyk officials reported of their villagers. Studies have noted that familiar, homelike settings reduce agitation and wandering, and improve quality of life for people with dementia. And yes, building an entire 'mini-town' for residents isn’t cheap – Hogeweyk cost around $25 million to build – but proponents argue the benefits in quality of life are worth it.

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'If you can provide a safe surrogate environment where patients who cannot really think clearly can wander about enjoyably, that has many advantages,' said one Mayo Clinic neurologist, adding that this model can reduce the need for mood-altering drugs and prevent the boredom and confusion that plague so many nursing homes. Another dementia specialist was blunt: ethically, this may be a far better solution than parking people in 'mini hospitals,' which is what many aged care facilities essentially are.

Bringing the Village Revolution Down Under​

It took a while, but the 'dementia village' concept has made its way to Australian shores – and not a moment too soon, considering the demographic wave ahead. There are already more than 420,000 Australians living with dementia, and that number is expected to double to around 800,000 by 2058 as the population ages. In other words, there won’t be anyone in Australia not impacted in some way by this issue in the coming decades. Our aged care system has been under intense scrutiny (remember the recent Royal Commission into Aged Care Quality and Safety), with countless stories of neglect and inadequate dementia care. It’s against this backdrop that a few pioneers are attempting something radically different.

Tasmania led the way in 2020 with the opening of Korongee Dementia Village in Hobart’s northern suburbs – the first of its kind in Australia. Korongee looks, at first glance, like a typical little Aussie suburb: there are cul-de-sacs lined with small homes painted in different colours, each with a brightly coloured front door and a memory box beside it displaying personal mementos for the resident of that room. There’s a general store, a café, a hair salon, a little town square – even a community centre and gardens. What you won’t find are any confusing high-rise hallways or nurses in clinical uniforms.


'The village is designed to help residents stay independent for as long as possible,' explains Lucy O’Flaherty, CEO of Glenview, the organisation behind Korongee. Residents live in households of eight people, matched using a University of Tasmania-developed 'typology' that groups those with similar values and interests. It’s the same principle Hogeweyk uses – matching personalities and backgrounds so that living together feels natural. Lighting in the homes mimics normal day-night cycles, toilets are painted a different colour to be easily recognized (an important detail when visual processing and memory falter). All these design tweaks are based on dementia-inclusive design principles, essentially an evidence-based understanding of how people with dementia perceive their environment and how to help them navigate it.

When Korongee opened with its $25 million purpose-built village (funded in part by superannuation fund HESTA, which invested $19m after recognising the tremendous demand), it immediately attracted national attention. With capacity for 96 residents, Korongee was a brave experiment aiming to show that 'better designed dementia services could help people live longer and happier'. Families of residents like Lyn McGaurr – whose father had struggled in a standard nursing home – hoped that a place like Korongee could have 'helped him feel more comfortable and secure... he might even have lived longer' if he’d had the chance to live in such an environment. It’s still early days, but Korongee is being closely studied by researchers from the Wicking Dementia Centre to see how residents fare, which design features work best, and what can be improved. That research will be gold for future projects around the country.



Not long after Korongee, Queensland entered the scene with a slightly different spin on the concept. NewDirection Care at Bellmere, near Brisbane, opened what it calls a 'micro-town' for aged care – the world’s first, in fact, to mix residents with and without dementia in one community. Its founder, Natasha Chadwick, believed in inclusiveness: 'I don’t understand that when someone gets a brain disease or impairment we, all of a sudden, think they need to be in a secure ward away from everyone else,' she said. Instead of a single locked dementia unit, Bellmere’s micro-town looks like a regular neighborhood with 17 houses, each home to seven residents, set among streets and gardens.

About 70% of Bellmere’s 120 residents live with some cognitive impairment (many with dementia, including 20% with severe dementia), while the rest do not – and interestingly, those without cognitive issues often help their neighbours who are struggling, essentially 'speaking up on behalf of the people who aren’t [cognitively able] and helping them'. The village has its own little cinema, a corner shop, café, beauty salon, GP clinic and even a tavern, so that daily life is rich and engaging. Each house has a universal worker called a 'house companion' who does everything from cooking meals in the household kitchen to arranging doctor visits, supported by a roster of nurses and therapists on call.



'Pretty much everything that the Royal Commission is suggesting we should be providing as aged care providers,' Chadwick noted with pride. It’s a new model, but one that has won awards and attracted visitors from around the globe – including the Dutch founders of Hogeweyk themselves, who gave a nod of approval (even if Bellmere’s inclusive approach is a bit different from their all-dementia village).

