…and the story continues!

So, I struggled through the e-mails and the phone calls, swallowed my pride before I started each conversation and picked my ego up off the floor when I was done. How I managed through all the directions in German is still a mystery to me, but I successfully secured 8 visits to 6 different barns before finally choosing mein deutsches Pferd.

Sometimes you have to ride a lot of mules before you find Black Beauty.

The Unstoppable – This horse was literally a Black Beauty. A Friesian with so much black hair I couldn’t even see his eyes. The owner switched to English just long enough to tell me a bunch of bad things about the barn owner (who didn’t speak any English), and then never uttered another English word. We rode together, me on the Friesian and she on her other horse, through the Black Forest. I could not stop the horse at all. Like, not even a tiny bit. Even my 22″ biceps were no match for this guy!

The Stand Up – This woman and I agreed to meet at her house and then go to the barn together. When I got there, there was a big sign on the door that said, “Nachricht für Trysta.” I was impressed…she spelled it correctly! Apparently I am a decent speller in German. As I waited patiently for an answer at the door, I contemplated the sign, which was tucked between the glass and the wrought iron of the door. “Nachricht” means news and also voicemail, sometimes information. So, I stuck my fingers between the open spaces and started to inspect the sign, which was tied with a pretty bow at the top. It wasn’t actually a sign at all, but an envelope. Inside, the woman had written me a letter (99.9% of which I understood! Yeah!), in which she told me that she had already promised the work to 4 other people. She didn’t have any way to contact me, but invited me to come to the barn regardless. Really? I called your cell phone. My e-mail was in the newspaper, for crying out loud. I drove home.

The Compound – Here, I meandered through at least ten different barns before finding the one that actually had the horses I would be working with. Apparently there were 80+ horses at this complex, all deceptively tucked into every nook and cranny available. After nearly getting bit and kicked while trying to tack up the horse, I was already feeling like this wasn’t going to work out. I have been bit and kicked enough by my own horses. I didn’t need to let someone else’s horse abuse me as a favor. I found out later that the owner actually had 8 teenage girls sharing her three horses. I would be #9. Or not.

The Crazy Farm – When I asked for the exact address to this barn, I was told there was no address, no street name. Great! Two strikes against me already: German, and completely indecipherable landmark-style directions. I managed to find the barn and then spent the next two hours listening to “the crazy lady” talk…non-stop…without interruption…about everything…and nothing. She told me the story of every one of the 30+ horses that were on the farm, that she doesn’t know how to read, how much she hates computers, and that she doesn’t travel more than 5km from her house. She also told me that she would not learn my name. It was too difficult for her. I told her that if I could learn German, she could learn one word…my name. She refused. She did, however, ask me when I was coming back. The opportunity was a loss, but I gained 2+ hours of listening comprehension practice!

The Vices – This mare was actually really cute, until she came out of the stall. Only 5 years old, the poor thing was so bored that she had already developed numerous bad habits. I really enjoyed riding the horse, but there was something about the owner that I just couldn’t put my finger on. Everything was too perfect and too new. I had to use a mounting block (I think) for fear of stretching out the stirrup leathers, the hooves had to be cleaned at a specific location, the horse couldn’t go outside if it was too muddy, I could only ride on Fridays, etc. I would be sharing the horse with the owner and her daughter. To sum it up in the eloquent words of my mother and sister, “Sometimes four girls in one place are just too many.”

Needless to say, none of the above quite fit the bill.

My Black Beauty is actually red, a total sweetheart, and really tall! His name is Dorian. Dorian’s owner is a self-declared “adventurer” who waits patiently as I jack-around with the word placement and accusative/dative/genitive tenses of each of my sentences. He has a son, also really sweet, who told me how great Dorian is and that he learned nothing in school that day.

So, Tally Ho! Me and mein deutches Pferd.

Erfarene Reiterin (30) sucht Mitreitgelegenheit im Raum FR.                           Experienced female rider (30) searches for shared riding opportunity near Freiburg.

That is what my posting in the classified section of the local newspaper said. How I got to that point is one story. What happened afterwards is another!

This is a novella folks! So, grab your wine (if it’s “Wine Night”), Captain & Coke and DiGiorno, Rex Goliath and Rold-Gold’s, or O’Doul’s and favorite cat and tuck in for a long one!

It all started with my new Tandem Partner. A Tandem Partner is someone who wants to improve their second (or third, or fourth) language and is willing to help you improve yours. These are casual and free meetings, taking place wherever, with the sole purpose of gaining speaking practice. So, half of the time I speak English with my Tandem Partner and half the time, German. She is a 66 year old retired teacher, and is not afraid to tell me exactly what she thinks!

Here are the highlights of our first several meetings, and the journey to my first “personal ad”.

