1/22/11: The German Cripple.

For the past few days, my right knee has gotten progressively more swollen and sore. Every time I get off a horse, it hurts a little more. I have no idea what's wrong, but this morning Simone saw me walking to the kitchen in shorts (returning frozen peas I was using to ice my leg), noticed my knee, and announced that I should not ride for two days. She gave me some mysterious German anti-inflammatory cream (or at least that's what I hope it is) and some mysterious German pain pills (I'm pretty sure that's what they are because they had an effect similar to Advil), and when we headed out to the barn I only tacked up horses and cleaned tack. I am proud to say my time at the barn was not wasted, however, because I learned to say "how are you?" in German: "Wie geht es dir," although it sounds like, "Vee get es tia." Before going to the barn, Simone, Lena, and I also went to a fresh market in Warstein. Warstein is definitely the smallest town I have ever lived in. It officially became a town in 1296 and I don't think it's grown a whole lot since then. A beautiful church and the main offices for Warsteiner Brewery make up the town center, and every Wednesday and Saturday there is a small fresh market in the courtyard of the church. It's made up of a few individual vendors selling everything from eggs, steak, and bratwurst to fresh fruits and vegetables. Simone, Lena, and I bought lots of groceries and took them back to the house before heading to the barn. We also dropped off some bags of bottles and plastic at recycling bins in the town. Everyone recycles here because it costs 25 Euros to have a regular sized plastic bin of trash discarded.

This afternoon, after finishing at the barn and cooking some of the vegetables from the market to eat for lunch, I got out the trusty peas again and sat with them on my hippo-esque knee for about 30 minutes whilst watching The Break-Up. I really hope my leg is better tomorrow! If it isn't, I am going to go see a doctor on Monday. For dinner, Simone, Lena, Charlotte, and Opa (this is the German name for "grandpa") went out to dinner with one of Opa's friends and his eight year old daughter. We went to a very traditional German hotel called the Schettel Hotel and Restaurant. It was absolutely beautiful, with an intimate restaurant, delicious food, and only ten bedrooms. The Pollmann-Schweckhorst's are good friends of the hotel owners, so I got a guided tour!

Now I just need to put some more German cream on my leg and hope for the best for tomorrow.