France, horses, food and wine

It's a cold grey day in late November in New York City.  I'm leaving for France today.  France; for the horses, for the food, for the wine and for the first time I'm leaving behind a European boyfriend instead of the other way around.  My new French boyfriend of one month entered my life right on time for my birthday and the holiday season.  He says this is fast, I'll say.

I was planning this trip when I met Olivier.  I kept on planning even after we became an "item," of the mind not to defer the certainty of the moment for the uncertainty of the future.  I have learned that much in all this living I've done.  Now, a month into the relationship I find I don't want to leave him for this trip.  The "us" is all so new.  I still feel very much myself, how solidly and comfortably I move alone in the world along with the newness of trying on the fit of coming to belong to someone else.

Enter France, so incredible for me--the villages, the people, the very style, ambiance, the lilt of the music of the foreign tongue, the flair of the clothes, the food. all things you imagine French (except the people won't let me stumble along with the little French I know, they jump in to help me in English, whatever happed to the infamous French snobbery--these people are so friendly!).

Then there are the horses.  I came here, to Fonainbleau, to find out if I was a rider or not.  An endless ride over a year ago on a runaway mare has left me badly traumatized, my confidence as a rider is still practically non-existent.  I've been trying to work through the issue by going back to the roots of classical riding and riding in those places.  I've been to Spain, Portugal and now France.  In these countries the communion between horse and rider is understood and honored in all its simplicity.  If I can learn to trust a horse again it will be easiest in these places.   

When I do ride in Fountainbleau I find that I can ride and I can't ride.  This is one of the best stops you can make on the comeback trail.  The place is home to Isabelle Judet, famous in the classical dressage world, charming, intelligent, educated and wise to horses and people.  There's my instructor, Delphine, lovely, sweet and saucy, so full of living.  Everyone here is so in love with the horses, there is a warmth in the way they relate to them that just does not exist in the States.  It's all so infectious.  I work on the movements of riding, body position, balance, coordination, communication but being able to really let go and trust the horse underneath me remains elusive. 

When I am not riding in Fountainbleau I wander the streets of the old downtown where my hotel is.  I dine in bistros; the best food, try pizza away from the streets of NYC (not so good), try authentic French street food, crepes, and am justly rewarded by my choice.  I drink incredibly cheap incredibly wonderful red wine.  I buy herbes de provence, savon de marsaille and sea salt to bring home.  I get my hair done hoping to impart that "je ne sais quoi" to my locks.  I do not flirt with strange men, I go out of my way to avoid the interaction, it feels a little lonely.

"The chateau" in town is worth the trip on its own, headquarters of Napoleon at one time and full of exhibit upon exhibit of French history, because I am going home to a French boyfriend I linger at the exhibits trying to understand them all the more.

Most of my days in Fountainbleau are spent in cold grey rain.  I ride in a huge indoor ring open to the autumnal foliage below the roof.  There is the sweet smell of dirt and the movement of the horses dancing, majestic, kind and thoughtful.  When I'm not riding at the center I spend my time entranced by the atmosphere and other inhabitants of the stable.  Barn cats and dogs (the ones here have extra toes), champion pure bred horses, Selle Francais, and an orphan foal.  Horses are herd animals, they need company, the little foal lives with a goat in his stall, the goat is convinced that this foal is her baby.  I love this place.  My confidence with the horses grows each with each day but there are not enough days.

I will leave Fontainbleau richer for having been here, stronger in technique, but nerve?  That will take more time, perhaps another country, more horses, more wine...

-copyright 2006 Frania Shelley-Grielen