Those who stop dreaming are lost.

Australian Aboriginal Proverb

It’s a bit like a dream. Or a scene from Survivor. You know, the final part of the reality show, when the contestants have to go to Tribal Council. A dimly lit foot path, red sand beneath your feet, dry shrubs and bizarre looking trees on each side, blocking the view of what’s in front of you. The sun setting in a spectacular blaze of orange and red, making room for the night sky lit by a thousand stars. In the distance the humming sound of a didgeridoo. And at the end of the trail: Tali Wiru – a beautiful dune (in the local Anangu language) at the foot of the Uluru. 

Palya! Welcome to the Red Centre, the heart of the Australian Outback. Home of the magical Uluru and Kata-Tjuta, formerly known as Ayers Rock and The Olgas. Called the Red Centre for obvious reasons. The fiery red desert sand everywhere – beneath my shoes, in my shoes, on my shoes, between my teeth. That and the flies. 

First thing that hits me when I get off the plane after three three hour flight from Sydney: The heat – 37 Degrees Celsius! So hot that they have urine charts in the toilets instructing you on how much water you should drink. A litre per hour. More, if you are having alcohol. Not more alcohol. More water!

And flies! Those tiny little animals, that make your life miserable. Flies in your face. Your mouth. Your ears. Your nose. Your eyes. You see people with ridiculous looking hats and fly nets, and you think: Pah! I’m not going to wear that! Ten minutes later you stand in line at the tourist shop, happy to spend premium price for a net over your head. Beige please – goes with my hat.

You get on a bus to drop you off at one of the four Resort Hotels. A short ride through the red desert and sparse vegetation, the iconic rock in the distance: the Uluru. More than just a rock. A monolith. An inselberg. Uluru – a living cultural landscape, considered sacred by the indigenous people of the area, the Anangu. They believe that sometimes their spirits turned into rocks or trees or a part of the landscape. These became sacred places with special qualities.

My first taste of the magic: a decadent four-course meal under the Southern Desert sky. White linen cloths, silverware, lights and sparkling glasses. Champagne and canapes, crocodile souffle and kangaroo filet. The Rock constantly changing colours in the setting sun, until the outback night sky twinkles to life. Immense awe and gratitude fill me as I sit and watch the Uluru in the background disappear in the dark, leaving only an ominous silhouette. One of these Pinch me! Moments. I am actually here.. in the middle of Australia… looking at one of the most well known Aussie landmarks, sipping wine.

And if this isn’t magical enough, a sea of light suddenly rises before our eyes. 50.000 coloured light bulbs come to life as part of a permanent art installation. Field of Light. Tili Wiru Tjuta Nyakkutjaku – Looking at lots of beautiful lights. A feast for the senses. What a magical welcome to this special place on earth.

The magic continues the next morning with a base walk around the Uluru. For some reason I always thought, this rock was just a fat slab of red stone in the middle of the desert, that people like to climb. Which, by the way is no longer allowed due to environmental, cultural, and safety reasons. Yet, Uluru is so much more than a mountain climbing destination for tourists from all over the world. Uluru is rock caves and waterfalls, waterholes and ancient rock art. Uluru is about stories and dreaming. Tjukurpa (creation) and Tjukaritja (physical evidences of creation). Uluru is about beliefs being true.

In the rising sun, we start our 12km walk around the base of the Uluru, learning about sacred sites like Kuniya Piti and hearing Tjukurpa (creation) stories. Stories about giant dingo ghosts (Mala) and the blue tongued lizard Lungkata. We can see how proof for every story can be found in the landscape around us. Why this place is so important to the local Aboriginal People, the Anangu, who have lived their traditional lifestyle for thousands of years. Walking around Uluru not only is a great way of getting a feeling for the enormous size of it, but also, to understand a bit of the magic that is connected to it, and the spiritual meaning and cultural significance it has for its people.

I return to the resort, back to tourists and kitsch, pools and supermarkets (the only one in a 467km radius and well stocked with plenty of toilet paper!). Take a short break from the heat and the flies. Get ready for a Kata Tjuta Sunset tour. Also known as The Olgas, these rock domes 25km west of Uluru are part of the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park and sacred to the local aboriginal Anangu people as well. Once connected with the Uluru in a single mountain range, the many legends and stories of this sacred sight are mostly kept secret by the indigineous. The beauty of the iron-tinted red rock and the magic behind it, however, are the same.

I have to admit, coming out here and visiting Ayers Rock (forgive me, but that’s the only name I knew for this magical place until I arrived here) was not on my top ten list of things to do in Australia. Too far away, too touristy, too expensive, too overrated, too boring. Just another rock in a hard place, right? I changed my mind, fearing that not seeing Uluru might lead to regrets once I’m back at the other side of the world. And I am very glad I did. Uluru/Ayers Rock is far away, and touristy, and expensive. But it also has its quiet moments, its magical sides, an awe inspiring, different beauty, a humbling effect on me as a human being. They say, you get an unusual spiritual feeling when you get here – and I did. It may be the old ancient land and its stories or maybe it’s just magnetism. Palya! Hello! Goodbye and Thank you!

Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

Rick Astley

I got rickrolled. Not once. Not twice. Three times in one week. Melbourne, Sydney, and finally today in the Hunter Valley, one of Australia’s major wine regions. Out of the blue, he keeps appearing unexpectedly, softly singing in my ear… “Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down“…But let me start at the beginning…or rather: the end!

After a busy week at school with busy bees and creepy crawlers and fabulous Fasching fun, a well deserved break seemed it order: a wine tasting tour in Hunter Valley. A two hour drive from Sydney, in a mini bus together with two very supportive local colleagues, a couple from Wales and two young ladies from Japan. And Jeffrey, the bus driver. Good driver, somewhat obsessed with the Aldi store chain. But that’s a different story.

