From a Vegetable Garden to Australia: Moving as a Family

Anyone researching whether their family should move to Australia mostly finds polished travel reels in the German-speaking corner of the internet, and migration agencies who have never emigrated themselves. We want to do this differently. Here is the full story, how two years in Byron Bay a decade ago slowly turned into a family, how a restaurant in Essen became a vegetable garden, and how a kitchen-table conversation in spring 2024 became the decision to give everything up and start again on a different continent, with two small kids, without permanent residency, with three to four months of financial runway. If you are weighing up whether your own family emigration project is realistic: this text is an honest comparison sheet. As of May 2026, six weeks before Christian's departure.

Who we are

We are a family of four from Essen, Christian (37), Lucy (30), Joris (6) and Linnea (2), and we are moving to Australia in summer 2026. I am a trained chef and ran the restaurant die farm in Essen until the end of 2025. Lucy is currently finishing her Master's thesis in interior architecture. This story is ours, not migration advice, not a TV format, but what is actually happening.

I (Christian, born 4 February 1989) spend May 2026 shuttling between childcare and renovation work in the flat; in the evenings I sit at research, blog and videos. Lucy (born 27 January 1995) has her Master's thesis as a solo project in front of her and runs the camera for many of our pieces on the side.

Joris starts school in Australia in January 2027 and is already picking up English in play. What does he say about all of this? When we told him "we fly in three months", he answered: "Why so late?" That's his own voice. Linnea is still too small to understand the scale, but she is right in the middle of it, and that's a good thing.

For context: ✓ personal experience. We are not migration advisers, we share what we are doing, not what you should do.

How it began (2016)

In 2016 we flew to Byron Bay together, me for my chef apprenticeship, Lucy for a semester abroad that she had organised at short notice. One semester turned into two. Two semesters turned into a few extra weeks. That one gut decision back then is the origin of everything that follows, without Lucy's spontaneous yes, we wouldn't exist as a couple, neither would Joris or Linnea, neither would Wildgewachsen nor this blog.

After Lucy's study time, we both flew back to Germany together for a home visit. Lucy then stayed in Germany because she wanted to continue her studies. I went back to Byron Bay on my own to finish my apprenticeship. In total I lived there for almost two years; at the end of 2018, I returned to Germany for good.

What no one had on their radar: the goodbye from family, friends, and especially from Lucy, at the end of the home visit was hard. Not "a bit difficult". Hard. That fed into the decision to return at the end of 2018, years later. We knew Australia as a place to live, we knew the region, we had a daily life there. But in the end Germany was closer, family, language, a chance to take over a restaurant.

Who would have thought that a gut decision in a travel agency in 2016 would become the line everything in our lives ten years later hangs on? Not us.

For context: ✓ personal experience. Dates roughly (~2016 to end of 2018), exact days we don't keep in a calendar.

The return in 2018 and the restaurant die farm

We returned to Germany at the end of 2018. The lease and business registration for the restaurant die farm in Essen followed on 1 February 2019, the first renovation work we already started in December 2018. Seven years later, on 31 December 2025, we closed the restaurant. Between those two dates lies the story from which the brand Wildgewachsen was born.

Homesickness was one factor, for family, for a language in which you can also discuss tax forms. The other factor was concrete: we could take over a restaurant in Essen. A one-off chance we didn't want to let slip.

The restaurant sat on the Rutherhof in Essen, a complex with swing golf and football golf. We only ran the restaurant, not the whole complex. The concept was a countryside restaurant with ostrich meat as the speciality: steak, goulash, stroganoff, burgers. 60 seats inside, 60 outside. Through the games on the grounds, the restaurant was simultaneously an events venue, birthdays, company parties, weddings. One of those weddings was our own.

In October 2025 we got married in our own restaurant, two months before closing. The cover image of this article is from that day; Christian, Lucy, Joris and Linnea, in the place where we worked for seven years. Shortly after, we locked the doors.

In the last two years, something grew alongside it that no one had planned at the start: our own vegetable garden on the restaurant grounds. A piece of garden became proper market gardening, a hobby became a content format, and the content format became Wildgewachsen – our YouTube channel and this blog. Whoever follows us knows the garden more than the restaurant. That's no accident: the restaurant was the job, the garden was what we would have done even without pay.

Our team, by the way, was loyal and well-rehearsed over the years, the full-time crew stable in the final years, turnover only among casuals. Staff shortages were never the acute pain for us; the awareness that it could become critical at any time was always there. We didn't stop because the team fell apart. We stopped because we wanted to move to Australia.