And now, as we saw at the start, Australia has a third dementia village: the Emmaus Dementia Village in Port Macquarie, New South Wales, where Henry Field found his refuge. Opened in late 2024, Emmaus was built by St Agnes Parish and is directly inspired by the Hogeweyk model. It features small houses, pedestrian-friendly design with familiar landmarks (they even chose familiar street names and brightly coloured house exteriors as visual cues for residents). Within the secure village gates, residents don’t have to follow a rigid routine and can move freely between the houses, gardens and common areas.

Henry, for example, often grabs the pétanque (boules) set and heads outside to start a game – staff and other residents join in under the sun as the day unfolds at an easy pace. The village even has a little farm vibe: a chicken coop with a few free-roaming hens, which Henry delights in feeding, recalling his love of nature. 'The village has a garden and chicken coop with three free-roaming hens,' one report notes – a simple joy that brings smiles and a sense of normal life.

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Indeed, the whole philosophy of these villages is to let people keep living life. Jannette Spiering, the co-creator of Hogeweyk, puts it best: 'Having a normal environment, a normal life, being able to address your interests, having autonomy – all these elements are now part of our vision of normal life.' Spiering visited Australia to advise on projects here, and she emphasizes that the bricks-and-mortar village is only as good as the mindset behind it: 'the philosophy of care is more important than the built environment,' she says. In her view, people don’t stop being who they are just because they have dementia. They still have likes and dislikes, talents and hobbies, and they crave freedom and purpose.

A village that lets a former artist keep painting and teaching others – like Henry now mentors fellow residents in the art room, rather than sitting idle – or allows a lifelong gardener to tend to plants in the courtyard, can rekindle a sense of self in people that modern institutional care often snuffs out. 'People, when they move into a nursing home, become patients, they become part of the institute... that is not what we envision for ourselves,' Spiering argue. And let’s be honest, none of us envisions for ourselves a future locked in a dementia ward with plastic furniture and daytime TV blaring. We’d much rather be out in the sunshine, strolling past the local shop on the way to meet friends for a coffee – even if that 'shop' is staffed by a kind nurse keeping an eye from behind the counter.

Not a One-Size-Fits-All Solution​

As promising as dementia villages are, it’s important to acknowledge they’re not a silver bullet – nor will they suit everyone. Dementia is a complex condition that ranges from forgetfulness to severe confusion and behavioral issues, and what works for one person might overwhelm another. Even Jannette Spiering concedes that 'The Hogeweyk model is not for everyone'. Some people with dementia, especially those who become very anxious or sensitive to stimulation, might find a bustling village confusing or distressing. 'Some people do not benefit from an environment like we created... it gives them too much stimulus, it might be too busy,' Spiering says frankly. For those individuals, a smaller group home or a quieter setting might be better.



There’s also the critique that dementia villages create an 'artificial' world. Kaele Stokes of Dementia Australia notes that while villages are well-intentioned, 'there’s a sense it creates an artificial environment.' After all, these are closed communities – no one wanders in off the street unless they’re part of the program. In a perfect world, Stokes says, all our towns and suburbs would become dementia-inclusive, enabling people to remain in their actual homes and neighborhoods safely 'rather than in an aged-care service that imitates a real-life village'. In other words, why build a faux town for a few when we could make the real towns friendly for many? It’s a fair point – dementia-friendly design can indeed be applied to public spaces, shops, parks, and homes (think clearer signage, sensory gardens, trained community members who understand dementia).

There are initiatives in some Australian communities to become 'dementia-friendly' towns, so those with early-stage dementia can stay engaged locally. But the reality is that as dementia progresses to advanced stages, safety and care needs often make it impractical for someone to remain fully in the general community. That’s where a place like Hogeweyk or Korongee – artificial though it may be in concept – can provide a contained freedom. It’s a trade-off: yes, it’s a made-up village, but it’s also a real home for those who live there, with the supports they need just a step away.



Cost and scalability remain big challenges. Building a dementia village from scratch requires significant investment, as we saw (tens of millions of dollars, land, architecture, training). Not every community can whip one up, and not every aged care operator is convinced – especially when government funding models for aged care are already stretched. A sobering example comes from Heathcote, a small town in central Victoria, where locals spent nine years planning an ambitious dementia village called Gilbruk Place.

