Hello, I'm Alex and this is my little sister Olivia. Together with Mum, Dad and our dog Andy, we've been living in a small, dreamy town in Germany for two years – in a little house in the middle of town.
Yes, you read that right – only for two years!
Before we moved to Germany, we lived in Ireland – an island to the left of England in the Irish sea.
Ireland is like a huge green carpet of moss, so soft that you want to walk barefoot across it. Some people also call the country the Emerald Isle because it glows and sparkles everywhere, as if someone had scattered a thousand green gems across the hills.
Most people there speak English – and in some small, old villages you can even hear Gaelic, an ancient language that sounds like the wind singing through old stones.
Ireland doesn't have four distinct seasons like Germany does. It feels as if spring and autumn live there and never leave. In summer, it sometimes gets a little warmer, but rain is simply part of life there – fine, sparkling drops that fall on the meadows and make everything even greener.
And although Ireland lies on the Atlantic Ocean in the west, it's not as cold there as you might think. That's because of the warm Gulf Stream, which comes from faraway Mexico gently warms the sea around Ireland.
When the wind whistles over the hills and the seagulls circle in the sky, it smells of the sea, rain and adventure – that's the scent of Ireland.
I still remember our time in Ireland well.
Some days we walked across the soft, muddy meadows in our wellies. Sheep bleated everywhere and sometimes one would suddenly stand in the middle of the path and look at us curiously, as if to ask, 'Well, where are you two going?'
When it rained (and it did a little bit almost every day), we jumped in the puddles until our trousers were covered in splashes. Mum always laughed and said, 'Now you're real Irish kids!'
But the best thing about Ireland was hurling – the country's national sport!
Olivia and I were members of the Setanta GAA Dublin Club. On the green playing field, we raced after the small ball – the sliotar – with our wooden sticks, the hurls. The ball flew so fast that sometimes you could hardly follow it with your eyes.
When the referee blew his whistle and the crowd cheered, our eyes lit up with joy. Sometimes, when we had played particularly well, our teams were even allowed to compete against teams from other cities – and once our club won a trophy for Ireland!
'That was the best feeling in the world!' I said proudly as we held up the golden trophy and the whole stadium applauded.
Olivia grinned and said, 'And next time, I'll win it!'
After hurling practice, we would often sit down on the wet grass, exhausted but happy. The rain dripped quietly on our helmets while somewhere over the hills a rainbow appeared – as if Ireland itself were congratulating us.
In the evenings, when the wind whistled through the streets and the rain tapped on the windows, we sat by the warm fireplace. Outside, the sea roared in the distance, and inside, we talked about our hurling adventures with shining eyes.
That's how Ireland felt – green, wild, cheerful and full of little wonders.
Sometimes, when I think of Ireland, my heart feels a little heavy.
I miss our friends Sean and Calumn, my best friends. We always joked about who could hit the sliotar the furthest. Olivia also often talks about her best friend Gwen. The two of them sang together, laughed and collected colourful lucky stones, which they placed on the beach for the fairies to find.
And then there are Grandma and Grandpa from Ireland, who live in a small white house with blue shutters by the sea. It always smelled of salt and apple pie there, and Grandpa told us stories of Leprechaun jumping over the hills at night.
But at some point, Mum and Dad had to make a big decision. Our landlord wanted to sell the house – and we could never have afforded the price. Besides, everything was getting more expensive in Ireland: food, cloths, even milk! Mum often said, 'We can't go on like this forever.'
During all the hustle and bustle, Mum and Dad received some good news: they had both found great jobs in Germany – better paid and with more security for all of us. So, they decided that we would move.
Everyone helped us pack: our aunts, uncles, grandmother, grandfather and friends.
Grandma and Grandpa from Germany were eager to help us. They came with a large lorry from Germany and took the ferry from France to Ireland – it was a real adventure!
They spent a whole week packing boxes, furniture and toys with us.
In the end, the house was suddenly completely empty. Only the echoes of our footsteps reverberated through the rooms, and Olivia said quietly, 'It sounds like the house is saying goodbye.'
Now that our house was completely empty – no beds, no chairs, no tables – our footsteps echoed loudly through the rooms. It felt strange to spend the night where we had always lived. So, we stayed with Nana and Grandad for the last week.
