Today was horse back riding. We were both excited to go, and when the jeep pulled up with two locals, we quickly scurried down the stairs. Like a military escort they barley glanced at us, while the driver sucked on a sucker like a recovering chain smoker, the other opened the back hatch of the jeep and watched us get in. Without a word they pulled out, the topless jeep rushing the wind through our hair. We could not have looked more unusual sitting in the back facing each other and smiling with childish glee. Down a road and turning off a dirt path we headed toward the working cattle farm and the adventure tour group called “the flying frog” (Did not ask why so don’t know). We got out and with wordless hand gestures were astride horses before the dust even settled from the tires.
Here I must digress for a moment . . . .
I’ve become one of them. One of those tourist riding horses in sandals. I’m ashamed. With lowered head I placed my opened toed shoe into the stirrup and whispered a plea for forgiveness from all my instructors. What could I do? I hadn’t planned on staying an extra week, or brought pants, or shoes. Instead I was astride my steed in yoga capris and sandals. Oh how the mighty will be humbled. At least I did not have the camera around my neck or the brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.
Okay back on the farm . . .
Gesturing with a branch our guide, Estrular, expected us to know the way, while the horses seemed to silent agree to go as slow as possible. In natural silence we began our travel up a wide dirt road, the horses vying for the best route kept bumping into each other like bumper cars at a carnival. I had uncontrollable laughter from the silliness of the animals and yet again found myself rolling my eyes and apologizing to the other riders. Our first stop was down a cement step path to a large boulder with petroglifs . The designs were beautiful, but I found it strange it was just the one rock. No others have been found and there is no known age or explanations for the drawings. Oh a mystery in the mountains of Nicaragua. Then back on our lumber steeds with names I can’t even pronounce, we headed up the mountain to the top and got a breath-removing view of the whole city of San Juan Del Sur. The bay, the waves, the boats and houses were laid out like a little map in beautiful color and precision. We took a moment to snap pictures like good tourists do and then got back on our horses and headed down, back to the farm. End of the ride, end of the experience. Snapped a few photos of the adorable cows with big ears and road the jeep back to school. Ah horseback riding, always and adventure regardless of the horse.
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