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So we moved to the german city of Munich, Bavaria in May 2011. If I could use dance as an analogy to my life here so far, it would go like this:- My comfort zone is definitely the Foxtrot. Smooth, flowing, seemingly effortless, easy to learn. Yes, there have been some enjoyable Foxtrots...Munich and I can Foxtrot like Fred and Ginger at times. However, on arrival, I am thrown in at the deep end with the Quickstep... not a dance for beginners (and Munich and I are definitely beginners). Fast foot movements, punishing rhythm and extremely difficult to learn. And here I am standing in the middle of the stage, expected to perform the darned dance, with no rehearsal. I gingerly attempt it, and feel pitifully inadequate because I just can't do the fricking steps. I wander back to our apartment crying with frustration. But before long, the honeymoon feeling sweeps me off my feet again... I'm in love with Munich...the sun is shining, the band is playing, the beer is flowing and so is my Foxtrot. I glide effortlessly to and from each scenario and soon I am confident enough to attempt the Cha Cha. The crowd is cheering and the adrenaline is flowing...wow, I feel so alive and my synchronicity with Munich is damned near flawless. We are speaking the same language, dancing the same dance. We are in perfect unison and alignment, when...WHAM! A foot from nowhere takes me out. I am flat on my face feeling angry and bruised. The crowd are shaking their heads. I am all consumed in my humiliation and I swear I can hear the crowd tutting, 'Silly English girl...sie kann kein Step Deutsch tanzen'.
