We began our day by setting off with one of the workers (the only non-gypo) to the shops for a grocery top-up, and on the way back I ended up in the driver's seat. In good ol' red. But M had tinkered with it so it didn't stall every time I stopped or slowed down, so that was a positive outcome for the freeway situation.
Having been in Europe two months now, driving on the right hand side is no trouble, but the crazy overtakers in Romania are. I didn't try to overtake myself, just idled along in the lane, and let the others risk their lives. I noticed that M, in the passenger seat, was putting his foot down on an imaginary brake every time he thought I should slow down. Bless him, he was trying to pretend he wasn't freaking just a little bit.
When we returned, the gypsies realised I could drive and promptly appointed me the new driver of the tractor when they started bailing hay later in the day.
So, when the time came, I pulled myself up into the driver's seat, got some half-assed Romanian instructions from the gypsies and launched into first gear, or some kind of gear. The machine rumbled away around me and as I negotiated the poorly graded road, I glanced occasionally at the poor souls bumping away behind me in the trailer.
Eventually, I was getting pretty pro at the whole operation, except I just didn't have the muscle to shift gears. So the boys had to climb in and carefully and modestly try to help switch the gear stick from one direction to the other, in between my legs. It would've been quite a sight to any of the locals to see a young, fair girl grinding away at the gear stick in her short, leopard print skirt, braless singlet top (why didn't I wear one on such a bumpy ride?? why?) and cowboy hat. I do try to fit in.
So there you have it. I'm now officially a tractor driver. I can add that to my CV. I'm sure my new bosses, whoever they are, will be well impressed.
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
The retarded homing pigeon
OK, so I will explain what happened on my first official trail ride with a paying customer. This woman, W, is holidaying next door at her friend's holiday house and came by to look at the horses one day. She asked for me at the door, which was weird because we'd never met but I talked to her anyway. H wondered why I was being so nice when they were horrible, loud neighbours - the next day she asked to be taken on a trail and I earnt some money for H's business. That's why I'm nice to people like that.
Turns out she's actually a nice lady and was really excited about riding a horse for pretty much the first time in her life. She was on Bobby, reliable little tucker who was bought off a man that used him for his cart all his life so he's not too goey.
Things started out well, I was planning on doing a loop around from one end of the forest, behind the house and back out the other end - didn't quite work out that way. The two-hour mark came and went, and I was getting more and more hopelessly lost. I tried to cover it up but when I thought it seemed ridiculously stupid to pretend it wasn't more than two hours, I admitted we had missed the turn-off (what turn-off? I didn't know where I began, turned left or turned right dammit). The girls had stayed at home because the rest of the horses were turned out to the paddock already. They'd joked I would be lost.
When I was about to cry from frustration, I powered on to the end of a track which led out of the forest. The lady was nice enough to say she was still enjoying herself, while the horses were going mental from all the flies and mozzies around them. I don't blame them! So I looked over and saw a village, said we would head there to ask someone directions and get home as soon as we could.
As we neared the village, I was starting to recognise things but not letting myself believe I'd actually somehow made it back to my own village. Turns out I had. Like a retarded homing pigeon, I'd gotten myself hopelessly lost then somehow squawked my way back to square one. Fantastic. I wish I'd just kept my mouth shut the whole time and pretended I was nice enuf to give her a ride twice as long as she'd paid.
Oh well. I'm pretty sure I scared her off riding for the next few years. Perhaps forever. We all have our purpose in life. Maybe that's mine.
PS. I dreamt last night that I was going to marry Lady GaGa in a threesome situation with another man (and no, GaGa wasn't the man). Then the man ran off and I was left to be in a terrific lesbian love affair with her. As I woke, she was just deciding she was over being a lesbian. A bitch, even in my dreams.
Turns out she's actually a nice lady and was really excited about riding a horse for pretty much the first time in her life. She was on Bobby, reliable little tucker who was bought off a man that used him for his cart all his life so he's not too goey.
