The SV (Schwimm Verein) Filder-Neckar-Teck

I recently went to my first German swim meet (the Deutsch Masters Meisterschaft (German Masters Championship meet)). Aside from the obvious — that it and it’s never a good idea for your first competition in 2 years to be a championship meet — it was a great trip.

I won’t talk about my swimming other than to say I SUCK! And I’m too old to get into shape in a month. But the meet itself was loads of fun. Great swimmers, exciting to watch, lots of fun people. Just like masters’ meets in the US.

The really fun and interesting parts of the weekend have to do with the location (the formerly East German city of Dresden) and the group I went with, my masters club – Schwimm Verein (Swim club) Filder-Neckar-Teck. The name covers the 3 areas that team members come from and pools they practice at. I practice in Nuertingen, just down the road from our town. It’s along the Neckar river in the Neckartal (tal = valley). Other members of the team practice at a pool in the town to the east of us, Kirchheim unter Teck, and others in the town near the airport, Filderstadt.

The Neckar contingent of the team rented a van and drove up together. Steffen Winter is the team captain, the membership man, and general, all-around team clown. Practice is never dull with him there throwing people in, splashing, pulling you under during sets, and generally being disruptive. In between all that he actually works hard and is a great swimmer. His crowning feature is his big, loopy handlebar mustache. It’s big, full and bushy, and he finesses it into big curls at the ends. Once it’s wet, it hangs down over his mouth like a walrus’ whiskers. While we all dry our hair after practice, Steffen coifs his mustache back into form under the hair dryers. His head is shaved, so it doesn’t take any time or attention away from the mustache grooming. Steffen has a swimmer’s body – broad shoulders, narrow hips, probably even a flat, 6-pack ab stomach at one time, although that’s filled out a bit. He’s quick with a joke and has the exuberance of a big, overgrown kid about everything. His wife Gabi matches him perfectly. I’ve never seen such a well-paired couple! She’s petite and blonde with a gymnasts body, and can match Steffen joke for practical joke. She’s a teacher and her English is better than Steffen’s, so she helps translate conversations between him and me, although I’m getting better at understanding him. Anyone who’s ever learned a second language will know what I mean – his mustache gets in the way of my understanding him! I take a lot of cues from watching peoples’ mouths when they speak, and with his whiskers blocking my view, I can’t do that! He also talks as fast, if not faster, than me!

Simone Schwarze and her husband, Helmar (Helmi) also came. Helmi was used more sense than I did – he knew enough not to swim, even though he does swim with the team. He’s about as consistent in practice attendance as I am. Simone is wonderful. She’s very sweet and tries hard to communicate with me. Her English is about at the same level that my Deutsch was at when I started swimming. She’s very good about making herself understood with sign-language, too! She reminds me of Corey Dubick – tall, slim, short blonde hair, always positive and upbeat with only good things to say about everyone and everything, and she’s always smiling. We swim in the same lane and are about the same speed. She’s slightly faster on breast, and lots faster on back, I’m faster on free and fly. I suspect she was a very good swimmer in her youth. Now, it’s apparent that she enjoys it, but isn’t interested in committing all her time and energy to it. Swimming good enough is good enough. She’s an especially good sport about her husband. Helmi is a riot! He has typical Irish features, of all things! Red hair, blue eyes, a round, fair-skinned face. I’m sure he had freckles as a boy! He’s also quick with a joke and enjoys everything, and Simone is infinitely amused by his antics. Since he wasn’t swimming, he felt free to drink lots of beer at all meals, eat sweets, and generally NOT do what we all should’ve been doing to prepare for the meet! Helmi’s English is so very good that he can make jokes and puns in English. He’d crack himself up, or Steffen would do that, and he’d laugh so hard he’d snort! Then he’d do a little “chhh, chh, chhh” laugh and the “youngsters” on the team (who all swim in Kirchheim) call him Kermi, for Kermit the Frog.

Those four, I found out, are the “East Germans” or at least they were, until about 20 years ago when the Winters’ moved to the West and the Stuttgart area. The Schwarzes followed a few years later. They’d all been friends in Chemnitz, where they’re from. What a fascinating perspective on Dresden and the east! As we passed a dilapidated, concrete tower, they told me that the tower was part of “The Wall”. We were now in the former GDR, or East Germany, and it was somewhat emotional for the former East Germans to “come home.” They were obviously proud of their home, but its history was painful, and the tower remnants from those years brought back memories of people killed trying to get out, of neighbors spying on neighbors, and constant fear of reprisals for some unknown and unintentional “misconduct”.

We detoured to drive through Chemnitz and passed a series of ugly, concrete, rectangular high-rise apartments, very stark, gray and depressing. They rose up out of an otherwise beautiful wooded area and the air of decay and desperation emanating from them seemed to suck up and overwhelm all the natural beauty of the surrounding forest. When I think of “communists” and “Eastern Bloc” this is what I see in my mind, similar to the outskirts of Prague. Helmi explained that these were built by the Russians to house 8,000 families. The apartments were small, poorly built, and horrible to live in, but under the socialist system, you were given a job, pay, and an apartment. You didn’t ask questions or say “I’d rather do something else, or live somewhere else.” The choice was the government’s to make. And someone, neighbors, family, friends, was always there watching to see if someone stepped out of line, and to report it: such a horrible way to live that thousands risked and gave their lives trying to escape.

