Victoria's bushfire hell.

It's pretty rare that Australia makes the German news. The last time that happened was to announce the death of Heath Ledger in January of 2008, so when it does happen, it gets my attention. It's also very unlikely that the news is good.

I had known that the temperatures in my home state of Victoria and the neighbouring states of New South Wales and South Australia had been scorchingly high of late, with all three states experiencing multiple days of 45ºC and over, temperatures significantly above the normal summer highs of 40ºC, so it was only a matter of time until the first bushfire reports would begin to trickle through. Bushfires are a part of summer in Australia; some years are worse than others, for example Ash Wednesday of 1983, and the horrific Black Friday of 1939, both of which claimed many lives. Usually though, the maximum toll is limited to several hundred hectares of bush, some sheds and livestock, and occasionally some houses which were in the path of the fire. Very rarely are lives lost.

As soon as I heard the words "Australia" and "bushfire" in the Berlin radio news recently though, I knew that this could not be your average bushfire season, especially since the piece had made it all the way up the list to second billing behind the latest developments in the German financial crisis. I kept listening, and what I heard shocked me into silence.

Thirty-one fire fronts across the state. 330,000 hectares burnt out. Entire towns razed to the ground. 750 homes destroyed. 108 people confirmed dead, with this number rising all the time as more towns were reached. Thousands of people homeless. Emergency services working around the clock to bring the infernoes under control.

The worst part? Some of the fires are suspected to have been deliberately lit. The notion that anyone would concieve of lighting a match and setting it to the tinderbox that south-eastern Australia had become during the heatwave of the previous two weeks is nothing short of horrifically sickening. In one fell swoop, one or two individuals had created the worst bushfires in Australian history. Lives of innocent people have been extinguished, homes have been destroyed, communities decimated, and countless volunteers have, without a second thought, put their own lives at risk to fight bushfires which need never have been fought.

I know there's nothing I could do even if I was at home. But being this far away is torture - hearing via online reports and Berlin radio news updates that my home state is an deadly inferno is very difficult to handle. The fact that, as far as I know, my family and friends are very fortunately all safe, reassures me. But just because I don't know the hundreds of families who have been affected doesn't mean I'm not thinking of them, or that I'm any less upset.

This post was partly inspired by the ever-eloquent MD; therefore, I conclude with a brief quote from my favourite Inspector Rex fan.

"Love those around you. Hold them tight, tell them that you love them and never, ever let them forget it. ... Like most Victorians, I have friends affected by this - and some we're yet to hear from. If you've any prayers going spare, we could use them. ... So tonight, do me a favour. Hug someone you love. Tell them you love them. If not for you, then for all those who can't."

And my request to you? Pray for rain and a cool change, and an end to the inferno. Then tell your family and friends how much they mean to you, because there are 108 people who will never get the chance again.

Lightbulb moments

Today was a brilliant day. Today, I had the rare opportunity of being reminded of exactly why I love to teach, and how much I miss teaching regularly.

It didn't start out that way. For the first five hours of my six hour shift, I was practically chained to the front desk - fielding calls, making appointments, answering questions, with brief sojourns into the kitchen to make coffee for clients.

At the start of the final hour, a colleague emerged from a meeting to relieve me - not a moment too soon. I had just got off the phone with a particularly challenging student, and in the ten minutes that she talked at me, six students had gathered at the reception counter demanding my immediate attention, a prospective client was asking for information on an English course, not to mention the incoming calls on the other line.

Five minutes of teamwork, and calm was restored. I seized the chance to escape from behind the desk, and headed into the back of the school to check the state of the main classroom. After refilling the pens and cleaning an explanation of possessive pronouns off the whiteboard, I ventured into the computer lab. Everything looked to be in order, and I was just about to leave when I heard my name being called.

I turned around, and saw the eager face of one of the newer students smiling at me over his computer."Hi, L. What's up?"

He was working on a grammar exercise practising the conditional mood, but despite having read the explanation and asking one of the other students for help, he still didn't understand. The memory of sitting in a university tutorial room in Clayton with two of my best friends trying to get our heads around the very same topic in German was still fresh enough in my mind that I could sympathise with his confusion, so I pulled a chair over, sat down next to him at his computer, and opened up the grammar book.

For the next fifteen minutes, we worked through the explanation and some of the activities. He seemed to be getting it, so when we got to the end of the page, I asked him to explain it back to me. To his amazement, he did it perfectly. When he finished, the look on his face is one that I will never forget. The golden moment of comprehension. The lightbulb moment. The "Aha!" moment. That expression was all the thanks I needed.