For context: ✓ personal experience. Restaurant closed on 31 December 2025.

The moment of decision (spring 2024)

Spring 2024, a good two years before departure, I sat at the kitchen table with Lucy for the first time seriously and said: I think I can't keep running the restaurant. Not "I need a break", not "I want a sabbatical", but: I don't see how this can work well for another ten years. Out of that conversation, over several weeks, came the joint decision to move to Australia.

The factors were sober: too much work for a small family. Too little time for the kids, especially in summer, when I was basically never home. A quality of life Lucy was also no longer willing to quietly accept. There was no single moment of breaking, more like many small ones that summed up to a picture.

But in that same spring, three levers were on the table at the same time, opening a window: Lucy was approaching her Master's. Joris was about a year and a half away from school, exactly the window in which a school move abroad is easiest (he starts school over there, instead of switching out of a German school halfway through). Linnea was small enough that she wouldn't cling to Germany. If not now, then not for another ten years, and I'd be 47 by then, Joris 16. Three levers, one window.

We didn't decide logically. There was no spreadsheet in which "pro Australia" won. There were many evening conversations and, at one point, a shared clarity: if not now, then never. That clarity hasn't faded since, not even in the hardest weeks of preparation.

How do you decide to give up a restaurant you've built over six years? Not with a spreadsheet, but with a gut feeling you ignored so long that it became loud enough to listen to.

For context: ✓ personal experience. This was emotional, not sober. A gut decision with a clear trigger.

Why Australia – and why now

Australia for us is not a researched wish, we know the region. Two years in Byron Bay are not a backpacking trip, they are lived daily life with bureaucracy, accommodation, laundry. Three family windows happen to fall on the same point right now: Lucy's Master's, Joris starting school, my restaurant fatigue. This constellation gives us a window that won't open again like this after 2026.

"Why now" has three layers. The family layer: Lucy's Master's is almost done, Joris is right before school, Linnea is at the right age. The professional layer: I've had enough of the restaurant, Lucy has a concrete direction with her interior architecture in a region with many interesting building projects. The time layer: every extra year in Germany would make the school switch for Joris harder, and slowly close the window.

We are realistic about it. Byron Bay directly, the expensive inner-suburb wish, is within reach with two kids and without a fixed job, but not guaranteed. Mullumbimby is currently our favourite for the first place: school, infrastructure, commuting radius, the criterion is 35 to 40 minutes between home and my possible workplace, no further. If Mullumbimby doesn't work out, we look further in the area (Northern Rivers). We are not married to a town, we are married to a region.

What are we concretely looking for in Australia? More family time without shift culture. A climate you feel as a gift, not a burden. A work culture in which being a chef doesn't mean I don't see my own child for three weekends in a row in summer.

For context: ✓ personal experience of the region (two years BB) + ⏳ our own estimate on first place to live.

How we prepared

By early May 2026 we had ticked off most of the pre-bureaucracy steps: visa strategy in place (186 Employer Nomination Scheme), PTE Academic ✓ (score 89, Proficient, 270 € on 11 March 2026 in Hamburg with Berlitz Deutschland GmbH), Skill Assessment as a cook ✓, Migration Agent engaged. Still ahead of us: tourist visa application for all four in the next few days, then my departure on 23 June and the sponsor search on the ground.

Concretely, what we've ticked off:

• Visa strategy: the goal is the 186 visa (Employer Nomination Scheme). That requires a sponsoring employer in Australia – we'll find one on the ground. Sponsor search out of a tourist visa is the plan.
• PTE Academic ✓: sat on 11 March 2026 in Hamburg with Pearson PTE, cost 270 €. Overall score 89, classified as Proficient (+10 EOI points). Clearly enough for 186 Direct Entry. Reading 66 and Writing 75 were below the Superior threshold (70/85); if we need +20 EOI points as a safety net, we'll retake the test in Australia.
• Skill Assessment as a cook ✓: completed through Trades Recognition Australia (TRA) – laborious and expensive, especially the documentation as a self-employed person. The item that cost us the most nerves.
• Migration Agent ✓: we work with Johannes Kunz of JK Migrate. Very nice, good work. His first conversation cleared up more than a month of own research – if you're thinking about an agent yourself, this is a point where we make the recommendation.
• Restaurant closed ✓ on 31 December 2025.
• Flat notice given ✓, moving out end of July 2026, follow-up tenants found, taking over the kitchen.
• Tourist visa application: all four apply together in the next few days. The tourist visa is valid for 12 months and activates a 3-month stay on entry. As soon as we lodge the 186 application, the whole family receives a bridging visa, family reunification is not in question.
• Flights booked ✓, Christian 23 June 2026, Lucy + kids 26 July 2026.

