1. 106 Family Holiday & Leisure Winter 2013 www.familyholidayandleisure.com
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me, the sea,
and the
stallion
So there I was, frolicking on a
tropical island, enjoying all things
luxurious. I was invited to review
the resort, and with that little magical
word“journalist”next to my name, I was
being treated to the most wonderful
package, and the staff were attentive and
kind. I LOVED it! I was moving in. I don’t
get this kind of pampering when I’m at
home. And when the activities manager
suggested a horse ride, well a horse swim
actually, in the warm azure ocean, I jumped
at the chance.
Never once did I connect the dots
between horse swimming in the ocean
= no saddle = no stirrups to get me up
onto the damn thing. No. Rather I had
visions of myself dressed in white flowy
things, sexily galloping bareback down
the beach, my hair long and shiny and
bouncing seductively in the soft afternoon
light. Just like you used to see in those
ciggie ads in the bioscopes. But that
movie reel snapped rather suddenly. It
was a startling reality check to realize that I
somehow had to get onto this ginormous
horse directly from the ground. And being
on the beach, there was no handy little
half-wall that I could stand on either.“Not
a problem”said my local guide, in his best
English“I help you on top. You put left leg
here”pointing to the top of his very little
thigh“and you put other leg there.”Pointing
to the top of the very large horse.“Take
shoes off and then no problem.”I loved
that things were never a problem with
these helpful people. I took off my shoes,
felt the sand between my toes, took in
his chicken-bone sized thigh, and vowed
to start the diet as soon as I got home.
And then a few more dots that I had failed
to connect became obvious. Sandy feet =
slippery feet = sliding off his little leg = me
ending up sprawled on the sand at the
bottom of the horse in the most ungainly
fashion. Not my most elegant moment.
But then that magic word kicked in
again, he had obviously been primed that
I was a journalist and had to show me the
best experience ever. He had me on my
feet again and brushed off in seconds.“No
problem, we do again.”A-hem, yes, let’s.
This time though he jabbered in
Portuguese to his two other buddies
who were there to help. He assumed a
very deep and low squat, preparing
haka-like for the onslaught he was about
to receive, one buddy was positioned to
support him from behind and me when I
got onto his leg, and the other buddy was
positioned on the other side of the horse,
with strict instructions to catch whatever he
could of the mama that was about to be
launched onto the horse, and pulled up
and over. It was the back-up manoeuvre
they had talked about and practised and
seen demonstrated, but now, this was their
time to shine. This was their moment to
make it happen. I had visions of a coach
with a white towel slung around his neck,
massaging the shoulders of the guide, and
whispering instructions to him. I felt the
guide brace himself, and count to his
friends, and Um… Dois… Três… HUP!
And there I was, on top of the horse,
triumphantly clinging to the mane, and
ready to ride.“See,”he said with a cheeky
grin,”no problem.”
Sometimes in life you just have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off,
and get back in the saddle.