He looked at me, smiling, and said thank you. "No worries," I replied, and stood up, heading for the door. What happened next was the icing on the cake. The student he had previously asked for help had got up from her computer and was standing next to L; I heard her ask him in German to explain to her what I'd just explained to him, and you can imagine how proud I felt of him to hear him pass on the explanation.

That one fleeting moment made my day all that much better. The knowledge that I had been able to help a student understand something which previously had been a mystery to him, and seeing the realisation on his face when he discovered he had figured it out, was invaluable. It reminded me that regardless of the office politics, the problem students and the unrelenting chaos of the reception desk, the most rewarding thing about teaching for me is, and always will be, moments like that: having the opportunity to take the time to help a student understand that which was previously shrouded in mystery and confusion, and to use that feeling of achievement to encourage and motivate them to continue learning.

Those rare golden moments of realisation are the reason I teach. You can never see them coming, and you can go for days or even weeks without experiencing a moment like that, but when you do, for one blissful moment, it makes everything else seem trivial; somehow, it makes all the chaos, all the late nights and early mornings, and all your extra effort worthwhile.

The Winds Of Change

The winds of change are in the air. Still in Hamburg, and still plodding along at work, but two events have taken place, which resulted in an admission of error and a decision to make a change to fix that error.

Event number 1 - a weekend sailing on the Baltic with some of my Berlin friends. Possibly the best way to chill and clear your head in northern Germany - or anywhere, for that matter. Sea air, good friends, German beer, northern German dice games at 1am, some good conversation, and a few days away from Hamburg and work - ah, bliss. Also inspiration from Harold and Maude to not worry so much about what other people think of you.

Event number 2 - one of these friends told me something that I had actually known subconsciously for a long time: I think too much. I over-analyse things. And not just the life-changing, monumental issues - the tiny stuff, that in a matter of weeks, days, or in many instances, hours, will have been long relegated to the file "Not worth remembering".

This leads me to a question: am I alone here? How many of you actually nodded in sympathetic agreement whilst reading the above admission? Changing my FB status alone to reflect this new mindset of "less thinking, more doing" resulted in a wall post and an instant message within half an hour. I welcome your comments.

Event 1 + Event 2 = Result: I am moving back to Berlin. Soon - within a fortnight. Reasons vary: work, friends & (substitute) family, and instinct/gut feeling/mindset.

First, the job is not at all what I thought it would be. I'm not someone who enjoys working completely alone. I need to have people around me both at work and in general with a similarly positive and enthusiastic outlook, for mutual motivation and support. I am also someone with ambition and direction. I need to know that both myself and the company I work for are going somewhere, that what I do at work actually has a purpose in the grand scheme of things. Hamburg doesn't fit the bill for me at the moment.

Second, my friends and one of my German families are in Berlin, and I truly miss them. Fair enough, I've only been in Hamburg for three weeks, which is definitely not enough to create a friendship group here, but I already have a circle of friends in Berlin, which is enough of a reason for me to seriously consider going back.

Third - I'm in a Berlin state of mind, to quote Mr Joel. I'm not finished with that city, and I want to maximise my time there. It's an incredible city and I feel just as much at home there as I do in my native Melbourne. Sounds strange to most of you, but I know at least Blonde Canadian knows how I feel. I need to go back there.

So, it will be "Goodbye Hamburg - nice knowing you", and a reunion with my beloved Berlin next weekend. That prospect alone is already giving me the motivation to continue through this week.
I'll keep you posted.

Welcome, allerseits!

Welcome to the grand premiere my very own blog. Regular requests from many of you and a significant amount of guilt have motivated me to follow the genius advice of a certain Blonde Canadian, who is neither blonde nor Canadian, and to set up a blog for myself.

So, here goes nothing. There’s a whole lot of stuff that most of you haven’t heard about, mostly because I’ve been flat out like the proverbial lizard for the last three months; travelling, occasionally teaching, travelling, sorting stuff out, and yes, some travelling. Those of you on Facebook would be the most up to date. I think the last time I sent out an email was in February, but don’t quote me on that. Yes, just checked, and that’s the latest. So, February, March, April, and May. I'll get to most of it eventually, but for the moment, we'll start small. And I love the comments almost as much as I love Allens Strawberries and Creams, so tell me what you think! :)

Los gehts!