Memories of local reporting

As an expat, my holidays are nostalgic trips. I seek out the old faces and smells, like the stench of my local train station.

One of the aspects of returning home is to visit old stomping grounds.

As an expatriate, my holidays backs in Australia are often nostalgic trips. I am not interested in the latest restaurants, events or festivals. I seek out the old faces and smells - from the craggy-faced man behind the counter of his mobile kebab shop to the stench of my local train station.

But my nostalgic quest is not limited to the senses. One of my favourite home treats is to read the local newspaper.

While readers are often engrossed (and outraged) by the actions of local personalities, my local newspaper remains a special treat, as it was the place where I landed my first break as a reporter.

Young, fresh-faced and arrogant, I thought the local rag was no major mental exercise. However, what I didn't count on was the responsibility and intensity surrounding the role of a local reporter.

As one of a two-man news team, our jobs were to cover the local council, police stations, schools and all things in between. As a result, days were often spent driving from one local gathering to another and reading all sorts of documents, from building codes to police reports.

What I didn't expect was the trust a local reporter could unwittingly build with the local communities. Once I came to terms with that responsibility, the job immediately became more satisfying.

Unlike major newspapers where a reporter quickly moves from one national story to another, the local hack has the time and vantage point to see their work affect the community.

During my time at a few local papers, I have witnessed how our stories opened centres for the mentally ill, ushered in new residential laws protecting the vulnerable and shed light on local and lost heroes.

However, the best parts of the job were the life lessons I picked up along the way.

One of the beats I covered was interviewing couples celebrating their 50th wedding anniversaries. With Melbourne's multicultural mix, these couples often survived wars, family and financial tragedies to build modest yet happy homes. The practicality of their advice can only come from the migrant experience.

"We never sleep angry," one elderly wife said, her hand on her husband's lap.

"We told ourselves if we ever have an argument or are angry at one another, we have to solve it before going to sleep, or at least agree that we will sleep on it and see how we feel the next day."

Another husband was more direct: "Don't expect too much from life," he laughed.

"You can only try your best, compromise sometimes and know the other person is not perfect."