Things started out well, I was planning on doing a loop around from one end of the forest, behind the house and back out the other end - didn't quite work out that way. The two-hour mark came and went, and I was getting more and more hopelessly lost. I tried to cover it up but when I thought it seemed ridiculously stupid to pretend it wasn't more than two hours, I admitted we had missed the turn-off (what turn-off? I didn't know where I began, turned left or turned right dammit). The girls had stayed at home because the rest of the horses were turned out to the paddock already. They'd joked I would be lost.
When I was about to cry from frustration, I powered on to the end of a track which led out of the forest. The lady was nice enough to say she was still enjoying herself, while the horses were going mental from all the flies and mozzies around them. I don't blame them! So I looked over and saw a village, said we would head there to ask someone directions and get home as soon as we could.
As we neared the village, I was starting to recognise things but not letting myself believe I'd actually somehow made it back to my own village. Turns out I had. Like a retarded homing pigeon, I'd gotten myself hopelessly lost then somehow squawked my way back to square one. Fantastic. I wish I'd just kept my mouth shut the whole time and pretended I was nice enuf to give her a ride twice as long as she'd paid.
Oh well. I'm pretty sure I scared her off riding for the next few years. Perhaps forever. We all have our purpose in life. Maybe that's mine.
PS. I dreamt last night that I was going to marry Lady GaGa in a threesome situation with another man (and no, GaGa wasn't the man). Then the man ran off and I was left to be in a terrific lesbian love affair with her. As I woke, she was just deciding she was over being a lesbian. A bitch, even in my dreams.
Monday, 2 August 2010
Last day... and the guests are almost gone
Final day of trekking and I'm glad. I don't know how I would've survived the whole week like E did. My knees are not what they used to be. Thank you netball. So we rode a little more, stopped off at a random town for a beer (I seriously contemplated letting the annoying guest's horse loose "by accident") and headed for home. Annoying guest of course couldn't control his horse and so she went off trotting at every chance, to find better grass to eat, and in the end I snapped and said, "Can't you hear a horse back here having a coughing fit and you can't keep your horse under control - sort it out!" Just breathe.
We came back to no housemaid so us girls made the food and tidied a little. Soon after we found out, on pay day, that several of the gypsies were to be fired for laziness etc - including the housemaid - so I'm hoping H doesn't think he's got 3 housemaids in us girls. Grrr.
Annoying guest left the next morning - ce la vie! - and we set about moving the horses from the house stables to the herd in the paddock. Fun times - we just sat in the back of the trailer, tied a couple of horses on to lead and they followed in a roundabout way. Then H bogged us on the way back, and of course being female we could offer no helpful suggestions so I just took photos of the dilemma to remind them of their male stupidity at a more suitable later date.
Not as annoying guest left the morning after as I went out with the next door neighbour to give her her first horseride since childhood, which didn't exactly go as planned. I'll detail that in the next blog. My hands are sore from all this catch-up typing...
We came back to no housemaid so us girls made the food and tidied a little. Soon after we found out, on pay day, that several of the gypsies were to be fired for laziness etc - including the housemaid - so I'm hoping H doesn't think he's got 3 housemaids in us girls. Grrr.
Annoying guest left the next morning - ce la vie! - and we set about moving the horses from the house stables to the herd in the paddock. Fun times - we just sat in the back of the trailer, tied a couple of horses on to lead and they followed in a roundabout way. Then H bogged us on the way back, and of course being female we could offer no helpful suggestions so I just took photos of the dilemma to remind them of their male stupidity at a more suitable later date.
Not as annoying guest left the morning after as I went out with the next door neighbour to give her her first horseride since childhood, which didn't exactly go as planned. I'll detail that in the next blog. My hands are sore from all this catch-up typing...
I swear if I'm pimped out one more time...
Still on our horse trek, we mounted after a good sleep at the Pastor's pension and before taking off for good, stopped in on the little church where me and E walked around while I cooled my tempter at the annoying guests - one of whom suggested ever so kindly that he'd told us how to put the tent up the night before so he wasn't helping again. I almost throttled him. I could put that tent up in my sleep. While throttling him.
