Why horses?

A few days ago Tessa and I participated in what can only be categorized as the most overt of tourist activities: a horseback ride.  True, a group of tall white women as we five riders were would stick out in any crowd, especially here.  One can only imagine the magnified effect of mounting an animal, one that makes us both taller, and more foreign.

 Also, riding is difficult.  Most people I know have little to no experience on a horse, including everyone I was riding with save our guide.  I hadn’t ridden in about five years, and while there was a time when I was very comfortable in a saddle, that time was not yesterday, and I was a bit afraid of losing my seat a few times.  So the question remains, why is horseback riding such a ubiquitous tourist activity?  Is it really so romantic that people just don’t realize what they’re getting into, the days of soreness not included, and touring companies happen to be well-attuned to this part of the anglo psyche?  It’s just so hoity toity that we are too embarrassed to do it in our regular lives but we feel some license in a foreign place so we excuse ourselves of our ridiculous impulses (this, I suspect, is the reason for a large part of the embarrassing or regretful impressions that foreigners make). 

All of that being said, of course we had a great time.  Sugar cane and coffee fields, vistas of shadowed valleys, a roaring waterfall, near-catastrophic galloping spurts, and a really sore ass.  Love tourism.

“shiiiit man…”

We met a boy named David who had taken lessons at this school for some weeks this fall and has since been travelling.  He was from North Carolina, probably about 21 years old, and very “chill”.  He swore a lot, but in that nice, drawn out way that only southerners and potheads can say “shiiiiiit” and “fuuuuck” and get away with it.  Sitting with him in the town square, talking about having to sell his kayak and how he’s so sad to be missing Ladies’ Night at the local bar, I quickly realized that I was speaking with the prototypically perfect Central American traveler.  His accent is horrendous, his appearance is, to be generous…clothed, his goatee is patchy at best, and he walks through this country with such ease and more than that, implicit and explicit respect.

So I could go on about gender inequality and how Tessa’s having such a hard time getting work as a raft guide and if she were a dude bla bla bla but you get the point.  David’s perfect and I’m not but we were wearing almost the same shirt so I think that should count for something besides the hint at homosexuality.  Mine, not his.  Obviously.

 And for a Papa H. update: Ernest apparently didn’t attend the Nobel ceremony because he hates tuxedos.  Wearing underwear was the most dressed up he ever wanted to be, and he was never known to do so. 

Papa Hemingway

I thought she was joking. No way is there a mostly anecdotal biography of Ernest H. titled “Papa Hemingway”! On this rare occasion, however, Tessa spoke the truth and was kind enough to read some of her favorite gems to me while I was suffering from a mysterious flu-like illness.

El mejor: Papa H. was cheating on his first wife and as soon as they were divorced and he married his mistress, he became impotent. He tried everything to overcome his ailment, visiting doctors, drinking calf’s blood, the works. Finally his new wife, a devout Catholic, suggested that he go to church and pray about it. Papa H. was at the end of his rope at this point so he went and said a little prayer. When he came home, he claims they “made love like they invented it”, and he has been a Catholic ever since. I have hardly known a better reason to practice religion.

Dinner conversation

A few days ago…

Canadian: I love the Ticos!  They are all so nice!

Today…

Tessa: If there’s one thing I hate more than Canadians it’s do-gooders.

Me: What’s the difference?

Tessa: Canadians have tasers.

In other news, I like how it’s socially acceptable (even encouraged and at times demanded) to not wear shoes during air travel.  That’s nice.  There should be more of that.  I’m not wearing shoes right now and it feels great.

yup.

I did it.  The latest and long-awaited step in a life of self-involvement.  Enjoy and do comment.