Writing Wrongs

May 14, 2005

I think I�m sufficiently removed from this bit of Aruba trauma to share it. At least, I hope so.

It all started when Bob mentioned he really wanted to go horseback riding. He rode while growing up in Utah. In fact, �Tahmaseb� means �of the strong horses.� How can we actually visit someplace that has horseback riding and not try it.

Except. My maiden name is Collins, from the Gaelic, meaning �freaking terrified of horses.� Bob says they can smell fear and the key is not to show it. Heck, the popular clique in high school could do the same and I didn�t see the point in spending time with them either.

But I go. Because I try to be a good wife (although Bob might argue this). I was going to say the ranch was called Rancho Diablo, but I can�t, because look! Here they are on the web: Rancho Daimari.

They boast the best horseback riding in Aruba. Not being a horsewoman, I can�t dispute this. However, they go on to say:

We know that your visit to our ranch will be the highlight of your Aruban vacation, and we look forward to sharing this ambience with you and your family.

If by highlight of your Aruban vacation they mean terrifying descent into hell, then yes, I have to agree, it was.

Our first clue should have been the fact that most motorized vehicles can�t reach the ranch and that the pickup van�s driver had looped a rosary around the rearview mirror. Nice.

In all the times I�ve tried this horseback riding thing, I�ve always admitted I don�t know how to ride. I�m not a showoff. I�m not pretending to be something I�m not. So why is it I always end up with the �problem� horse?

Bob ends up on a horse named Mr. Bill (for those who remember Mr. Bill from Saturday Night Live). That really should have been our second clue. I get a horse named Lucrecia. The name has obscure Latin origins, meaning spawn of the devil.

This is a horse that likes no one. From the moment we left the stables, she kept trying to cut in line and skirt around the other horses. On a narrow, hilly (think mountainous) path, this isn�t possible.

My third clue came when the horse in front of me tripped and went down on its front two legs and its rider went rolling off the top of it. Yeah. Right in front of me. And I�m thinking, oh, my God, this is my fate, and unlike the other rider, I have no idea how to roll off a horse. I�m a dead woman. (The other rider was just fine. My nerves, however, were not.)

In retrospect, I�m pretty sure that because this horse would not let Lucrecia pass, she put a hex on it.

Wait. Scratch that. I�m absolutely sure.

Okay. Honestly? When we were away from everyone, things were fine. Well, maybe just okay or not too awful. Get us close and Lucrecia starts kicking the other horses. She goes out of her way to kick the other horses. I am cussed out by the advance horsewomen in the group (see above about popular clique, although there was one very nice woman who didn�t hold my horse against me.)

So we arrive at the Natural Pool, where we can partake of the restorative waters. In theory this sounds good. In practice, riding demon horse while soaking wet does not, so I use the break to psych myself up for the ride back. And here�s where we get our fourth and final clue: Lucrecia is corralled away from all the other horses.

I have the �mean girl� of horses.

On the way back, we �get� to gallop along the beach. Yippee! Let�s go even faster than we have been, because let�s face it, no one�s prying off the death grip I have on the saddle anyway. After the sand, the guide announces, we�re done. We�ll be back at the ranch.

Except we�re not. I mean, I can see it in the distance, but �back at the ranch� is relative, and there�s plenty of rough, rider-pitching terrain in between. The guide implores us: �Faster, Lucrecia. Get with it! You�re holding up the line.�

Because this has been his litany during the entire ride, both Lucrecia and I are pros at ignoring him. He matters not. What matters is the stable. And yet, somehow, the guides are compelled to help everyone else around me off their horses first. Lucrecia continues kicking the other horses for good measure and I begin to see her point. I feel like kicking random passersby as well.

At last I�m free. And in one piece. And I tell Bob that next time there�s horseback riding, he can go alone. In fact, if the last ride out of hell is on a horse, I�ll have to think about it.

Me trying to be open-minded about this whole horse thing (with a horse that is not Lucrecia).

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 3:13 p.m.

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