On Sunday, we had arranged to go horseriding with a group from the hostel, but I´m not really sure why... none of us got home before 7am and the receptionist was on a night shift so we were well n truly fucked come the 9am wakeup. However, in my typical "up n at ´em" style, I was awake and ready in about 2 minutes, having prepared my things 2 hours earlier before collapsing into bed. The others... not so prompt. The hot Bs As guy from my room couldn´t even get out of bed. Well, he did, but then he just went to the toilet and crawled back in there.
Oh well, we still had a respectable sized group of Germans, Brazilians, Australians and Argentinians to enjoy the day. We trundled along in the car and got to our little town about 40 mins out of Salta, and the horses were all there waiting for us. I was given the half polo/half criollo horse R had told me about the night before, and it was good from the get-go.
Still mostly being drunk, the other Australian lady almost fell off the horse trying to get on, and I myself had the usual flexibility issues... after talking myself up all the night before... Still so embarrassing. But it was cold... oh, so cold. Well, I was OK but the poor little Brazilian girl was chattering her teeth off.
We set off in reasonable spirits, a good effort all considering... and enjoyed a nice ride through the forest, up and down the mountain, cantering, trotting, walking, nothing was a problem for these horses... with the gaucho playing sweet songs on his little recorder. Ahhh, how´s the serenity.
Then came the asado (Argentinian for BBQ). Set in the "house" of the only man who lives in the valley, we were surrounded by beautiful mountains (which we couldn´t really see through the clouds that day, unfortunately), geese, goats, cows, dogs, cats and of course, horses.
The vino came out and while we were waiting - and indeed consuming - the asado we dug in with fervour. This meant, of course, that there was much dancing around the fire to the music the gaucho played on his recorder and guitar. There is something so romantic about a gaucho with a good set of pipes. Sigh.
We were understandably more animated on the ride back to the town, and after some classic pics with L backward on his horse, us riding 2 people on the horse and me basically refusing to use my hands for the entire trip back, it was at the very least entertaining. The guides just hung back and let us do our thing at the front, and occasionally yelled for us to WAIT.
A momentarily panic happened on the way home, when the gaucho let his horse go to go for a piss, and it BOLTED home, the saddled slipping under it and totally freaking it out. I jumped off to help and then when all was settled, changed horse for the last strip with R for her Peruvian horse. It was MUCH more comfortable, not that I thought Colarado was uncomfortable, and I had a nice gallop on him.
All in all, an awesome day and for the mega discount I got from L, a MASSIVE bargain. SUPER SWEET.
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