Early Saturday morning, beautiful sunrise, blue skies – the perfect day for an educational excursion into the hinterlands of Sydney. Ready to learn about the birthplace of Australia’s wine, the Hunter Valley, or short THE HUNTER.

The Wonnarua, the people off the hills and plains, had lived in the area for over 30.000 years already. But it was some Scottish wine maker dude called James Busby, who arrived in 1832 with some 500 vine cuttings from back home and thus helped establish the Hunter Valley as a key wine region and Australia as a grape growing country. Today, the Hunter is one of 65 wine growing regions in Australia with over 150 wineries (out of the almost 2500 across the continent). In comparison, Canada has 800 wineries in total, with about 80 in the Niagara Region close to Toronto.

Barely able to distinguish between white and red, I was ready to learn about the golden, citrusy Semillon and the earthy Shiraz. About Sav Blanc and Cab Sauv. Chardy. Champers. Easy drinking (as opposed to heavy drinking?). Body. Legs. Tannins (sounded more like a fitness studio to me). Muscular. Jammy. Flighty. Earthy. Easy. Easy Gisi!

First stop: STOMP Winery. Greeted by a vicious guard dog, we had out first tastings of the local wines. We learned that while the vineyards in the valley had been spared from the flames of the devastating fires, this year’s vintage had been affected by the smoke from the bushfire’s (smoke taint). We still enjoyed the intimacy of this small boutique winery and left with plenty of bags of plinkety plong.

Iron Gate Estate next – a family-run, Tuscany-style winery amidst the vineyards. Plenty of Spanish tiles and fountains, iron-bark beams and wasted hens on their bachelorette weekend-party. Semillon, Chardonnay, and the Verdelho that the Hunter is known for, as well as Shiraz, Cabernet, and Tempranillo. I was beginning to feel a little tipsy. Time for lunch!

I don’t think I have ever been so full in my life. Cafe lunch with chicken schnitzel and chips, cheese sampling, chocolate tasting… should have worn my stretchy pants. Still, onto the third, and final (alas!) winery: Savannah Estate in Mount View. And this is where it happened. I got rick rolled!

Rick Astley in Concert. My childhood star! Together with Norwegian pop-band Aha on tour in Australia. Ok, I admit, I only know one or two songs they both sang, but those were really good songs! Memorable! Unforgettable! Classic! But I missed them in Melbourne, missed them in Sydney, only to learn now that they were playing tonight. In the Hunter! As if Rick was following me. And I would miss it – again! “Never gonna give you up..!”

No further wine samples, not even the sight of Bruce the kangaroo amidst the vines, were able to console me. Rick and I – we were never going to be together forever. Forever apart rather. Sigh!

So we went home. Bottles of wonderful wine and chocolate willies and plenty of great memories of a perfect day! Tired from all the hard yakka, we soon fell asleep, our bus gently rolling through the valleys of the Hunter, through green vineyards, lush rain fed fields and quaint little villages. And in my sleep, I’m sure, I heard him call, heard him sing… Never gonna give you up.Never gonna let you down… Rickrolling home….Cheers!

Four seasons in one day
Lying in the depths of your imagination
Worlds above and worlds below
The sun shines on the black clouds hanging over the domain
Even when you’re feeling warm
The temperature could drop away
Like four seasons in one day

Crowded House. Four season in one day

Melbourne vs Sydney. Cologne vs Düsseldorf (fighting for predominance in carnival parades this very weekend – Alaaf!). Toronto vs Montreal. Toronto vs Ottawa. Toronto vs all of Canada really.

City rivalry. Almost as good as its sibling counterpart. Comparing two cities can be as silly as comparing children. And petty, even mean. You should never do it, but still we all do, because it’s just so much fun! 

So while I’m sitting in the creatively inspiring surroundings of the National Gallery of Victoria Cafe, let me go ahead and have some fun, attempting a totally uneducated, purely subjective comparison of the only  two major cities I have visited in Australia thus far: Melbourne vs Sydney.

Marvellous Melbourne. The Capital of Victoria state. City by the Bay. The Europe of Australia. Cosmopolitan with a great mix of people, heaps of cafes and bars, good sports events and plenty of museums . Like the NGV! The beating heart of Australia when it comes to culture, food and art. If Sydney is TO SEE ( the beaches, the ocean, iconic sights), then Melbourne is TO DO. To eat, to shop, to enjoy. 

1. Things to do

To be honest, Sydney to me so far mostly meant outdoor fun! With its beaches and ocean, bushland and sunshine, I spend most of my time outside: running, hiking, swimming, falling over.. Sure, there is plenty of things to see and do – the zoo, the aquarium, the bridge, Sydney tower. But with all the natural beauty around me, I haven’t really felt the need to take advantage of any of these cultural offerings so far.

Melbourne seems to have everything that Sydney has to offer: a Botanical Garden (minus the view overlooking the harbour), an aquarium and a zoo (just a little smaller), the skyline (sans iconic buildings such as the Opera building or the Harbour Bridge). 

But it’s the food, the drinks, shopping and events we came for. Coffee ( the best in the world they say), brunch at St Kilda Pier, Kombucha at the Grand Prix Circuit, churros from the food truck, coffee again, dinner with a view  at Naked for Satan … did I mention coffee? 

The Art exhibit at the National Gallery of Victoria, the State Library, Rick Astley at the Park (ok, we did not get tickets for that, but it was very tempting). Margaret Atwood in conversation (though THAT we saw in Sydney already the week before) … Grand Prix, Melbourne Cup, Tennis Open. Do I need to say more?

