Just weeks after my 28th birthday, I arrived in Burgenland, a wine region south of Vienna, to work at a natural wine domaine.
Fresh off of quitting my full-time job in California, I planned to travel indefinitely, hopping from country to country by way of the wine harvest.
I didn’t have the space, nor the desire, to make room for a serious relationship. Then, I met Lars.
In the sticky August heat, we both arrived on the first morning of harvest at 3 a.m., faceless strangers in the dark. Lars was gentle and curious, with a thick accent that made some words sound unfamiliar, but all of them endearing.
We picked alongside one another beneath the stars, talking with fervor until the sun rose. Being near him felt both exhilarating and familiar.
We spent the next several weeks falling in love, but there was one complication: I had plans to move halfway across the world to Australia.
We knew our time together would end, but we fell in love anyway
I held an Australian Work and Holiday Visa, so I planned to move at the beginning of December and stay there for at least a year, traveling to different countries in between.
From the very beginning, I made it clear to him that, despite our unexpected connection, my plans would not change. Lars wholeheartedly supported my decision, although it meant our paths would diverge — after a year working in wineries across Italy and Austria, he wanted to stay in one place.
Despite the impending expiration date, we continued. After harvest, our first date was a whirlwind hiking trip through the Dolomites, Tyrol, and the Bavarian Alps. On our second date, we said “I love you” over foamy pints of beer in a Glasgow pub.
After a tearful goodbye at the airport, I began a new wine harvest in Australia, while he returned to Germany, his home country, to begin a full-time winemaker role. We planned to continue dating long-distance, spending hours on FaceTime whenever we could.
He often sent me handwritten letters, sometimes surprising me with a bottle of wine I couldn’t find in Australia or a T-shirt that smelled like him.
We spoke candidly about our growing feelings for each other and fantasized about traveling the world and building our own winery together. We built a collective dream around “someday,” despite not knowing when that day would come.
His surprise invitation derailed my plans but opened the door to something new
As the lengths of our FaceTime calls grew and we became more emotionally entwined, though, I started to second-guess my plans.
Then one January evening, he invited me to move to Germany in the spring. He wanted to spend the summer exploring whether this relationship had legs.
Both of us were thrilled by the prospect of a long-term future together, but I worried that integrating our lives would erase my renewed independence and purpose.
Since moving abroad, I’d given myself permission to actively move toward the things I wanted. I’d craved this level of freedom for my entire life, and I didn’t want to forfeit what I’d been working toward for years.
He suggested that we give it three months: If our relationship didn’t work out by the end of the summer, I could return to Australia, and we could both move on. In May, I arrived in Germany to begin again.
During the summer, it was essential to me that I secure my own source of income — although I had saved a substantial amount, I wanted to be financially independent. I started working part-time with a female winemaker in a nearby vineyard.
Being together was wonderful, but as the novelty wore off, some friction was inevitable. The difference in our cultural and communication styles became more evident, for one thing.
I also grew restless, wanting to travel more often than his job allowed, and Germany’s quaint, countryside villages began to feel suffocating rather than peaceful.
However, cohabitation became a good practice in compromise. Rather than hopping on a flight or always going somewhere new, we’d ride the train two hours south to Alsace for the day, or explore the forest in our own backyard.
I learned that adventure doesn’t have to mean chasing the biggest high or traveling the furthest distance.
We pushed past each moment of discomfort and learned how to navigate the inevitable conflict that comes with living together. As summer came to a close, I decided to stay.
Despite my fears, I was able to maintain my independence — and gain so much more
Now, over a year later, we live at a winery in the German countryside and are planning to make our first wine project together.
Despite having a fixed address, adventure is a regular part of our routine, both individually and as a couple. We’ve gone on road trips through France, backpacking in Patagonia, and to concerts in Luxembourg.
I’m pursuing a meaningful career I love, one that enables me to travel and connect with people all over the world. I’m also building a life in Germany, learning the language, and creating a growing community.
Although I’m always drawn to the chaotic joy of picking up and moving to new places, Lars taught me how to slow down, turning mundane moments into their own brand of magic. Together, we’ve crafted a textured life that feels more expansive together than apart.
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