Horses!

So, when I first arrived at Clausthal I was given a quick introduction to the town and the institute and then sent off to unpack and settle in.  Once I had emptied my suitcases and made my bed with the borrowed linens, I sat down and started thinking of all the questions I had about this new place where I would be for the next two months.  I wanted to find activities that lined up with my interests and would keep me from long, lonely afternoons in front of my computer wishing for home, although I certainly would have had enough projects with this blog and the scrapbook I'm trying to put together to keep me occupied, had I really wanted to work on them.  So I started in on that first Monday with a long list of questions for Leif, who graciously sat down with me (after having made the rounds and "met" all of the coworkers) in order to tackle them one by one.

One of my questions was whether there were opportunities in Clausthal for me to ride horses.  I was imagining perhaps a small stable where they'd be happy to have someone with a decent knowledge of horses come and help out by mucking stalls/distributing hay a couple of times a week, and in return would graciously let me ride every once in a while. After all, that's what happens in all of the little-girl novels, right?  She just stumbles upon a stable where she can work in exchange for riding?  Well, such is not usually the case in the real world, but when I posed the question to Leif he assured me that there were several stables in the area, so riding was a distinct possibility.  When, the following afternoon, I asked for more specifics concerning the horses, he exclaimed (in typical Leif style), "Yes, I've thought of exactly whom you need to meet!" and picked up his phone.  Two minutes later I was sitting in the office of a mechanical engineering graduate student at the institute of Welding and Cutting, right across the parking lot from PuK.  She was a wonderfully cheerful and friendly individual and started telling me all about her horse that she kept at a local stables - a young, fiery chestnut Quarter Horse mare whom she had ended up buying because of the previous owner's inability to sell a horse in the sudden economic downturn.  My heart leapt - my favorite horse at Living Waters, the one I've been training and spoiling for several summers now, is a young, fiery chestnut Quarter Horse mare.  It was a match made in Heaven!!  Additionally, Mirjam (the graduate student) told me that she was the only one at her stables to ride Western - all of the other boarders preferred English and a more dressage approach.  I don't like English, because I find it snobby, stiff, and impossible to wear jeans while riding (the stirrup leathers chafe against the inside seam of your jeans due to the unavoidable movement of your legs as you ride).  So to hear that this lovely new friend not only rode a horse that sounded just like mine but rode her Western made me grin from ear to ear.  We chatted for a few minutes, Mirjam also telling me about a dedicated Quarter Horse breeding barn in the area which specialized in the breed and also rode Western (apparently she didn't keep her mare there because of the cost or because she already knew the people at the barn where she boarded her) and sending a quick email to a friend of hers who rode there.  Then she said abruptly, "Well, do you want to come with me today?  I'm headed there right after work."  Head still spinning from the swift turn of events, I gladly agreed.