2. Climate

It is hard to beat Sydney’s weather: beautiful sunshine, blue skies, warm temperatures pretty much all year round. Melbourne, on the other hand, supposedly, has more unpredictable weather: wind, rain blowing in and out, sudden swings in temperature. 

Yet, when we left Sydney, it was raining, only to arrive in Melbourne to perfect blue skies and a genuinely lovely day. It turned out, Sydney receives more rainfall during the year than Melbourne and when it rains, it rains! After weeks of torrential downpours and cyclones and power outages, it was nice to spend the weekend in warm and sunny Melbourne. And how lovely the city looked against a backdrop of the blue sky!

3. Public Transport

Busses, taxis, Uber. Trains, planes, automobiles.. Getting around in either city seems to be easy enough. What distinguishes Melbourne from Sydney and gives it part of its European flair, is the city’s tram, taking us from Queen Victoria Market to Docklands, Flinders Street Station to Federation Square. And the best part, it’s for free! At least in the city’s Free Tram Zone. We took the City Circle tram and went around and around again to get a good view of the sights and rest our tired feet, all for the price of nothing. No wonder, Melbourne’s public transport is called the best in all of Australia! Brilliant! 

4. Outdoor spaces

Sydney might have an abundance of nature in the city with its green spaces like the Botanical Garden, Hyde Park), a lovely harbour, breathtaking walks along the shore, beaches close to the city… but Melbourne definitely has the largest number of outdoor weddings I have ever seen! Brides in Albert Park Lake, the Royal Botanical Garden, Parliament Gardens…That, and Pokemon Go! Players all over town. Who knew that was still a thing?

Fazit

In the end, it does seem a little silly comparing two cities that both have a lot to offer. So I asked our Uber driver Damian what he thought. Having lived in both cities, he seemed to the perfect person to ask.

“So, Damian. Do you think there is somewhat of a competition between the two cities?”

“Oh, ja, absolutely! They hate each other!”

“Which one do you prefer?”

“Listen”, he says, “I like Sydney. It’s hard to beat the beaches and the ocean. People are outside, you know.. they do stuff. Surfing and stuff. 

Melbourne is great for bars. And sports. Great sport events. Lots to do in Melbourne. Like art stuff. Very cosmopolitan. And great bars!”

Cheers! 

Everybody wants happiness,

Nobody wants pain:

But there can’t be a rainbow

Without a little rain.

Dolly Parton

Forest greens. Fading blue. An endless ocean of lush gumtrees stretching to the horizon. Deep dark valleys and red sandstone cliffs. The warm yellow and shy purple of the wildflowers growing in front of the small cottage perched on the escarpment. 

The rasping ruckus of the cicadas mixed with the distant rushing of a waterfall (or is it the nearby highway?). The sun shining bright and warm, the light breeze playing with the pages of my notebook. The perfect spot to write. Tuscany style. Yet, I don’t know what to say, rendered speechless by this perfect sight in front of my eyes.

Sista’s in town, and it’s like the city is putting on a special show just for her. Armed with sunblock and hat and shades, she gets greeted by the wettest weather Sydney has seen in 30 years. The total of the four-days rain more than the area had seen in the last six months! 

Bushfire warnings and water restrictions replaced by severe thunderstorms and non-stop heavy rain. Power outages, uprooted trees, and flooding everywhere. Flooded houses and apartments, streets and school basements. Our gym turned into a pool. Yet, water reservoirs up by 30% – can’t have a rainbow without a little rain.

After the storm, the beach swamped with piles of rotting seaweed, charred sea trees and debris. A dead rat, err, I mean bandicoot. Rubbish washed ashore. 

A faint rainbow forming over the ocean. A light drizzle continues to fall, forcing the colourful parakeet under our roof. A hungry little rainbow in the never ending little rain.

And then she returns. The bright Australian sun. With its azure blue sky slowly turning pink from the fading light. Touching the endless valleys and tree covered rims with is shine. My heart like a satellite dish sending signals to the sun (okay, I read that somewhere, but I like it). 

White cockatoos with their yellow rimmed wings circling above our heads – welcome to Jurassic Park, I mean the Blue Mountains. (Writer’s) Paradise found, 2 hours west of Sydney. Scenic bush land and endless waterfalls, breathtaking views and sheer cliffs.  

The Three Sisters, the Three Brothers. The Orphan Rock. Where the sun sets behind the blue tinted hills to make space for a star-spangled night sky. Only to return the next morning in a blaze of red and orange and pink and bright. 

A day of bush walks through remaining puddles and mud to happily gurgling streams and gushing waterfalls. Of thunder rolling in the distant distance, with a few raindrops quickly dissipating in the warmth of the sun. Can’t have a rainbow without a little rain.

An Aboriginal Dreaming story tells how birds came into being when a rainbow shattered and its colourful shards fell to earth. I believe the same could be said about this place. A place so beautiful and perfect that all my words seem to fail. Perfect writer’s spot or not.

Enjoy the sunshine and the rain. And the rainbows if you can.

(Photos courtesy of M&M. Thank you <3)

‘Cause every time it rains

You’re here in my head

Like the sun coming out

Looks like the sun is coming out

Ooh, I just know that something good is going to happen

And I don’t know when

But just saying it could even make it happen

Cludbuster. Kate Bush

“Frau Koehl! When feet get wet in the rain, do mushrooms start growing between the toes?”

Welcome to morning circle in my Grade 2 classroom! Not even 9 o’clock yet, and my seven year olds are already pondering the true questions of life. 