Nana had washed our favourite bed linen, which smelled of lavender, and Grandad had made us hot chocolate that was so thick that the spoon almost got stuck in it.
Nevertheless, the mood was a little sad. Nana sometimes secretly wiped her eyes and Grandad stared out of the window for a long time at the sea, where the waves were crashing against the rocks.
'Don't be sad, Nana,' I said, taking her hand. 'We'll come and visit you every holiday!'
She smiled a little, even though her eyes were still full of tears.
Olivia sat down next to Grandad on the armchair and said cheerfully:
'The flight from Ireland to Germany only takes two and a half hours! That's almost as short as a hurling match! You can come and visit us quickly!'
Grandad laughed quietly, stroked her hair and said:
'Well, then we'll have to pack our bags soon.'
That evening, we sat together by the warm fire. It crackled and glowed, while the rain ran down the windows and the wind swirled over the hills outside.
Grandma told us a bedtime story about the fairies in the forest, and I thought: Maybe they'll fly with us – secretly in our luggage, so that a piece of Ireland comes with us.
A week later, we flew to Germany with two suitcases each. I remember it clearly: a large taxi picked us up from our old house. Olivia and I wanted to say goodbye to our house one last time, so Mum and Dad drove us there. Grandma and Grandpa and all our relatives and friends came along to say goodbye to us one last time before our flight.
When we arrived at Dublin Airport, everything was very exciting at first – a new adventure awaited us! But when the plane took off, it became quiet. Olivia and I pressed our noses against the window and watched as the green hills of Ireland grew smaller. They looked like a soft, green blanket of moss slowly disappearing beneath the clouds. Our hearts grew heavy. We held hands and cried quietly because we knew we were leaving our home, our friends and many wonderful memories behind.
When we finally landed in Berlin, everything was so different! Through the large windows of the airport, I saw lots of people wearing thick jackets and carrying suitcases. It was noisy everywhere and smelled of pretzels and coffee. 'Welcome to Germany!' said Dad, trying to smile, even though you could see that he was sad too.
Outside, the air was cold and clear, very different from Ireland. We packed our suitcases into the boot of Grandpa's car – Grandma and Grandad were already waiting with open arms. Grandma hugged us tightly and said, 'Well, my dears, you're finally here!'
The car ride to their house was quiet. I looked out the window and saw so many colourful lights, grey houses, and long, long streets. It all looked so big and bright!
Olivia soon fell asleep in the back seat while Grandad listened quietly to German songs on the radio. When we finally arrived at Grandma and Grandad's house, lights were already burning in all the windows, and it smelled of apple pie inside.
We couldn't move into our new house yet because it had to be completely refurbished and renovated first. There were boards, paint buckets, brushes and screws everywhere, and it smelled of fresh paint and wood.
To speed things up, everyone pitched in our aunt Manja, Leon, Grandma and Grandpa, Dad, Mum, Olivia and me. Dad assembled shelves, Mum painted the walls, Grandma and Grandpa cleaned the windows and helped tidy up. Even Olivia and I were allowed to help – we painted walls, chose pictures and decided which toys would go in which room.
I got the biggest room with a window that let the sunshine onto my desk. I was allowed to paint the wall in my favourite shade of blue and hang up my hurling posters and photos of my friends. Olivia had a room right beside me and painted her wall a light pink, and we were allowed to stick glittery stickers on the cupboards together.
It felt great to design our own little kingdom. Whenever we looked in, we could already sense it a little: soon this will be our real home!
Soon the autumn holidays were over, which meant it was time to start at our new school! A new school, in a new country, with a new language – it all felt a little exciting and strange.
Even the way to school was different. No school uniform, no separate routes for boys and girls like in Ireland. Here, everyone walked together, with colourful backpacks, jeans and trainers. Olivia and I found this very strange at first – in Ireland, we always wore our wine red and grey school uniforms with jumpers, skirts or trousers, shirts, ties and black shoes.
When I entered the classroom with the class teacher on my first day of school, it suddenly became very quiet. Everyone stared at me as if I were an alien from Mars. The girls whispered quietly, and the boys just stared. I didn't know where to look.
Two boys then came up to me very cautiously and said something in English, but quite badly – as if they had just learned it. I had to laugh. The teacher had told them that I was from Ireland and could only speak English. But that wasn't true at all! My mum is from Germany, and she always spoke German to us when we were little. So, I understood every word – and was able to answer normally.