Our next stop in town was for lunch at a restaurant that the East Germans were all anxious to get to. It’s spezialitaet? Horse meat! Ugh! I wasn’t overly keen on the idea, but there wasn’t much else on the menu, and they were looking expectantly at me to see what I’d do, so of course, I ordered it. Jaegerschnitzel. Turns out when they make horsemeat into Jaegerschnitzel it’s more like SPAM than any real meat, so I choked most of it down, filled up on potatoes and mushroom sauce, then passed it off to Steffen, who was my unofficial plate cleaner when I couldn’t finish a meal. On that note, this is when I first noticed that everyone, including and especially tiny, petite little Gabi, had cleared and cleaned every scrap of food off their plate (and these were big portions!) and did so when I was less than halfway done with mine. Once the meal came there was no more talking and joking, everyone got right down to business! Even without talking, I couldn’t keep up, and I’m no slouch about food. It was quite impressive!

After lunch we went to the reservoir where Steffen and Helmi were the “Bademeisters” (bathing/swimming masters, or head lifeguards/water front directors). The dam itself was a beautiful old stone wall with a walkway along the top. It was built by the Italians either in 1911 or 111 years ago, I’m not sure which version of the English translation was correct. It was old. So old that it had leaked out most of the water and there was a small grassy pond where there once had been a 14 m deep reservoir with boating and fishing along the dam and a swimming area on the upstream side. It was surrounded by a green, densely wooded area, and we walked down a trail to where their (government provided) house had been. There was only part of the foundation left now. The four reminisced about the wonderful times they’d had their, living at the site as Bademeisters and general caretakers of the park. People were still picnicking, sunning, and playing with their dogs around the waters’ edge, and some young men were rock climbing up the outside wall of the dam, but again, that omnipresent sense of decay surrounded it all. It had been maintained by the government – recreation for the masses who were imprisoned in their ugly, small socialist apartments – but now there were other priorities aimed at creating and improving an economy that took time effort and money away from maintaining a recreation area. It was sad and beautiful at the same time; haunting, I suppose, is the right word.

Then we were back in the van and “ready for take off”, as Steffen says, to Dresden.

So, back to describing the rest of our contingent. The other pair from the Nuertingen group was the Sobecks, Hoettle and his wife Brigida. Hoettle is our “coach”, or at least he comes up with the workouts and on Thursdays leads them, but from in the water, so there’s no real “coaching” as in supervised stroke work and stroke improvement going on during practice so much as giving a workout for us to all do together. I knew Hoettle least of the others and had never met Brigida till then (she’s not a swimmer). I wasn’t sure of Hoettle’s age, other than he’s older than all the others, but by no means slower. He’s a bit more serious in practice, and works a bit harder than everyone else. He’s a compact man, very fit, with a broad chest, and just a bit of a belly. I thought he was older than he is (55), but after spending time with him and seeing him “at play” with Steffen and Helmi, he seemed younger, or more his age. The more I got to know him, the more I saw George in him. He has a quick smile and dimples, and his eyes squint up when he laughs; laugh lines crinkle up into the corner of his eyes, and they sparkle with merriment. Very much like George. Their physical appearances aren’t that strikingly similar, other than that glimmer of it every time Hoettle laughed, but the spirit was the same, the enjoyment, the athleticism, love of fun and life. That came through. Although I barely understand Hoettle half the time (damn Schwaebs speaking their own private German language!) I enjoyed his company and his coaching and support during the meet. He was fun and encouraging and I could tell he really cared for every member of his team. Brigida is his second wife and I think she’s younger than him, maybe middle-late 40s. She spoke the best English of the group and spent lots of time translating for me. She’s sweet and funny and comfortable being herself, the non-swimmer surrounded by a bunch of “jocks.” I really liked her and her pleasant nonchalance about the dramas of swimmers and the meet. She was there and supportive, but she, Gabi and Helmi went about doing there own things, and taking advantage of the opportunity to explore Dresden.

We arrived in Dresden at about 17:00 and I was ready for a nap, but this group would have none of that! After drinking two bottles of sekt it was off to the Altstatd (old town) to explore. We walked along the river, then back through and around the Neuestadt (new town) to our hotel (the return walk must’ve been twice as far as the walk there, I’m sure it wasn’t the most direct route!) More about Dresden itself in another story . . .

When we returned for dinner at the hotel, I met “die jungen” or “the youngsters” who swim in Dettingen (the Teck part of Filder-Neckar Teck): Simon and his girlfriend Carina, and Birta, all amazing 20-something swimmers who were lots of fun, and my roommate for the weekend, Elke. She’s 45, so the “kids” referred to her as Tanti Elke. She was hilarious, and beautiful – tall, slim, blonde haired, blue-eyed, with a quick laugh and a great sense of humor. At one point over the weekend, she responded to a wrong number on her handy (cell phone) and ended up SMS-ing and sending pictures to some guy in Bavaria for the whole evening. It was hilarious!

Although I probably only understood about 25% of what was said all weekend, I really enjoyed it. Lots of team bonding over touring, eating, watching the Deutschland victory over Sweden in the World Cup match with Deutsch flag tattoos on our faces, and swimming! Everyone was very tolerant of my limited Deutsch, and my poor swimming performance, too! I think the experience helped my Deutsch, or at least my ear for it, and I am getting a bit more comfortable speaking, even poorly, and am better able to express myself, I think! It definitely motivated me to a) be a bit more consistent in my swimming efforts, and b) work on learning more and improving my Deutsch!