Outside our classroom window it is raining. Pouring! Torrential rainfalls coming down, quickly turning the grassy play area into a muddy swamp. Rain like the city hasn’t seen in months…years. Puddles and streams forming at the entrance to our class container – nicely mixed with the dirt that someone decided to dump outside during the first week of school. What a mess!

“Please don’t play on the dirt piles children!” Another recess request falling on deaf ears. Who can blame them? It does look like fun climbing those enormous mounds of dirt. Especially if you are told not to do so. Warnings yelled from staff room windows. Teachers on duty trying their best to keep the kids off this exciting new play space. Good luck!

Back to my classroom. 24 pairs of muddy, wet rubber boots and shoes dropped haphazardly at the sliding door, school bags and sun hats on hooks outside, already drenched by the incessant rain. It is going to be a long day! 24 children stuck in a metal container for hours at end. 

Where every washroom break means putting on your (still wet and muddy) shoes – if you can find them in the ever growing pile at the door – and running to the main building, getting hammered by the rain. 

Where you think twice about having your students get their reading books out of their school bags outside (an idea quickly abandoned). And there are only so many movement breaks and beach movies on YouTube you can offer. 

By lunchtime I’m glad to get a – alas- short, but sweet break. Returning after a quick bite to eat, I find my class in a state of utter chaos. Not the normal it’s-Friday-and-we-are-having-indoor-recess-all-day-long kind of chaos. No, I mean children standing-on-chairs-and-tables-screaming-hysterically chaos! Assessing the situation professionally, I follow their little outstretched index fingers with my eyes and soon find the hard-to-miss source of their terror: a huge Huntsman spider! Sitting in the upper corner of the classroom. Not poisonous. Actually not dangerous at all – but really fat and hairy. And big. Very big. Luckily the beast is so far up that I don’t even have to pretend to be totally cool with catching it and extracting it from our classroom. Sometimes being the only adult in the room sucks!

“Don’t worry kids! It’s just a spider! (gag!) No need to panic! (silent scream!) I got this! (no I don’t).”

After teaching two more lessons – repeatedly checking secretly with my eyes, whether that spider is still sitting where I want it to sit (as far away from me as possible!) –  it is time to leave the classroom container. Freedom! Release! Finally! It’s swim time, with a free before-and-after shower included. Herding 24 kids in swimmers and goggles to the neighbouring pool, screaming from the excitement of being showered by Mother Nature… 100 metres never seemed so long!

My day ends with bus duty in – yup you got it! – the rain! By now I have ditched my soaking wet shoes and perform my duties in thongs instead. The shoe kind, not the underwear. If you can’t beat’em, float’em! 

Still…after a summer of drought and heat and bushfires, the rain does feel great! Extinguishing fires still burning along thecoast of NSW, filling depleted water reserves at least a little bit, greening farmers’ pastures, cleaning the air and city from all ashes and dirt. 

However, in the last couple of days it seems that things have gone from one extreme to the other: severe downpours, gusty winds, high tides and dangerous surf. Beaches in the area are being closed due to waves 5 meters high, flooding in the city, erosion in the bushfire areas, where the loss of vegetation cover increases the likelihood that some of the ground will get washed away. Fire and Rain. Australia, the land of extremes.

It’s a beautiful day to stay in bed and read, go for a walk in the drizzle along the deserted beach, letting your hair get all big and frizzy, meet with friends and sit and laugh in the rain. And maybe even grow some mushrooms between my toes.

True Blue, is it me and you

Is it Mum and Dad, is it a cockatoo

Is it standin’ by your mate when he’s in a fight

Or just Vegemi-ite

True Blue, I’m a-asking you

John Williamson – True Blue

Australia Day Weekend. Time to spend with family and friends. And do that’s what I did. Including a complete make-over by an 8 year-old. “She’s a true blue!” her mother commented when admiring the end result. And I got the feeling, she wasn’t only referring to my make-up.

True Blue. I have to admit – the first thing that came to my mind: Madonna. Right? That cute little song from the eighties about true love with lots of doo-wops and lalalalalalala. And though the two of us, Madonna and I, did in fact look a bit alike at that moment, this was probably not what my friend meant.

True Blue. The colour of the sky and the sea. Of constancy and loyalty. Symbolizing trust and depth and faithfulness. Ok, so maybe not Madonna! More blue like the unchanging blue sky. Like the blue flowers in my neighbor’s yard. Someone loyal and faithful. Someone you can count on. A true blue.

True blue. Like the blue wren. Among the most beautiful birds in Australia, you can sometimes spot them in front of our staff room window. With their electric blue plumage they change into during mating season, this quirky little animal, though genetically promiscuous, apparently mates for life (not sure how the female counterpart feels about her new hot date changing from brilliant blue back to shabby brown once they hook up). Loyalty and faithfulness.

True blue. A well-known Australian folk song by singer John Williamson about cockatoos and vegemite and everything truly Australian. The real thing, no bullshit. Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin was a true blue with his khakis and his love for wildlife. A dinki di genuine Aussie. Honest and true. Sadly he died by being pierced in the chest by a stingray barb in the Great Barrier Reef. 

True blue. True Australian. Sporting blue shirts and hats and chest tattoos, waving flags and chanting Waltzing Matilda on Australia Day. A stereotype probably, but I did share a bus ride with them making my way out of the city as quickly as possible on Australia Day. And clearly not the only passenger on that bus who felt somewhat intimidated by this rowdy bunch.