 A short 30 minutes later I found myself in the passenger seat of her little Fiat hatchback which had a bumper sticker on the back that read "Pleasure" and pictured the silhouette of a cowboy on a fine Western horse, as well as horse magazines and a halter or two scattered about the dashboard, floor, and backseat.  She was obviously a horse person, and an animal lover in general, as I soon found out.  On the way to the stable we stopped at a veterinary clinic to check on a stray mother cat and her newborn kittens which Mirjam had found just the week before on the side of the road and had brought them here, concerned about their survival.  Her consternation was apparent when she found out that only one of the kittens had survived, and she sighed more than once, "I wish I could just take them all home, but my current pets wouldn't like that very much."  Satisfied as to the condition of the mother cat and the remaining kitten, we continued on our way and soon arrived at the stable.  Mirjam popped inside of one of the stalls and soon reemerged leading a beautiful mare who could have been the spitting image of my Tango.  We quickly began to groom her and I tried to talk about horses in German, but found my vocabulary seriously lacking and soon switched to English, which Mirjam fortunately knew about as well as I knew German.  Together we brushed mini-Tango (as I dubbed her in my head, never actually catching her real name from Mirjam) until she shone, which wasn't hard with her healthy and naturally lustrous coat.  Then Mirjam explained that her horse tended to have back problems, which she eased by massaging her muscles before working her.  This brought a smile to my lips as I recalled Babe, the bad-tempered Appaloosa mare up at Living Waters whom we had acquired as one of the sole survivors of a bad barn fire.  We had eventually discovered that cramping flank muscles were also the cause of much of her crankiness and now made much ado about massaging her butt with special ointment, which was the only thing that would render her docile.  After massaging mini-Tango, Mirjam went off to fetch a friend of hers who would do the actual working of the horse.  Turns out that Mirjam is a relatively inexperienced rider herself and has done much of her learning along with the horse, which is never the ideal course of action and can lead to some serious quirks in both horse and rider if not supervised by more experienced trainers.  It turned out that this particular day was not one on which Mirjam would ride, but her friend put the horse on a lunge line and soon had her trotting around in circles, though reluctantly.  Seeing her cut capers and vehemently protest the exercise, Mirjam laughed and said, "See? She is so lazy sometimes.  She does not want to work today."  After watching the trainer's progress for awhile in motivating the lazy horse, Mirjam offered to take me on a tour of the grounds, which I gladly accepted.  The barn was relatively small and quite full - some horses were two to a stall and one corner had been clumsily blocked off with gates to make room for another pony.  It had originally been a barn for both horses and cattle, and there were only about eight horse stalls - the other dozen being where the cows were intended to come in for food and shelter.  The people who owned the barn and lived in the sprawling farmhouse adjacent to it still owned cows, as we saw - their herd, located in a bigger, dedicated barn a good distance from the horse barn and arena, was at least 50 strong.  The country around was absolutely beautiful - rolling hills and green pastures as far as the eye could see, and apparently the people who owned the farm owned a great deal of the surrounding land, as well.  Having seen most of the interesting parts of the farm, we returned to check on the progress of the horse.  The trainer had decided that she had worked hard enough for the day and was bringing her back into the barn.  By this time it was already well past seven and clear that we wouldn't be riding that day.  I was a little disappointed at this, but mostly just happy to be around horses again.  A lesson was starting in the indoor arena and I watched that for awhile, and noted uneasily that my German was certainly not advanced enough to be able to understand the instructor who stood in the middle of the arena and muttered half-audible instructions to the riders.  Growing bored of watching the lesson, I wandered back over to where Mirjam was, expecting that we would leave soon.  However, she turned to me a tad sheepishly and explained that there was to be a celebration that night for some of the other boarders and her friends; one woman had just begun a new job, and someone else had recently celebrated a birthday.  I didn't mind staying and participating in the celebration, just felt a little awkward since I didn't know anyone there but Mirjam.  Nonetheless the dozen or so people who gathered around the table to celebrate were very cordial and friendly, though they were understandably more interested in talking among themselves.  So I contented myself with sitting back and listening to their conversation, which I could mostly understand, and sampling from the generous spread (glad for the excuse not to have to make supper at the Wohnheim).  There were hamburgers, lots of fruit, and some other strange meats and cheeses (Germans love their fancy meats).  And - because it was a German celebration - there was plenty of alcohol.  In addition to beer, which can pretty much be assumed to be anywhere there could be an excuse for it in Germany, there was wine and champagne.  Partially out of politeness and partially out of curiosity, I did not decline a cup of strawberry wine when it was offered to me - and though I swear the bottle said wine, it was a carbonated drink.  It actually tasted pretty good, better than any of the beer or champagne I had tasted.  I also eventually worked up my courage and picked up a "grapefruit beer" from the table to try it.  Now, I wouldn't know, because I've never been concerned with alcohol in the US, but I'm fairly sure that flavored beers like this one are a strictly German thing.  On the table that night alone was grapefruit, mango, apple, and cactus.  I really like grapefruit juice and it had been recommended to me during Princeton in Munich that the grapefruit beer was the best because of the combination of the sour grapefruit juice and the bitter beer flavors.  Also, the brew was a mere 3.4% alcohol, and the bottle was 1/3 of a liter, so I didn't think there was much danger of me becoming raging drunk on it ;)  It was surprisingly good, and I even thought "Hey, I could get used to this" before catching myself and remembering that I was drinking alcohol :$.

Once I had finished off my drink and well-satisfied myself on treats, it being already around 9:30, I was getting fidgety and ready to go, although Mirjam was obviously enjoying herself and didn't make any signs of being ready to leave.  Nonetheless, noticing my agitation, she graciously asked whether I would like to go back, and when I sheepishly affirmed this, she lost no time in taking her leave of our hosts.  I very much enjoyed myself that day, and Mirjam gave me an open invitation to come back whenever I wanted, as she went to the stables nearly every day after work.  I even got an email that next day from her friend who rides at the Quarter Horse stable telling me that if I wanted to know more about that, I should just go over there and ask for her.  However, somehow (and I honestly am not quite sure how) got quite busy over the next few weeks and never made it back.  The weather wasn't very cooperative, either - it has rained here nearly nonstop for the past month, and I wasn't too keen on going to the barn when it was raining and there would be even less chance of us riding, even if they have an indoor arena.  However, I finally had both the idea and the opportunity to ask again this week, and tomorrow I will once again accompany Mirjam to the stables.  I can only hope that this time we may ride, but I don't want to be too forward about it - Mirjam's horse is young and inexperienced, and most of the other animals at the barn are likewise privately owned, so my chances are slim.  But I'll let you know how it goes, regardless!