After a few days in school, everything didn't seem so strange anymore. I learned the names of my new classmates; we played dodgeball during break and told jokes. Soon I was right in the middle of things – and no longer the 'new boy from Ireland'.
Mum was super proud when I brought home several A's in maths and German in the first few weeks. She said I had the heart of a little Irish boy and the head of a real German – and that was the best combination ever!
Once I had settled in well at my new school, it was Olivia's turn.
She was a little sad because she wasn't allowed to go to school yet. In Ireland, she had already been going to school for a whole year and a half – children there start at the age of four! And now, in Germany, she suddenly had to go back to pre-school.
'It's kind of weird,' she said on her first day when Mummy took her there. 'Back to pre-school – it's like school in reverse!'
But after a few days, she didn't mind it so much anymore. It was quite nice to learn less and play more.
She quickly made friends in her new group. The children liked her right away – especially because she was so funny and spoke a little differently. Her teacher thought it was exciting that she came from Ireland. And when a girl from America who couldn't speak German joined the group, Olivia suddenly became important: she got to play translator! 'I'm a little English German teacher now!' she said proudly when her mum picked her up.
Her time at pre-school was wonderful. There were sleepovers with torches, cinema evenings with popcorn, cuddly toy afternoons, lots of walks, craft activities and days when she was allowed to help with baking. Flour on her nose, dough on her fingers – that was just her thing!
A year later, the time had finally come: Olivia started school!
She had a proper school ceremony (Einschulung) with a school cone (Einschulungstüte), her favourite dress and lots of colourful balloons. This was completely new to her, because they don't have anything like that in Ireland.
The best thing was that many of her friends from pre-school were in the same class and even her teacher was super nice. So, the beginning didn't feel so strange after all.
There was only one thing Olivia found a bit boring: she already knew most of the things covered in class. She had learned it all long ago in Ireland. When the teacher explained something, Olivia was often the first to raise her hand and know the answer.
In English class, the teacher was amazed when she spoke fluently with him. He didn't know she was from Ireland and asked in surprise:
'Wow, how can you speak English so well?'
Then a boy in the class laughed and said, 'Well, because she's from Ireland! They speak English there!'
Since then, Olivia has been allowed to help the teacher in English class. Sometimes she explains words, sometimes she reads whole stories aloud. And when she comes home, she proudly says:
'I'm like a mini teacher now!'
Mum and Dad always say that they are very proud of her – and you can really see that in their eyes.
At first, Olivia and I felt a bit like visitors from a foreign country. Everything was new – the streets, the school, the sounds. Even the trees looked different from the green hills in Ireland. Sometimes we held hands and looked around cautiously, as if we were discovering a mysterious place.
Mum always said, 'Every beginning is difficult – and eventually it will feel like home here too.'
I hope she's right. And sometimes, when it rains and the clouds hang low, I believe that Ireland is smiling down on us and saying, 'I'm still here.'
To keep us from being so sad at the beginning, Mum and Dad gave us a very special gift: a dog. But he was still tiny, a little fluffy puppy, and still living with the breeder. Olivia and I were allowed to visit him beforehand. We stroked his soft, red fur, played with him and tickled his paws until he squealed and ran around happily. We were even allowed to give him a name – we decided on Andy.
Finally, in the summer, the time had come – we were allowed to bring him home. But he didn't like the long car journey at all. He whimpered, trembled a little and snuggled close into his blanket. We had to stop often so that he could calm down. After that, it took quite a while before he was happy to get back into the car.
Now Andy is our best friend and constant companion. In the mornings, he happily jumps around the garden, chasing leaves and butterflies or trying to catch every ball we throw. He runs through the grass with us, digs little holes – sometimes in the middle of mums' flowers – and then shakes himself so much that we are all wet and covered in grass and mud.
In the evenings, he curls up on the sofa or right next to us in bed, lays his head on our knees and sighs contentedly. Then we stroke him gently and tell him about our day. Andy doesn't hear every word, but his loyal brown eyes shine at us and you can feel that he understands us.
As an Irish Setter, he is a little Irishman – playful, friendly, a little cheeky and always full of energy. He brings a piece of Ireland into our new home and makes every day a little bit more colourful and cheerful.