Having grown up in Germany, where German Unity Day only got introduced in 1990, any form of patriotism or national pride makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable. Sure, my kids all wore the German National Elf soccer jersey and I do like a good bratwurst, but that’s probably the extend of me displaying my nationality in public. No flags, no traditional garb, no national anthem. Not my thing. Canada Day is a bit easier, because it involves hanging out with friends, street parties and barbecues and who doesn’t like a cute ROOTS beaver on their shirt.

But a crowd of 20+ drunk people at 10 in the morning … that was a bit much. So I was glad to soon arrive at my final destination – my ride waiting for me at a bus stop a couple of stops later, picking me up for a day of hiking in the gorgeous Blue Mountains. 

True blue. Blue Mountains. What could be more genuine Australian than this World Heritage Region west of Sydney, about an hour’s drive away, and known for its stunning natural beauty. A National Park densely populated by eucalyptus trees, their finely dispersed droplets of eucalyptus oil mixed with dust particles and water vapour in the air, breaking the rays of light in a way that gives the range its characteristic blue tinge. The Blue Mountains. True Blue.

During the ongoing bushfire crisis, 80% of the Blue Mountains world heritage area has burnt. Hundreds of thousands of hectares of national park and bushland, habitat for animals like the quoll and the wallabie. Being aware of the devastation caused by the recent fires in the area, I braced myself for the worst, expecting scenes like the one a colleague of mine had posted on social media (Finchley Track).

Instead I got greeted by bush trails and bubbling creeks, overhanging rock ledges and steep cliffs, waterfalls and an endless lush tree canopy. True Blue – fair dinkum!

True blue. The Blue Mountains have been inhabited for thousands of years (over 22.000 to be exact) by the Indigenous Australian people of NSW, the Gundungurra and the Darug people. Australia as a continent for over 60.000 years. Long before the first British flag was raised on January 26, 1788 in Sydney Cove. And while Australia Day is a day of celebration and BBQ s and national pride, for many it is a day of mourning and of sorrow. It seems that Australia, just like Canada, still has a long way to go when it comes to indigenous reconciliation.

True blue. The Blue Flag of Australia with its British Union Jack in the upper left hand corner and seven white stars. Red. Black.Yellow. The colours of the Aboriginal Australian Flag of the original peoples of mainland Australia. 

In his acceptance speech for Australian of the Year Award 2014 – a speech that was inspirational and inclusive, yet created a lot of anger amongst certain groups of the population – the former Australian football player and anti-racism activist Adam Goodes, in my opinion, showed what it means to balance being a strong indigenous leader with being a proud Australian.

“The ultimate reward is when all Australians see each other as equals and treat each other as equals. To me, everything is about people and the choices we make. I believe it’s the people and the interactions between us that makes this country so special. Thank you so much and have a great Australia Day.” (Adam Goodes, 2014)

Polar opposites

Antipode.

The direct opposite of something.

In geography, two spots on Earth that are direct opposites to each other. Antipodal points are as far away from each other as possible.

The antipode to Toronto, Canada? Yes, you guessed it: Australia.

 Augusta, to be exact, on the West coast of Australia. 18.000 km away from Toronto – the farthest point from home. Sydney not quite as distant, but pretty close: 15.555 km from T.O. 

20 hour flight. On the opposite side of the world. 

Antipodes. Polar opposites. The other extreme. Literally Upside Down.

I am back. Back to the Upside Down after four weeks of extreme opposites. Much needed time with family and friends. 

Solitude vs company. Surrounded by “my boys” that are all taller than me now and loving it. Falling over way too many (very big !) shoes in the hallway. Lively family gatherings and fun outings with friends. Eating poutine and beaver tails and sipping maple syrup and ice wine all the time! (Actually, not really, except for the last one maybe!)

Relaxation vs chores. It’s amazing how quickly you are back to the routine of shopping, cooking, washing, cleaning. While the boys are definitely doing an amazing job without me, I guess it must have been a nice change to be able to share the household chores. And have lots of food in the fridge, as my youngest pointed out.

Heat vs cold. Freezing cold! Sub-zero temperatures and lots of snow. White frosted trees and the quiet of a snowy winter day. The day I flew out of Toronto, a snow storm hit and brought 15 cm of snow to the city, which almost made me miss my plane! The people in Newfoundland only chuckled. They had just been buried in almost a meter of snow days before. Extremes everywhere.

And so I returned to Australia, the sunniest continent on Earth. Back to brilliant blue skies and bright yellow sunshine. Back to white capped ocean waves and golden sandy beaches. Back to technicolour flowers and my little blue house. Back to the sound of the surf crashing onto the shore and birds calling (yup, my friend the kookaburra is still around and guess what – he/she has a friend now!).

And sadly, at times, back to the faint smell of burnt wood and the haze from ashes in the air. Yet nothing compared to the catastrophic situation caused by the bushfires while I was gone.

“Are you actually going to go back to Sydney?”

“Are there fires where you live?”

“Will your school be closed?”

“Are you in danger?”

The constant media coverage about the Australian fires back home, mixed with fake news and a strange form of sensationalism at times, had people worried. And rightly so. An area as large as Iceland burnt, 24 people dead, an estimated billion animals perished. Some of them to the point of extinction. Homes, towns, lives lost. From afar it seemed like this entire country on the other side of the world was on fire. 

15.000 km from the devastation and catastrophe, people were trying to help. Crowdfunding on Facebook, firefighters from Canada joining Australian forces, knitting koala pouches and donating toonies at school. People across the globe getting together to help. Little beacons of hope in a word of haze and ashes.

