After almost a decade of living in Berlin as an expat, a juicy PhD offer Down Under enticed me back to the homeland indefinitely. Shortly after arriving back in Australia the COVID-19 pandemic wreaked havoc across the world, removing all reference to normality.

After the coronavirus went global, governments around the world launched repatriation efforts to bring back thousands of citizens stranded abroad. Two friends of mine were among those caught out.

Sydneysider Katelin Meredith has been living in Berlin for nearly a year. When the coronavirus closed off most of the city, she listed all the things she wants to do when life gets going again.

Berlin’s first reported COVID-19 case was diagnosed on 1 March, 2020. Since then, it’s certainly been a month to remember in the German capital. Infections have grown and Berliners have come to realise the extent of the crisis.

Even before the recent closure of Berlin’s theatres and galleries due to coronavirus, life in the German capital was getting tougher for artists. 

When you live 16,000 km from home, what foods do you miss the most? Supplying expats with edible memories is big business—and another form of German-Australian cultural exchange.

Over the years, Berlin has increasingly become a hyped international hub for globalised living, a cool factor which can often overshadow the charms of the rest of Germany. I took a short trip north to get acquainted with the country’s second most populated city.

Germany is a world leader when it comes to up-scaling sustainably grown produce. Foodtech entrepreneur Anne-Kathrin Kuhlemann is now taking "bio" to the next level, with her organic fish farm in the heart of Berlin.

Time away from Berlin helped Australian writer Vijay Khurana realise what he truly loved about it. One landmark in particular sums up his attraction to the city’s unique opportunities.

While many early co-working spaces were set up in the United States, Berlin also had a hand in the development of this global trend. Today the German capital hosts countless mixed offices, from creative community clubhouses to slick franchises.

One of my favourite novelties of being an Australian expat in Germany used to be the snowy festive seasons, a Disney-esque delight that global warming seems to be eradicating from modern-day life in Berlin.

Rachel O’Reilly’s documentary film Infractions is the culmination of years of research, artwork and interviews addressing unconventional gas and its relationship to contemporary art and culture in Australia. A recent preview screening in Berlin featured a Q&A with both the director and a star of the doco.

When one thinks of film culture in Germany’s capital, it’s typically the Berlinale that springs to mind. But for cinephiles with a penchant for the short format, it’s another event that whets the appetite for cinematic magic each year. The interfilm Berlin festival is a short movie bonanza that attracts a big audience.

This month marks the 30th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. While celebrations a decade ago were muted, this time around the German capital plans on pulling out all the stops. But, it seems like not everyone has moved on from a separated Germany.   
 

The escalation of Berlin’s housing crisis has become exponential, with skyrocketing rents and a growing shortage of flats fast reaching breaking point. Luke felt the heat first-hand after unexpectedly finding himself in need of a new home.
 

More than 20 million people around the world play netball. But almost none of them live in Germany. In fact, you’d be hard pressed to find a German who has even heard of this classic Commonwealth game. Yet an underground of expat teams exists in Germany and throughout Europe – and last year, Berlin joined the fold.
 

It’s that time of year again: the leaves are beginning their annual metamorphosis and the nights are starting to feel ominously fresh. While these are the elegiac signs of Berlin’s darker months fast approaching, they also signify the build-up to one of the most vibrant affairs of the year in Germany’s capital: Berlin Art Week.

About an hour outside Berlin lies a magical, swampy forest. The ancient growth is dissected by a series of picturesque streams and canals, making it irresistible to otters, dragonflies and tourists in fibreglass watercraft.

Recent times have seen a number of iconic Berlin clubs close down, sparking fears among partygoers about the future of a city that built its modern identity around the allures and ideals of underground club culture.


 

The 2018 European heatwave was a shock to the system for Berlin. The city is simply not built for hot weather. While there are plenty of nearby lakes where you can cool off, virtually no-one has air conditioning at home.

It’s an age-old predicament: everyone wants a bite of the juiciest fruit. Of course, the more the word gets around about where to find the fruit, the more people flock there to get a taste for themselves.

Once a year I’m invited to attend a meeting of all the flat owners in my building. Many of the attendees are owner-occupiers like me. Unlike me, a large number of them are (former) East Germans over the age of 60. This annual ritual provides an interesting snapshot of the people living behind the concrete facades of our Plattenbau and a chance to witness micro-scale German bureaucracy in action.

Every summer Berlin takes advantage of the ‘Pfingsten’ long weekend to throw a massive multicultural street party called ‘Karneval der Kulturen’.

One of the constitutional shifts I’ve noticed in myself over the years of living in Germany has to do with my attitude towards resources. A holistic German attitude towards material supplies—one that involves striving to use only what you need and making the most of what you’ve got. The prudent life.

The first of May is a significant date in the German calendar. It’s a celebration of the long-awaited spring, it’s a national public holiday, a day of protest, and an opportunity to dance around a large wooden pole and drink strong beer.

Feeling like a stranger in your hometown is a hoary old expat trope—duly noted, cease fire. But why exactly is the cliché so resonant among long-term expats in reality?

What can the misfits, rebels and bohemians of early 20th century Germany tell us about contemporary life?

Over the years I’ve shown dozens of visiting Australian and European friends around my adopted hometown of Berlin. But recently I found myself playing tour guide in Melbourne, a place where my local knowledge is woefully out of date. Instead of bluffing my way through the sights of the city, I decided to go bush with my international guest.

A couple of months back I chalked up the eight year anniversary of my Berlin affair. Aside from triggering the annual shock over how swiftly the years hurtle by in Germany’s ever-bewitching capital, the occasion got me feeling sentimental about the past and ruminating on the future.

Exercising outdoors becomes quite unappetising in winter, so my Danish friend and I meet regularly to play badminton at a local sports centre. It’s a welcome relief to be able to peel off those heavy layers of clothing, regain full mobility of our limbs and run around for an hour chasing a small feathered ball. After we have “done sport”, as the Germans say, we sometimes head to the sauna...