Ridin´ high? No, ridin´ drunk.

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.

Bolting horses and lost phone courses

So the asshole at the border. He decided that I'd come into the UK too many times since my visa expired in June and hence asked me a million questions to suss out exactly what I was doing coming back again. After explaining - several times - that the only reason I had 2 stamps in my passport already was because I went before and after a flight back to Oz, but he wouldn't listen. Trying to keep my temper and also make my bus connection back to London, I patiently listened to him warble on about his suspicions that my activities in eastern Europe were most likely illegal and therefore he was suspicious of me in general etc etc.

Anyway, long story short, he downgraded my passport stamp to one which would raise eyebrows next time I came in and gave me sufficient reason to question any further need to visit my friends in London for quite some time. As I say, asshole.

Slightly shaken, I was finally in the UK and off to party with friends. Well, it wasn't quite as smooth as that because I hadn't actually told anyone I was coming so most of them had plans. Regardless, some of the old faithfuls came out of the woodwork and presto, I had a night! Not only did I end up at my favourite boy's house but I scored his hoodie which is super comfy and, although it is now covered with horse, cat and dog hair, and odd stains (minds out of gutters thanks) is still a lifesaver as England comes to grips with the onset of winter. It smells of horse but I still sleep in the damn thing.

My time in Ramsey, Cambridgeshire has been so lovely. The lady I'm staying with, a friend I made while working at the Romanian trail place, is just a pleasure to know and I am so glad I came to visit. She is about my mum's age with kids younger than me, but we get on like a house on fire and she is so generous. I want to make sure I get up tomorrow so I can get her a thank you gift.

Anyway, the first day I rode a horse that bolted on me. Apparently doesn't bolt on anyone else but me, so that made me feel great. Managed to slow it down sufficiently so all was good. Today I rode 2 more, much more enjoyable except that I lost my mobile as I cantered along at some point. Looked everywhere for it but alas, it's been sucked into some muddy shithole never to be seen again. A shame, as I used it for a memory stick/USB as well, but there you go. Zip your pockets up properly, kids. Reminds me of the time I didn't do my shoelaces up when I was 5 and went careering down a flight of stairs into a glass window at the bottom. Good times.

So I'm off back to London tomorrow night, more riding tomorrow and some more dog walking, hopefully the weather will continue to be beautiful and I will continue to be happy.