Obviously I did go back to Sydney. My little blue house is ok. My school remains open. I am safe. But we are surrounded by a lot of wood and bush where I live and things can turn quickly at any time, as locals warn. It is bush fire season in Down Under, and an extremely catastrophic one this year. Though recent rainfalls have helped a bit, temperatures continue to be very high at times (40 degrees yesterday) and bush fire dangers are not over yet. Summer has yet another couple of weeks to go.

But for now I return to blue skies and warm sunshine, the air having been cleansed by the heavy downpours. Summer holidays only last for a few more days – time spent at the beach, cooling down in the water, relaxing on my long lawn chair on my patio. 

A few firsts since my return as well: My first swim in the ocean (did not get eaten by a shark), my first really hot day with temperatures rising to 40 degrees yesterday (very grateful for my air-conditioned studio), my first night out downtown (spent at the world’s most beautiful outdoor cinema at Sydney Harbour, watching a movie while bats circling above our heads and palm trees behind us swaying in the wind). 

And lots of everyday moments in between that make my time here in Sydney so special: running at sunrise, spending time at the beach with friends, watching the sun set over the ocean, still trying to get that coffee order right…

My two homes at the opposite ends of the world may be as far apart from each other as geographically possible (and I swear, I did not know that) and very different in many ways. Yet they also have so much in common: people being kind, the beauty of nature, the vastness of the country and its diversity, how all cars are out there to run you over, the same price for a Big Mac (according to the Big Mac Index, which apparently is a thing). On the World’s Happiness List 2019, Canada and Australia are almost ranked the same at #9 and #11, only with Austria wedged between the two countries.

Home is where the heart is. And at times it can be a bit confusing to know what to call home when you are travelling or working abroad. Throw in the country you were born and raised in, it gets really messy.

If home is where the heart is, why limit our hearts to only one place. Who made up that rule that home can only mean one place and one place only? Why not allow yourself to have more than one home, more than one country you feel connected to?

I’m not saying it’s always easy having your heart in more than one place. It can get confusing or lonely or both. Instead of belonging, you don’t feel like you really belong anywhere. 

The secret, I find, is to try to build bridges between those polar opposites I call home. Trying to stay connected, sharing your experiences, writing stupid blogs and hoping that someone will actually read them.

You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place, I told him, like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.

Azar Nafisi – Reading Lolita in Tehran

Travelling, living in a foreign place is a bittersweet experience. A mix of constant leaving, returning, arriving – all the while changing. Loving a place and its people yet longing for another. After five months on the other side of the world, it’s time to go home and spent some time with the people I love. Leaving behind a place and people I learned to love. I’m trying to be in the moment, to accept Aznar Nafisi’s “strange feeling” and enjoy all of it.

I leave you with a poem that I wrote – in bits and pieces – over the course of the last five month. I hope you enjoy it.

Balm for my Soul

People barefoot in the store

Watching surfers at the beach

The old man reading his paper 

saying hi when passing by

Easy like Sunday morning

Coffee in my finders-keepers-cup

A long long boardwalk walk run 

The quiet water and the gentle breeze

Balm for my soul

Nothing that can’t be cured

With the ocean and the rising sun

Boy in my class asking will you be back

Toothless grin, yes 

Spring break here we come

Colleagues checking you out 

“Ein Fell aus weicher Wut” 

On the patio laughing loud

Threesomes and anagrams

Balm for my soul

Land of the Long White Cloud

Pale green slopes speckled with white baby sheep

Yellow heather hiding in brown thorny shrubs

Purple wildflowers

Proclaiming spring

Grey streams rolling over rough rocky beds

Feeding deep icy blue lakes

Silver ferns and lush green palms 

Swaying in the crisp blue alpine air

Balm for my soul

Blue mountain range in the distance 

Powdered by white fresh snow

Black tree silhouettes

Hugged by ominous clouds

Endless shades of grey

In the quiet of the silvery morning light

The last drop of fiery red 

Making this land

Blush humbly in the rising sun

Balm for my soul

Queen of danger

Partner in crime

Together on a Manly mission

To live intensely excessively or die

Über sieben bridges

Running, walking, talking this town

Thinking with your fingers

Sculptures by the Sea

Bondi babes forever

Balm for my soul

Sky on fire

Red flames licking the burning sun

Hazy eerie orange daze 

A beautiful kind of pain

Running tripping falling and repeat

Falling

Leaving

The golden sand for white winter snow

My sacred solitude for all that is mine

Balm for my soul

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas: fake Christmas trees and Santa hats, palm trees wrapped in evergreen garlands and the shopping mall Santa looking not that jolly. Who can blame him – with temperatures rising, none of the traditional signs of Christmas make much sense down here. So why not celebrate the season with all the beautiful things Australia has to offer.

It started early. Really early. On July 25, to be exact. I had just arrived in Sydney and was greeted by Yulefest and Christmas Markets. Beachside skating and Winter Magic. Christmas in July. It’s thing in southern hemisphere countries like Australia. Happens in the middle of (the Australian) winter in addition to the real deal in December.  New Zealand and South Africa do it and so did my school: Christmas Market at the German International School Sydney.

Maybe the coolest month of the year, but with temperatures around 20 degrees, sunshine and bright blue skies, July still did not exactly feel very christmassy to me. Which made practising Christmas carols and creating festive decorations with the students feel kind of weird. Waffles and German sausage, Glühwein (hot mulled wine) and Christmas carols. A bizarre, and almost surreal, yet surprisingly pleasant event in my new home away from home.

Fast forward a few months. Christmas all over. The real thing this time. The feeling even more strange and unreal. It is hard to get into the Christmas spirit with heat waves and bushfires, water restrictions and smoke in the air. Yet, there are sure signs all around me, signalling the arrival of the most wonderful time of the year. Christmas season – Australian style.