Despite all the community fundraising and even securing land, the project was scrapped in 2023 because they couldn’t get an aged care operator and clear government funding to make the numbers work. 'We think the project’s fabulous... but unfortunately circumstances don't allow us to pursue [it],' the group was told by prospective operators. The disappointment was palpable, and it prompted calls for a 'fundamental rethink' of how aged care is funded in Australia. Advocates argue that if we want innovative solutions like this, there may need to be new funding models or public-private partnerships. (In the case of Korongee, remember, a superannuation fund saw the social value and invested for impact–a creative approach we might see more of.)

Another issue is staffing and training. Running a dementia village isn’t like running a normal aged care home. The staff need to be trained not just in clinical care, but in the ethos of the village – how to care in a person-centered way, how to encourage independence while ensuring safety, and even how to improvise being shopkeepers or café waiters! It requires a culture shift among management and caregivers. 'We have a lot of evidence that people using these models usually have better outcomes,' says Reuben Jacob, CEO of Aged Care Research and Industry Innovation Australia (ARIIA), '[but] the other side of the coin is that it requires a lot of training at the workforce level and the executive level'.

In short, you can’t just plonk residents into a faux village and expect magic – the carers make or break the experience. Fortunately, ARIIA and other bodies are actively funding research and training to 'turbocharge' the spread of innovative care models like this, backed by government support for phasing out the old institutional models.



Lastly, some families might worry: Is it ethical to fool people with dementia into thinking this village is ‘real’? On this count, most experts (and many families) have come to a gentle consensus: it’s kinder to meet people in their reality than to force them into ours. If a resident thinks they are just living in their old hometown or working in a shop, should we burst that bubble? Dementia specialists say no. As long as residents are safe and happy, maintaining that 'therapeutic illusion' is not about trickery, but about compassion. Staff at Hogeweyk are instructed never to lie if asked directly – they’ll explain that it’s a care community – but because of memory loss, residents rarely retain that information. One clinician put it plainly: 'I doubt there is any effort to ‘fool’ the residents... they are trying to create the most naturalistic environment possible. Sounds like a great place.' Given the alternative – a locked ward where the truth is cold and clinical – many conclude that a bit of make-believe in service of wellbeing is ethically sound.

The Future of Aged Care: A Village or a Wider Community?​

It’s still early days for dementia villages in Australia, but the momentum is building. Government and industry leaders have taken note that the status quo in aged care isn’t going to cut it for the 21st century. 'More traditional models will eventually be phased out,' predicts ARIIA’s Reuben Jacob, citing strong support for innovation at the highest levels. The fact that Australia now has dementia villages in three states – and countless families on waiting lists clamouring to get loved ones into them – suggests that we’re hungry for alternatives that offer dignity and quality of life. NewDirection Care’s Bellmere community reportedly has a 100% occupancy rate and a long waiting list of people wanting to move in, and that’s without any major government advertising – it’s word of mouth from families who see their mum or dad smiling again.



There’s talk of more projects on the horizon: smaller 'household' models being integrated into existing aged care campuses, and even the idea of retrofitting some nursing homes to be more village-like. At the same time, Dementia Australia and other advocates urge that we don’t ignore those who will not get to live in these special villages. The principles being proven – small scale living, autonomy, meaningful activity, environmental cues to reduce confusion – can and should be applied in mainstream aged care and in people’s own homes wherever possible.

It’s inspiring to see local communities stepping up too. In regional areas, where services are thin, grassroots groups have started dementia-friendly day centres and pushed for better respite care. The wave of innovation doesn’t only have to come from top-down; it can be bottom-up from carers who simply want a better life for their loved ones. Maree McCabe, CEO of Dementia Australia, says she’s 'so inspired' when communities take initiative, because 'this isn’t just a government issue... It’s a community issue'. In the end, caring for people with dementia is something that will touch every community, every neighborhood – perhaps every family.

So, as Australia faces a future where dementia becomes ever more common, we find ourselves at a crossroads. One path continues the old way: large, impersonal facilities that, despite best efforts, often end up depriving people of their independence and spirit. Another path is paved with fresh ideas and yes, a bit of make-believe: villages where life feels worth living and nobody is defined by their disease. Henry Field’s joyful new routine – watching sunsets, tossing a petanque ball on the lawn, mentoring a friend in the art studio – is a powerful testament to what the new path could look like. The question is, as a society, are we ready to invest in environments that truly honour our elders?

And on a personal level, it’s worth asking ourselves: If you or someone you love were living with dementia, what kind of life would you want to lead in those years – and how can we make that vision a reality for all?

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