Horseback Riding in Portugal
Because I am missing Sangroncito, I started thinking about my travels from my youth. I think Portugal was my favorite but it was my first foreign cultural experience. I was 15 and got spend the entire summer there, mostly in a little fishing town called Cascais. Our apartment was right across the street from some cliffs. Just beautiful. One time while there my step-dad decided to take us horseback riding. Okay, great. I had been to camp and that should be good enough, right? We got to these stables and this man bantered back and forth to my step-dad in steady Portuguese pointing at me and my younger brother. Apparently we were to have guides. This strapping bronze man was my guide and he led me to my horse. First thing I noticed, these horses were much taller than they were at camp. Second thing I notice, there is no horn thingy on the saddle. WTF?! It was an english saddle. I tried and I tried to get on that horse. In the end, my bronze guide had to push me up by my rear to get me on. My younger brother got this hugely fat white horse that decided to roll over and scratch his back with my brother on him. Have you ever seen an 9 year old yell "oh shit!" with a pale-white face? My guide was a little irritated that my brother "let" the horse do that. Whatever. Okay so now it is time for the ride and in my mind I am thinking it would be like the movies because we get to run the horses on the beach and through the mountain trails. How awesome! Just one thing was wrong. Apparently I was too young or they didn't have enough trust in my horse abilities that my guide actually had a leash from my horse to his. I had to be leashed to his horse! How humiliating. My brothers never let me live that one down. Except for my younger brother because if he ever says anything I just mimic him in a panicked voice "oh shit!". So what is the lesson I learned from all of this? Next time you watch a movie and see a young girl on horseback with the wind flowing through her hair as the legs of the horse splash in the waves sending a mist around her budding body, look for the leash. It's bound to be there.
posted by Daphnewood @ 9:44 AM
6 comments
6 Comments:
"Look for the leash." Nice. Not to mention totally true. Beauty, wonder, and all those lovey dovey things exist, but not the way most TV portrays it. I'm no expert, but it seems to be that the best thing in life comes with the worst of things, and you have to be fine with that if you're going to live a full life.
P.S. I try not to hear my parents' voice in my head. Certainly the voices grow quieter when I surround myself with people who know how to love me.
Great story mum, I remember it. ^^ And I'll keep an eye out for those leases. o.-
Got your email daphne, hope this works and that u get this one. I'm good, thanks for asking. I liked this post, especially since when I was 10, and in the Dominican Republic, I thought I'd try my hand at horseback riding. to this day, I will NEVER go again. Horse was VERY tall and kept scratching it's ass on the trees that kept hitting me in the face, and me, no experience, it decided to take off without the guide and RUN! However, my daughter and my sister just signed up for classes, funny huh?
Yay!!! Portugal stories!!
This is a great story, with a deep moral (which I will try like mad to remember). And it's nice to be reminded of Cascais - when I lived in Lisbon (until Danish man dragged me into the suburbs, I had made it a point to always live in the city, me being a bit of a city snob that way), I used to like going to Estoril, or a few stops before, and then walking along to Cascais along the esplanade. At any time of year.
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