First sign of Christmas: Halloween is over!

Just like back home, Halloween rings in the beginning of the Christmas season in Down under. Should have known that this year everything would be different when looking at the way Halloween was celebrated here. Where I’m from, Halloween is a day where you can dress up as whatever you like. It’s a fantasy and you can be, even if just for a day, anything you always wanted to be. I dressed up as an angel obviously!  Australian costumes, however, are all about the blood and the gore. We had little ones starting to cry when they saw my colleagues dressed up like what could have been the survivors of a chainsaw massacre. Good thing we had an angel present to comfort the traumatised students.

Second sign of Christmas: Santa at the beach

The infamous Bouddi Trail Run. The final stretch along the beach. In the distance the faint silhouette of a familiar bright red hat. Was is hallucinating already or was that really Santa Claus standing in the sand? Yup, fully cloaked in his trademark coat, with his white long beard and big black boots. I wanted to snap a picture, but I had a race to finish. Christmas and the beach go hand in hand together in Australia. Sandman vs snowman. Surfing vs skating. Board shorts vs red suit. Thongs vs boots. Someone get this poor hot fellow a pair of those!

Third sign of Christmas: Christmas attire

You won’t see anyone wearing ugly Christmas sweaters, because there really is not too many people wearing sweaters in this weather anyway. Or anything, really. No shirt, no shoes, no pants… I’ve seen it all at my local grocery store! You will, however, spot an increasing number of people sporting Christmas hats and reindeer antlers, Christmas shaped sunnies and Snowman Hawaiian Shirts. Board shorts and thongs and a Santa hat. Merry Christmas everyone!

Fourth sign of Christmas: Christmas decorations

Decorating your house for Christmas can be a bit of a competitive sport back home. Having been called The House of no Christmas, needless to say that I am not a big fan of blinking Christmas lights and inflatable Santas on my lawn. I like the subtle way of decorating your home in Australia: ferns and palm leaves, evergreens and sea shells. Colourful flowers like the Christmas Bush, gorgeous blooms everywhere. And, yes, the obligatory small plastic tree on front porch.

Fifth sign of Christmas: Christmas treats

Choccie (chocolate) and lollies (candy). Gingerbread houses. Tim Tam bikkies in the staff room. Not only is it Christmas soon, but report card time, and anything sweet goes to help you make it to the holidays. A crate full of cherries, lemon tarts and mince pie. And, of course, delicious fruity pavlova dessert.

The Sixth Sign of Christmas: Christmas Markets and Carols by Candlelight 

You won’t find much mulled wine and gingerbread cookies at the local Christmas Markets, but you will encounter plenty of Christmas cheer. And if you want, you can do so every weekend leading up to Christmas. Starting at the top of the Northern Beaches, you have the Palm Beach Market, Avalon Market, Newport Market, Mona Vale Xmas Market and so on, all the way down to Sydney with its famous Christmas market at The Rocks. Though the locations may change, the idea is always the same. A vast array of stalls selling fashion, jewellery, and crafts. Gourmet food stalls and pretty good live music. And if that’s not enough to get you in the spirit, there are Christmas Carol Concerts as well, with young and old singing favourite tunes by the light of the setting (bright orange) sun and candle light.

The Seventh Sign of Christmas: Christmas Songs

Teaching kids in Australia traditional Christmas songs can be a challenge sometimes. How do you explain snow slowly falling (Leise rieselt der Schnee) or trees losing their leaves in the fall (Oh Tannenbaum)? And don’t get my started on Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer. Shouldn’t it be kangaroos pulling that sleigh (Six White Boomers) or Santa riding on a surfboard? And why are we leaving milk and cookies, err, I mean bikkies, if a roadie (beer for the road) and a sangie (sandwich) would be so much better for Santa on the go?

The Eighth Sign of Christmas: The Family Christmas Party

The porch beautifully decorated with fern leaves and fairy lights, tables set for lunch outside, Secret Santa presents piled around the small fake Christmas tree, the sound of the ocean and  cicadas in the distance (the screaming of the kookaburra, however, painfully near). And yes, I kid you not, shrimps on the barbie! My dreams of an Australian family Christmas coming true. 

The Ninth Sign of Christmas: The Staff Christmas Party

After a few stressful weeks at school with exams and report card writing, concert rehearsals and regular melt downs (from both students and staff), this was exactly what I needed: nicely decorated tables set against the backdrop of the beach and the ocean sea. The sun setting in a bushfiry orange haze. And to make it the perfect night to celebrate with my colleagues and friends – dolphins jumping playfully close to the shoreline (again, I’m not making this up!). The perfect ending to a long semester.

When people are usually looking forward to Christmas and summer and school holidays, this year the outlook might not be as sunny and bright. With almost 150 fires in the region still burning, producing smoke and dust that create at times hazardous air quality ratings, there might be the fear that Australia is heading towards ominous times. With children at school complaining of headaches, sore throats, watering eyes and nose bleeds, the stereotypical beachside Australian summer still seems a long way off. 

I often get asked, how all this affects me and my time in Sydney. And sadly, I have to admit, you get used to anything fairly quickly. Waking up to the smell of smoke in the morning sometimes, the rising sun above the ocean a deep dark red from the dust particles in the air, smoke clouds  covering the blue sky, turning it into a hazy orange glow. 

But yet there is so much beauty this place has to offer, especially during this time of year. The beautiful colours everywhere, bright orange mangoes, pink watermelons and deep dark red cherries, the smell of flowers blossoming, the sounds of the ocean and the cicadas waking up. 

I love this place. Merry Christmas everyone!