Meeting 1 – During our first meeting, we went through the usual small-talk/get-to-know-you banter. I explained to her my job, why I was living in Germany, and that my husband has a “scholarship” that is allowing him to study at the University. She promptly proceeded to ask me if we have enough money! She also told me that she would help me find friends and a job that would allow me to speak more German. Um…I didn’t feel at a loss for either of those, but whatever. Since it took about half an hour for her to be satisfied with the explanation of my job, I just let it be. I won’t even get into the racial generalizations that she made or when she told me that my English was wrong. Ha! A normal person would never have met with her again. Apparently I am a glutton for punishment…

Meeting 2 – This week, after clarifying for about the fifth time that I already had a job, she finally seemed to let go of that topic. I politely listened as she told me I needed more friends and how I should go about getting them. Then, she decided to focus on my hobbies. Alright, I thought, this is safe. I have been through this conversation numerous times by now. Ha!

I told her that one of my hobbies is skiing. Her response: “Well, that is not very good. You can’t talk to anyone while you are skiing.” Ok, moving on. I told her my other hobby was riding horses. Her response: “That is even worse. You can’t speak German with a horse. They don’t talk back.” I tried to explain that I usually talk with the other people who are riding the horses, or with my riding teacher. Her response: “You don’t even use complete sentences while riding a horse. Only commands like: Go, Stop.” Little did she know that I was giving myself commands throughout our entire conversation:  Smile. Nod. Keep speaking German. Smile. Nod. Keep speaking German.

Meeting 3 – This week, despite her clear disapproval of what I choose to do with my spare time, my Tandem Partner pulled out two newspapers from her backpack. She had searched through the “Pferd” (Horse) section of the classifieds and unfortunately “only found horses for sale.” I told her that I appreciated her thinking of me and tried to move the conversation away from hobbies. Instead, she said, “Get out a piece of paper. We will write a posting for you to put in the paper.” Sometimes it is just easier to do things, than to explain why you don’t want to. Especially in another language.

Meeting 4 – This week we start talking about the trip that Joe and I have planned to Luxembourg. She asks me why I would want to go to Luxembourg. “Why not?” I respond. She then tells me that no one goes to Luxembourg and that there are so many more beautiful places to go besides Luxembourg. After at least 5 minutes of ranting about why going to Luxembourg is a bad idea, she finally tells me that she has never been to Luxembourg. I resort to my well-practiced mantra: Smile. Nod. Keep speaking German. Smile. Nod. Keep speaking German. As I am struggling to find my happy-place, she snaps me back to reality with the question: “Should we go post your classified ad now?”  What?! Was she really serious? I politely declined and told her that maybe we could do it next week, hoping she would conveniently remember her disapproval of my life-choices.

She then moves the conversation to a serious of interesting questions she has about the United States and Americans: Why does everyone want to have 2.5 kids, a dog, and a cat? What is the obsession with “The American Dream”? Why do Americans use up 1/3 of the world’s energy resources? Why was President Bush so hungry to go to war? When the questions changed from “Americans” and “the United States” to “you” (Why do you blame everybody else instead of doing something yourself?), I switched to English and returned to an altered mantra: Smile. Nod. Don’t bite this lady’s head off. Smile. Nod. Don’t bite this lady’s head off.

Then, she suddenly said, “Should we go post your ad now?” It truly seemed like the better option, even though I had already said no. Anything was a better option than the conversational path we were headed down.

So, we walked to the newspaper office and put my classified ad in the paper! I chose to use my e-mail address instead of my phone number. (Let’s just say that phone calls in German are not…that…easy!) I figured nothing would result of this and she and I could put the topic to rest.

By now, you’re probably asking yourself why I keep meeting with her. My friends here in Germany keep asking, “Did you break-up with your Tandem Partner yet?” The bottom line is that she forces me to speak German. She corrects me and makes me repeat things until they are right. I hate it, but I need it. She also corrects my English, which I don’t need, but find totally hilarious. Finally, I believe that people come in and out of our lives for a reason.

Meeting 5  – Ironically, the paper is published the same day I have meetings with my Tandem Partner. By 7:30am I had received three responses from people that needed help with their horses. I printed them and brought them to our meeting. She had an opinion on every single one: “You don’t want to do that. That is too far away. These people want you to pay money. You can’t pay money.” She told me to get out a piece of paper and the she proceeded to dictate a response to each of the requests. Her response. I was a dutiful scribe, then went home and responded to the e-mails in my own prose.

By the end of the day, I had received two more e-mails. By the end of the week, 5 more. Ten in total (plus the one freaky e-mail that obviously came from someone who got a thrill from sending sketchy e-mails to strangers)! Again, good thing I used my e-mail. Eventually the e-mails became hard to keep straight. The German was getting all blurry in my head. The details of who had what horse and what they needed, started bleeding together.  My heart dropped every time I read: Please call. I prefer to speak further via phone. Phone calls are the worst.

I believe that people come in and out of my life for a reason. Clearly, a higher power wants me to find ein Deutsches Pferd.

To be continued…