The flat clear-out is running, and it's hard: sorting wardrobes, sorting kids' things, selling furniture. What doesn't fit in the plane goes into our crate system: numbered cardboard boxes, precisely documented, stored at Lucy's father's place, sent to Australia on demand. The estimate: around 110 € per 10 kg box, around 170 € per 20 kg box (quotes we have, final price varies). Container service was not in the running for our volume; too expensive.

If you're interested in the full costs – what's paid, what's estimated, what's planned – everything is broken down in our cost article: Cost of Moving to Australia as a Family: Our Real Numbers (2026).

For the detailed 186 visa route as a family – streams, requirements, sponsor strategy, timeline – we've written it here: 186 Visa Australia: Our Family Route to the Employer Sponsored Visa (2026).

And the Skill Assessment as a self-employed chef with all the documentation pitfalls – the detailed write-up is here: TRA Skill Assessment as a Chef.

For context: ✓ personal experience for all steps. Visa fees and conditions change all the time – binding information directly from the Department of Home Affairs.

What it means to give it all up

May 2026 is not relaxed. Both of us are stressed, many fronts at once, all roughly equally heavy. Lucy is writing her Master's thesis full-time and has set herself a self-imposed deadline: 23 June, my departure. Officially the submission would be mid-July, but realistically that's not going to work: as soon as I'm gone, Lucy is alone with two kids and the rest of the flat. Her professor backs the pace, but it's tight.

I'm researching during the day between childcare, which often falls through right now, and renovation work in the flat (painting, smaller repairs, everything that has to be done before handing the keys over). In the evenings I write blog, edit videos, work through Aussie House Sitters and Facebook groups. The realisation is setting in that in Australia a lot will fall on my shoulders at once: without a job no sponsor, without a sponsor no visa, without a visa no bringing the family. That chain is what keeps me awake at night.

Sorting out the flat, we have a clear division: I would prefer to throw more out, separate more radically, store less. Lucy spent years lovingly sourcing kids' clothes at flea markets; each piece a conscious choice, not mass-market. With the kids' things, I give my opinion but leave Lucy the decision. That's fair, because she chose those things back then, and it's fair because she knows what she wants to keep as memory for the kids.

We talk honestly about what this phase is doing to us. Little time for each other right now. Few shared conversations that aren't simultaneously logistics. As a couple we are solid, we don't doubt the decision, we know this is a phase we go through together, and that things will be different in Australia. But this isn't a TV format. This is exhausting, sometimes sad, sometimes simply loud.

What happens inside a family when you have to hold together a flat, a restaurant closure, visa bureaucracy and a second life on the other side of the world for months at the same time? Answer: you talk more about the project and the planning than about yourselves. You know it. And you hold on anyway, because that's the baseline that ends in two months.

The month between 23 June and 26 July will be the most honest strain: Lucy alone with both kids, in parallel the last weeks of the Master's thesis, in parallel the rest of the moving out. We have a safety net, both families live in Essen and Mülheim, friends step in, Lucy's parents are close logistically and mentally. None of that changes the fact that this month will be hard. We write this here so clearly because we know that many family emigration stories shrink the weeks before the flight down to two sentences. That's not honest.

For context: ✓ personal experience, personal low point. As of: early May 2026, departure in seven weeks.

How it continues

I fly out on 23 June 2026 alone. In the first two to four weeks I look for a sponsoring employer, a car and a place to live in the Northern Rivers region. Lucy and the kids follow on 26 July 2026. Joris starts school in January 2027, the Australian school year begins in January, Linnea's childcare is not 100% settled.

My plan for the first weeks

• Mobility: first two weeks a rental car. Within that time, buy a used car, in Australia that goes relatively quickly and uncomplicated if you know what to look for.
• Accommodation in priority order: 1. Housesitting (Aussie House Sitters has been running since early 2026, so far only rejections because of missing reviews and "still in Germany"; Facebook groups come into play before departure). 2. A room in a share house. 3. A hostel as a last option.
• Job + sponsor: walk into restaurants in person, drop off a CV, in Australia that's the expected route in hospitality. Online search runs in parallel, but on the ground has the better odds. With a tourist visa, working is not allowed; having conversations, visiting restaurants, sounding out commitments is fine. The formal sponsor engagement only happens after a successful 186 application.
• Place for four, in parallel to the job hunt, from mid-July with concrete viewings, as soon as the area becomes clearer.
• Content we keep producing, we film the arrival, the first weeks, the search. Surf whenever it's possible.