We rode on through to another village, where we stopped for a beer and a good old-fashioned pimping. Yes, H finds it increasingly hilarious to offer me up to only-too-willing locals who think I'm the best thing since sliced bread (literally) for their sons.
Only problem is, I kinda like the idea of marrying for love. And if I DIDN'T marry for love, my prospective partner should at least possess material goods, a becoming face and body or something to be used for my personal gain. So I at least get something out of it. I'm not so impressed with a 30 year old that still lives with his parents in a house two steps up from a shack in Romania, with a hole in the ground toilet, can speak hardly any English and with no appealing quality besides nice blues eyes. So you can imagine how pleased I was that H managed to get us to their house for some stupid reason, but really to laugh at the women trying to play matchmaker. I quietly smiled and avoided eye contact with the guy at all costs.
After that little episode, we were back on the horses, did some more little gallops (yay!) - I've discovered I have the fastest horse - and got to the next village we were staying at reasonably well-timed. Although we were in a village, we camped out - us girls in the shelter of a tent outer cover just to screen from mozzies (not so successful) and the others in tents or outside on the hay.
The guests were still bugging me so I was glad when I went to bed - unfortunately, I didn't get much sleep but that did mean I awake to hear L sleep-talking in Swedish. Funny. Hehe. I'm such a child.
We rode on through to another village, where we stopped for a beer and a good old-fashioned pimping. Yes, H finds it increasingly hilarious to offer me up to only-too-willing locals who think I'm the best thing since sliced bread (literally) for their sons.
Only problem is, I kinda like the idea of marrying for love. And if I DIDN'T marry for love, my prospective partner should at least possess material goods, a becoming face and body or something to be used for my personal gain. So I at least get something out of it. I'm not so impressed with a 30 year old that still lives with his parents in a house two steps up from a shack in Romania, with a hole in the ground toilet, can speak hardly any English and with no appealing quality besides nice blues eyes. So you can imagine how pleased I was that H managed to get us to their house for some stupid reason, but really to laugh at the women trying to play matchmaker. I quietly smiled and avoided eye contact with the guy at all costs.
After that little episode, we were back on the horses, did some more little gallops (yay!) - I've discovered I have the fastest horse - and got to the next village we were staying at reasonably well-timed. Although we were in a village, we camped out - us girls in the shelter of a tent outer cover just to screen from mozzies (not so successful) and the others in tents or outside on the hay.
The guests were still bugging me so I was glad when I went to bed - unfortunately, I didn't get much sleep but that did mean I awake to hear L sleep-talking in Swedish. Funny. Hehe. I'm such a child.
First the gypos, now the shepherds
Just when I thought I'd experienced enuf of the "locals" by hanging with the gypsies, H throws us another curveball and sends the horse trek via a shepherds station to spend the night. I arrived with M with the supplies, as I hadn't joined the trail yet, and we got to work quickly on setting up tents. Worked out soon after that what I thought had been packed had indeed not been packed. Never trust a gypo to pack your things.
For dinner, they threw a freshly slaughtered lamb (minus head and guts, luckily) onto our soon-to-be dinner table and the men got to work sorting out the cuts. I just hate the sound of spines breaking. Shudder. Not sure why they even bothered with the design of the cuts, they ended up being thrown into one big bowl to cook in a soup over the fire anyway. I wasn't sure what part I had gotten in my bowl and the smell of slaughtered lamb was still a little fresh in my nostrils, so I didn't eat much. Lucky, the next day I was a litttttle uneasy in the stomach but it could've been much worse.
The guests were still grating on me. Particularly one of them. We all agree, now he's left, that he definitely had a screw loose somewhere. Like god had forgotten to signpost the roads when he made his highway of life. And the funniest thing is, this guy looks after children for a living!
The next day we rode to another village, didn't get too lost (probably because I wasn't leading) and I got my fave horse Goody back :) He was very tired, as the day before they'd unintentionally ridden for 12 hours because they got lost. Hell, I know that feeling. We were put up in the pension of a pastor, his wife and adorable little boy (who flicked between Romanian, Hungarian and German when talking), fed lovely food and enjoyed good conversation with these people who were just so nice. On such a remark to H, I was told they really overcharged for their pension. Ha! You just never know...
