Berlin...Six months in.

What a whirlwind this romance has been. Eighteen months ago I met a man, a lovely man and we fell in love. It felt so right when we moved in together. Life was wonderful in our little art-deco apartment in Marrickville with our sunny kitchen and spacious quarters. Then a holiday to Germany changed everything. We were both offered jobs in his home town, Berlin. This was an amazing turn of events in a city where people struggle to find work. We could hardly refuse. So on our one year anniversary we very romantically boarded a plane for the long journey to Europe. Our excess baggage was safely stowed in the cargo hold and the rest of our things were making slow passage across the seas to meet us in a few months.

The weather was beautiful when we arrived. Hot and sunny with blue skies and lush greenery everywhere. Berlin is 18% forests as a result of the Berlin wall. The people in the West needed to have their recreational areas inside the wall and so there are now very luxurious expanses of wilderness and forests just moments from the bustling city. The city is also riddled with ribbons of river. Bars lounged along the banks of the Spree all summer long, serving ice-cold beverages and soft salty brezels. Close to our accommodations (my fella's mother's apartment) was a lake called Schlachtensee. We were able to cycle there as the city itself is flat and cycle paths are everywhere *. That first visit to the lake had me awestruck. It was nestled in a little forest. Naked people were everywhere, relaxing in the grass or the water. People strolled and cycled along the dirt path that skirted the waters edge. Children splashed and dogs barked. We hired a rowboat and made our way to the middle of the quiet end of the lake. It was so hot and beautiful I took courage from the nudity of those around me, stripped off and leapt in. That water on my skin was something I will never forget. Coming from Australia I can honestly say there are two times in my life I have swum in fresh water. Once was a waterfall in Northern Queensland and once was a waterfall in Thailand. Both experiences were of freezing cold, hard water. This lovely green lake in Berlin was refreshing but not chilling, smooth and soft and luscious. I couldn't touch the bottom and there were no waves bashing me about. There was no sand or salt on my skin as I basked in the sunlight afterwards to dry. Most surprisingly, I didn't get burned.

That first week of lake swimming, city cycling and beer garden dwelling was blissful. All too quickly it was over and I was flung into my new role as English teacher in a bilingual school. The first week was all professional development... in German. I had no idea what was going on despite the kind translations from some of the more proficient bilingual staff. It was hot in the building as well, so concentrating on my smattering of this beautifully ugly language was a real issue. The children arrived the next week and without the scaffolding of a syllabus I had to take in as much information as I could, as quickly as I could. I had to get to know a timetable that meant classes changed at strange times without bells. I had to read schedules with abbreviations of words in a language I didn't understand. Frequently I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The staff around me were really supportive and understanding. They calmed me when I was feeling frantic, untangled me when I was confused and encouraged me when I felt ineffective.

The weeks passed and the Autumn holidays came and went. I just rested, I needed it. Homesickness peaked and waned, resurged and passed. Each month my man and I found some lovely adventure to have. We visited Rugen in the North, Venice, Dublin, Oktoberfest and Salzberg. We had friends visit before Christmas just as we managed to find and move into our own place. My mum came and stayed over Christmas. We had a wonderful festive season filled with lights and the famous Christmas markets. It was busy and filled with food, drinks and parties. Then suddenly the lights went out, the friends and family departed and I have been left in a Berlin that is cold and very grey. There are no leaves on the trees and not much snow on the ground. There is gravel everywhere to prevent people slipping when there is snow. This makes the city feel dirty and unkempt. The beer gardens are closed and the cheerful sparrows are hiding. The sun hardly ever comes out. When it does it seems a long way away and the lack of cloud cover makes it even colder than before. I feel as though there is very little to do, especially as people are still allowed to smoke in bars here (unofficially allowed) and it's too cold to sit outside. I could go and visit galleries and museums and I probably should (I promised mum I'd be well versed on the best ones when she comes back next) but for some reason the motivation is not there. I'm craving the sunshine and the feel of that lake water against my skin again.

It's the first winter that is said to be the hardest. The stretch between New Years and the first buds of spring particularly. I think I will cave and visit Australia before winter properly breaks this year. Whatever gets me through. My adopted home will call me back and I'm sure I will fall in love with her again when the sun comes out. It has been a roller-coaster ride with distinctive ups and downs. It has been undeniably difficult, more difficult than any other overseas adventure I have had, perhaps because it's for the long term. I try hard to avoid thinking of our blissful Marrickville life with friends around the block and yum-cha at the corner. Despite the drudgery of this winter, I know that summer in our own place in Berlin will be spectacular. I know that the beauty and bliss of this place in warmer times will eclipse my memories of these short, grey days. I know that this city will then capture my heart for good, and I think on all of this while reminding myself that summer is less than six months away.

* A tip: When you first arrive in Berlin these cycle paths are bound to catch you unawares. The paths run along the road or the footpath and the cyclists move in the same direction as traffic. You must be aware and check for bikes as you get out of either side of a car and also as you get out of buses. They come up quick and Berliners are quite happy to shout at you if you get in their way.