I am really annoying myself. I’m afraid of everything: treehouses, wild rivers, speaking Spanish, not being able to find my way back to the hotel, horses… Horses? I’ve ridden off and on since I was a teenager. I’ve never been afraid of horses. Respectful, yes, and even wary at times, but not fearful. I was so excited about our scheduled riding trip today. The plan was to do a jungle and beach ride, and if the ocean cooperated, to go swimming in the sea with the horses.
But when it came time to board my mount, I was anxious. I requested (and got) a docile horse, one named Balsam. So what was there to worry about? “Horses are not like cars,” said our guide. They have a mind of their own.” So that’s one thing. They do tend to like to scrape you off under trees and stuff like that, which my Subaru would never do of its own accord. And then there’s the distance to the ground. I guess the earth was closer to my cabeza when I was smaller. But the fact is, I’m just more timorous than I was even ten years ago. And that makes me mad.
We embarked on our ride, Molly on a much more spirited horse than mine, which she enjoyed. We rode through deep, boggy mud in the jungle at first. At one point I looked up toward our leader (there were just the three of us) and she was wearing a large scorpion on her leg, tail curled and stinger threatening. I notified her and she quickly brushed it off without further ado.
It turned out the water was too rough for us to ride in it, but we took a nice little meander between jungle and beach, making our way down to Punta Uva. Uva means “grape” and we rode by and sampled from a wild grape tree. After an hour, our leader asked me if I wanted to trot. I hate trotting, but I said yes. So I bounced along holding on for dear life for a minute or two. Then my left foot slipped out of the stirrup. Luckily, our leader stopped right after that and I stayed in the saddle.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. We stopped at a stand on the beach where Molly enjoyed a pipe, which is a young coconut with its head sawed off and a straw popped in so you can drink the clear water.
We got safely back to the stable. I’m not going to ride again unless I’m put on a wide platform atop the horse’s back, with a seatbelt.
We took a long and bumpy taxi ride back to Puerto Veijo, with Molly chatting merrily in Spanish to the driver. Then M and I went to search for food. She found a cute little organic vegetarian place right on the beach in town, where I got bean tacos and she a sandwich in corn bread. Oh, and I got another batido (fresh fruit smoothie), this one with pineapple, passionfruit and banana. Delicious.
After just hanging out in our room for a couple hours, we went out to our final dinner in PV at Koki Beach Restaurant where I indulged in yet more passionfruit, this time in daiquiri form. Molly ate garlic shrimp, and I ate Caribbean red snapper. We had the best waitress I’ve ever had, and then we walked back through the darkened but busy town, with Molly as usual leading the way, since I could get lost in a bathtub.
My luggage is pretty much packed and ready for our 6:15 a.m. departure tomorrow. The alarm is set for 5:00. I’m tucked into my mosquito net for the night. Last night was the first night I didn’t, and I regretted it. Goodnight.