Packaging Adventures

One more reason why Germany is retarded: because you have to pay an import tax on gifts from your mother.

I got a notice from the German Zollamt (customs agency) that my package had arrived, but they were holding it until I showed up in person to pay taxes on the contents.  "Eughm quois?" said I, "I didn't order anything, my mother sent it to me, for crying out loud.  Asshats."  So, I went into the office armed to the teeth, ready to do battle with The Man.  And by "armed," I mean with a) my passport, b) my driver's license with my home address on it, and c) my portuguese Ausweis that has my mom's last name on it.  And by "to the teeth," I mean that these three documents put together are basically the paper equivalent of a Gatling gun.  Shit gets stuff done.

As it turns out, I didn't need it, the customs officer was superbly nice.  When I arrived, he said he felt very bad for me, but let's just see how bad the tax will be.  19% of the package's worth according to my mother added up to fifty-three dollars, JUST to pick up my own goddamned present!  So I did my best "I'm a foreigner, I don't understand this country, I'm really sad, it's a package from my mom and I miss her, look how low-cut my shirt is," the result being that the customs officer suggested we unpack the box and see if my mom had "overestimated" how much everything was worth.  So we opened everything up, I smiled a lot, and he kindly decided to overlook pretty much the entire box, except for the winter parka.  And even thought that still had the price tag on it, he decided the jacket was really only worth $150 dollars, bringing my taxes owed down from $53 to $29.  I still think the concept is total bullshit, but I can't really be angry about it because Customs Guy totally punched the system in the face for me.  Well, now we know, gifts can't be worth more than 60 dollars or the customs agency goes all taxation-without-representation on your ass.  BUT, on the plus side, I HAVE CHEEZ-ITS AND WHEAT THINS.

At the barn tonight, I was approached by a random lady who said, "Did I see you in the paper the other day?"  Yes.  Yes you did.  "I knew it!" she said, "My daughter came home from riding the other night and said 'Mom, I saw this girl at the barn, I don't know who she is, but she rides like an American,' and I said, 'I bet it's the girl we saw in the paper!'"  Then she asked me if I'd taken my riding test yet.  My what?  Apparently in Germany you can take a test to see how good you are, and she suggested I take it just for fun.  Two judges come in, and you have to do a dressage test, jump a course, and then take a theoretical test.  I might just take it for the hell of it slash so I can shove it in German faces every time I get that "You learned to ride in America? ...Oh." This way I can be like "Look bitches, I took your goddamned test, and I kicked it in it's goddamned face.  Go sit in the corner and eat sauerkraut."  I asked if riding like an American would mean failing the test, and the lady said it's not a bad thing, even though it's super obvious.  Fabulous.  There is also the small matter of how I've never done dressage in my life.

I also talked to the other girl about how we ride the mare, and she said the first time she sat on the horse after being away, she thought there was something wrong with it because it goes so well now.  So this is a plus.  Cantering is still a bitch, I need to fly Di over here or something so she can hang out with me and tell me how to fix this thing.

Hung out yesterday with some couchsurfers, including the other American.  She and I made plans to hang out this week (hooray!  Friends I can speak German with!), and I got permission from Host Mom to have a Thanksgiving dinner party at our house.  So that's super exciting!  Now I just need to figure out how to cook a turkey.  Or cook in general, really.

Boyce Avenue and Tyler Ward are coming to Hamburg, and I'm trying to find someone to go with me.  In celebration, here is some Boyce Avenue doing Journey.  Instant win.