I had a good sleep, was gone before E even entered the room, and yet still woke up really early when it was still dark and thought there was a black dog in the bed next to me instead of a Swedish girl. I swear I do that EVERY night. It's really weird.
For dinner, they threw a freshly slaughtered lamb (minus head and guts, luckily) onto our soon-to-be dinner table and the men got to work sorting out the cuts. I just hate the sound of spines breaking. Shudder. Not sure why they even bothered with the design of the cuts, they ended up being thrown into one big bowl to cook in a soup over the fire anyway. I wasn't sure what part I had gotten in my bowl and the smell of slaughtered lamb was still a little fresh in my nostrils, so I didn't eat much. Lucky, the next day I was a litttttle uneasy in the stomach but it could've been much worse.
The guests were still grating on me. Particularly one of them. We all agree, now he's left, that he definitely had a screw loose somewhere. Like god had forgotten to signpost the roads when he made his highway of life. And the funniest thing is, this guy looks after children for a living!
The next day we rode to another village, didn't get too lost (probably because I wasn't leading) and I got my fave horse Goody back :) He was very tired, as the day before they'd unintentionally ridden for 12 hours because they got lost. Hell, I know that feeling. We were put up in the pension of a pastor, his wife and adorable little boy (who flicked between Romanian, Hungarian and German when talking), fed lovely food and enjoyed good conversation with these people who were just so nice. On such a remark to H, I was told they really overcharged for their pension. Ha! You just never know...
I had a good sleep, was gone before E even entered the room, and yet still woke up really early when it was still dark and thought there was a black dog in the bed next to me instead of a Swedish girl. I swear I do that EVERY night. It's really weird.
Riding Alone: When I push the boundaries
The day before I was due to join the others on their multi-day horse trek, I took out this grey who hasn't been ridden much cos she has a cough when she runs a bit. But I thought I'd give her a go and decided that that day, of all days, in the wind, by myself, I should go up through the backyard to try and find or create a new path into the bush from H's house. Dear god was that a mistake. I found a path alright, but it was steep steep steep - not normally a challenge for me but when the horse is neighing to kingdom come for her friends downstairs and its wet n slippery and there's not much room for error... well, I got halfway up and she balked, started refusing to move, neighing etc and i could just see her placing 1 feet outta line and BAM down i go with her tumbling after. No thanks.
So I got off and tried to lead her up. A couple of steps in and i'm stumbling myself, she tried to turn back and slips onto her ass and literally slides down the hill in a upright sitting position (bit funny but also scary considering I could've been stuck in a stirrup underneath her). So she ran. And I let her. Then I had to slowly make my own way down with Bertus and ended up coming out in someone's backyard, and walking around to the house. The gypsies just stared at me in confusion - it was too hard to explain in charades that I hadn't fallen off so I just laughed and shrugged at them. When I got back, the horse was at the trough eating hay. Bless.
I untangled her (amazingly unbroken) reins, jumped back on and went for a ride around the village. She's a goey little thing, didn't cough too much and I was able to get her moving easily and get some exercise into her. The villagers must've thought I was crazy, bolting up and down the streets around town. haha... but it was all under control. Fun times tho! I must ride her again..
So I got off and tried to lead her up. A couple of steps in and i'm stumbling myself, she tried to turn back and slips onto her ass and literally slides down the hill in a upright sitting position (bit funny but also scary considering I could've been stuck in a stirrup underneath her). So she ran. And I let her. Then I had to slowly make my own way down with Bertus and ended up coming out in someone's backyard, and walking around to the house. The gypsies just stared at me in confusion - it was too hard to explain in charades that I hadn't fallen off so I just laughed and shrugged at them. When I got back, the horse was at the trough eating hay. Bless.
I untangled her (amazingly unbroken) reins, jumped back on and went for a ride around the village. She's a goey little thing, didn't cough too much and I was able to get her moving easily and get some exercise into her. The villagers must've thought I was crazy, bolting up and down the streets around town. haha... but it was all under control. Fun times tho! I must ride her again..
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