“ I’d love to hold a koala. They sleep 22 hours a day, eat eucalyptus leaves and just hang out. I want to spend some time with that guy.”

Milo

Top of my things-to-do-in-Australia bucket list: take a goofy picture of me holding a koala like everyone else does. An Australian symbol, this aww-inducing marsupial will melt even the coldest heart. One of the cutest animals in the world, and cool as well. And very chill. Ah, I just love koalas! 

And so here it is – a small tribute to one of the world’s most iconic animal species that is on the verge of becoming extinct.

The week after the great bushfires in Australia’s Southeast. I wake up to the smell of fire in the air. For the second time in one week, smoke from the over 50 bushfires that are still burning in the area, is blowing into the Sydney area. The closest fire in Wollemi National Park, 100 km from my place, by now the size of almost 200.000 hectares. Or 130.000 football fields. Causing the trail in Bouddi National Park, where only a week ago I had my infamous run, to be closed. Leaving Sydney in a smoky haze, air quality plummeting to hazardous levels.

Teachers on duty wearing face masks, children kept inside for recess, outdoor physical activities cut back to a bare minimum. The bush keeps burning, people losing their houses, animals are dying. 

But amidst all the doom and gloom and haze, little glimmers of hope. The Year 3 class is putting on a Save the Koalas! Bake Sale. All proceeds going to the Port Macquarie Koala Hospital. A place looking after sick and injured koalas affected by the recent NSW bushfires. 

The numbers vary – depending on whom you believe. Between 350 and 1000 koalas have been killed by the latest bushfires. 80% of their habitat destroyed. Their status changing from the recent “vulnerable” to “in danger”or “on the brink of going functionally extinct’. A species disappearing slowly in front of your eyes. Deforestation and bushfires having destroyed their main nutrient source: the eucalyptus tree. A koala eats up to two pounds of leaves a day. At the same time it takes months for these trees to grow back after a fire, leaving the koalas with no suitable food source. They starve.

The kids raised almost $1000 with their bake sale – money that may go to projects like”Koala Ark” – a refuge for burnt koalas, or koala drinking stations. Amazing! Good on you!

So what? You may ask. What’s so special about the koala. All it does is eat and sleep. And they are actually not that cute. Can be quite vicious with their sharp teeth and claws. Their roar is terrifying. And they smell pretty bad, especially the male ones that have an overpowering musky odor from a gland on their chest they rub against everything to leave their mark. Almost makes me not want to hold one anymore. Australian icon or not.

Not every animal has an obvious service it provides for the ecosystem. The koala is a “eucalypt mower”, a nutrient provider to other animals and prey to a variety of carnivores. And it has some pretty neat features that I didn’t know about. It took my Year 1 animal presentations to teach me a thing or two about the koala.

Fun Fact 1

Koala bears are actually not bears. They just look like bears. They are marsupials. Pouch animals to carry their babies around. And if that’s not enough – the koala’s pouch is upside down! Not very practical it seems, considering the fact that they sit in trees all day. But, to keep the young one from falling out, they have super strong muscle, like a drawstring, to close that bag. And the baby knows to hold on for dear life – with their claws and mouth inside mommy’s pouch.

Fun Fact 2

Koalas only exist in the south-east of Australia. You can find them sitting high up in eucalyptus trees of the native bushland, usually perched between the forks of the tree’s branches. I only saw one at a Wildlife Park west of Sydney. So did John Travolta, by the way.

Fun Fact 3

The koala has a super tough butt, just like the wombat. Which comes in handy when you have to sit all day. A feature I wouldn’t mind having, especially during report card times like these. My very own built-in cushion. Very handy!

Fun Fact 4 

Koalas seem to have everything double. Two thumbs on each hand. Two toes on the back on each of their feet. Two vaginas. And a two headed penis. I’m not making this up – you go google it. That’s what I did – it’s not something you learn in Year 1 science. Apparently, koalas have a super tiny brain, though – the size of a walnut. And only one! Not two.

Fun Fact 5

They eat a kilo of eucalyptus leaves a day, which is pretty amazing, especially considering the fact that they are poisonous to most animals. What helps them is some kind of special digestive organ that detoxifies the chemicals in the leaves. Also very practical, thinking of my wine consumption these days.

Fun Fact 5

The koala gets its name from the aboriginal word koolah, meaning no drink. The koala usually gets all his water from the eucalyptus leaves. The recent drought, however, has left the leaves dry and the koalas thirsty. Koala drinking stations help them through heat waves and water shortages. (I could make an analogy here, but I won’t. Still, wouldn’t mind a drinking station at my place, but then my name isn’t “no drink”, is it?!)

Fun Fact 6

They sleep pretty much all day, up to 20 hours! Not because they are lazy or high, but simply to conserve energy, as the eucalyptus leaves do not provide very much nutrients (which makes me kind of wonder why they are eating them at all – poisonous and useless? Beats me. I guess they  smell nice – like cough drops.) A bit like the chicken schnitzel bun I order for lunch at school. You eat the whole thing, only to feel sleepy right after, because – let’s be honest – there isn’t too much goodness in that thing. Probably poisonous too – just like them leaves.

Not So Fun Fact 7

The Australian icon, the koala, could eventually lose the fight against climate change, habitat destruction, disease, cars…

So here is to bake sales and local heros and anybody and anything that raises awareness of the importance of protecting the koala and the environment. It takes a village.

I leave you with some pictures from The Hello Koala Sculpture Trail in Sydney, where 20 different sculptures hand painted by Australian artists, where exhibited throughout the city, showing the uniqueness of the little fellow, who’s mantra I swear by – especially during report cards times!!!