Home away from home

I stepped off the train in Ansbach on a chilly winter’s evening, with an overwhelming sense that I was coming home. My host mother Meike waited for me, and I was thrilled to finally see her again.

Ansbach will always hold a special place in my heart – being the first place I ventured to when I set out into the big wide world at the tender age of 16. It holds so many special memories, and every time I return I find myself wandering the familiar streets, remembering odd bits and pieces about my exchange here in 2009. Again, I only had a couple of days here, but the purpose of hopping all over Bavaria isn’t really to see towns, but to see the people that are a large part of my life, and spend time with them. I constantly remind myself how lucky I am to have such connections and opportunities. Having said that, times in Ansbach are always memorable. Both of Meike and Martin’s children have moved out, so it was just us three there, and it was fabulous to catch up with my German parents. We spent our time drinking a lot of tea and chatting, going for meals together, and especially Meike and I spent long afternoons wandering around public parks, or window shopping in the city, or getting lunch together. Amidst a flash of German films, food, day drives up to the country and simply talking for hours on end, I couldn’t have been happier. My German is better than ever before, and all the old friends we met commented on the progress they’ve noticed with my language over the past 2-year intervals…I cringe to think how utterly shocking it must have been at 16, but nonetheless I did my best. I think I did a lot of smiling and waving, boys.

Meike

A few things have changed here in Ansbach – some good, some bad. Like I said, I have an overwhelming sense of emotions; I’m happy, nostalgic, and sad all at once. Walking one day with Meike through the city, I realised that the up-till-now-relatively-non-existent pangs of homesickness have started to kick in – I don’t know if it’s because I am now in a place I would call home, with people I would call my family, and it’s all too familiar – a reminder of the things I have been living without for the past 6 months. Nonetheless, like a pregnant women when her water breaks – I sort of stopped and looked curious for a minute, questioning exactly what was going on when I realised I felt a tad sad. Uhhh…ohhh nooo, just when a women knows her water has broken, but she still needs to stop and consider it for a minute, I thought; ‘oh no, I know what this is’. I’ve been doing so well, but I suppose it just made me think; that maybe in 2 weeks I’ll be ready to come home after all. And then I’ll be watching telly or a film or something, and they’ll be a special moment between friends, and it’ll bring a tear to my eye. On Grey’s Anatomy, when the doc save the patient and they tell the spouse – it’s waterwork central over here. I don’t know what is up. But it’s safe to say that I’m rather emotional here. In this city. In this house. And it’s quite a bother.

B&W

But yes – things that have stayed the same; me. Although obviously I’ve changed dramatically in the last 5 years (I remember last time I was here in 2012 Meike and Martin were somewhat ‘startled’ to realise I know had a nose ring, cropped short purple hair and a whole lot of attitude), this time around, my appearance has somewhat faltered from that, but I am sporting the exact same haircut as when I was 16. A little shorter, but essentially the same. I also unpacked my pack, and realised that I actually a) still own some clothes from when I was 16 and b) had actually packed the same clothes I wore on exchange with me. So one day I plodded around in the same clothes as 16-year-old me. Who would’ve thought.

It was sort of like'bring your kids to work day' as I hopped around to Meike's work, Martin's practice, Meike's BodyMed studio...the littler Australian tottering in to be doted on 

Working out with German-engineered electrodes

Things that have changed – they’ve moved house. Tragic. Meike and I went back, to the abandoned house that I loved so dearly, and I cried. I literally sat in my empty room and cried.

Like any childhood house, we grow attached to the place we lived and as I walked the empty corridors I couldn’t help but remember how we hitched out advent calendars up the stairwell, how the Christmas tree almost didn’t fit into the living room the Christmas of ’09, how Marieke played her guitar here, how last time I was here in 2012, I slept in the attic room and contemplated the beginning of my life after high school. I remember the dramas, the ‘problems’ in my life, the things that made me happy, the things that made me sad, what I thought was important, what I looked like, how little I knew – at 16, 18 and now 20 years old in my lifespan. The timeline of my life. I remember waking up in my room the first morning in Germany, how excited and thrilled I’d been. I remember sitting for hours at my window, watching the first snow fall that I’d ever seen. Meike finally coxed me out of the room, but almost cried too. Dice and I made a promise that when we’re 40+ we’re taking a trip to Ireland and renting a studio cottage there for an indefinite amount of time so we can write our autobiographies. The autobiography of my life. Dice, I think I’d best start now, before I’m old and dribbly and probably have dementia and forget too much.

Good friend of Meike's Petra

Old house *heart thumps*

Sniff sniff

My room~

Dem window views

Shutting the door on the house, we had to move on. It was time. But for me – it was super sad. At least my real home in Eltham will be there for me upon return. The days where I wandered through the town were bittersweet – our favourite café hangout for all the cool German kids, I returned to the Hoffgarten where the German boy who had a crush on me from school made me a snowman, I walked the streets where I once got lost, the shops where I bought souvenirs, the marketplace where the Christmas markets are set up every year. It was bittersweet, and although some things change, I guess some things also never do; things like family, people that will always call you their ‘daughter’ regardless of lineage and nationality, people that opened your eyes to the world and another culture, another language, another way of living. Just like my real parents at home - German fathers will chuckle and feign worry about your interdependent travel alone, German mothers will still cry as you walk away to leave them again, with the brave smile and look back across your shoulder, saying ‘please don’t cry’ whilst the tears sting your eyes, promising that you’ll be back and that this isn’t goodbye.

If the past 5 years are anything to go by, it’s never goodbye.