Lucy's plan for the first months

• Childcare as the priority: Joris doesn't start until January 2027, Linnea's care is open. Until that's settled, Lucy is primarily with the kids.
• Reactivating architecture contacts in parallel: from the Byron Bay days, Lucy still has contacts in the area. "Hey, here I am", those emails go out as soon as we are on the ground, maybe even shortly before departure.
• Possible part-time projects: if enquiries come in, we check whether it fits with childcare.
• Once care is in place: Lucy wants to go at least part-time back into architecture, that was one of the drivers for moving to Australia, not away from architecture, but towards a region with building projects she finds interesting.

For context: ✓ personal experience (plan) + ⏳ our own estimate (order of the first weeks). We don't know how quickly the job and sponsor will work, we hope for two to six weeks, we plan financially with three to four months of runway. Worst case would be flying back, that's part of our plan.

Why we do it anyway

We want the kids to grow up in a setting we feel is good for them, beach, garden, less shift work culture, more shared time. We want shared evenings not to be an earned weekend moment but everyday life. We want Lucy working on architecture projects she finds interesting, and we want me to be able to cook again without it using me up as a person.

We promise nobody anything. We don't know if it will work. If the sponsor doesn't materialise in the first three months, it gets tight. We don't have a big buffer, three to four months of runway, then money has to come in. No PR means: school and Medicare we pay for ourselves. Lucy can't work full-time at first. I have to work as a chef for the first two years for visa reasons. We know all of that. If no sponsor materialises by the end of the three tourist months, we fly back. We're aware of that, financially and mentally. It's not a recommendation, it's our deliberate bet: we're going this route because we know the region and we have contacts from our Byron Bay time. Every family has different reserves, different visa options, a different time horizon.

Even so: this is our path. We share it on YouTube, Instagram and on this blog, not to produce travel inspiration, but because we want other families who are facing a similar decision to find honest numbers and honest stories instead of polished influencer versions. If that interests you, read along. We keep writing.

Fact matrix at a glance

Frequently asked questions

Why are you moving to Australia?

In 2016 we flew together to Byron Bay, me for my chef apprenticeship, Lucy for what was meant to be a single semester abroad. Two semesters turned into two full years in the region, and we felt at home there. Since coming back to Germany at the end of 2018 the wish to return has never gone away. In 2026, Lucy's Master's degree, Joris starting school and our restaurant fatigue all line up at the same point, a one-off window.

What was the concrete trigger for the decision?

In spring 2024, I told Lucy at the kitchen table for the first time, seriously, that I couldn't keep running the restaurant. Too much work, too little family time, especially in summer. Lucy was nearing her Master's, Joris was approaching school age, three levers at once. We decided together: if not now, then never.

When did you close die farm?

We ran die farm, our restaurant in Essen, from 1 February 2019 to 31 December 2025, almost seven years. In October 2025 we celebrated our own wedding there, two months before closing. Our team was loyal and well-rehearsed, staff shortages were not a closure factor. Emigration was.

Which visa are you using, and why?

We are going via the 186 visa (Employer Nomination Scheme) – that requires a sponsoring employer in Australia, who I'll be looking for on the ground as a trained chef. Skill Assessment as a cook is complete, PTE Academic passed with score 89 (Proficient), Migration Agent Johannes Kunz engaged. The full 186 route is described in a separate article: 186 Visa Australia.

Why is Christian travelling alone first?

I fly on 23 June 2026 alone, Lucy and the kids follow on 26 July. In those four weeks I'll be looking for a sponsor, a car and a place to live in the Northern Rivers region. Job and sponsor are the key to everything, visa, accommodation, family reunification. When Lucy and the kids arrive, the frame should be in place.

What does it cost to move to Australia as a family?

By early May 2026 we had spent around 6,900 € on preparation in Germany (biggest item: family flights). The 186 visa application fees for four people come to roughly 9,825 AUD. For the start in Australia we have a 30,000 AUD reserve. The full breakdown – paid, estimated, with sources – is in our cost article: Cost of Moving to Australia as a Family.

Christian Schippel

Trained chef, 37, lived in Byron Bay from 2016 to 2018. Moving back to the Northern Rivers in summer 2026 with Lucy and two kids. Writes here about visas, costs and everything that happens along the way. More about us