Lordy, that´ll be a horse then
Monteverde Travel Blog› entry 35 of 72 › view all entries
December 15th, 2006 – by: Higton
Five hours on horseback hurts one´s arse, official. By Jiminy, it was fun though. We left Monteverde and descended into a wooded valley. Every now and then, the views of the Gulf of Nicoya were spectacular. As well as us three, there were two Norwegian girls along for the ride. Now, I´m no horseman and these ladies apparently owned one. Perhaps this was the reason the guide kept letting them go to the front. And maybe this is why he kept lightly slapping a whip onto the rump of the blonde girl´s horse. It might even be the reason that when even Tots, Rob or I approached the front, he sent his lackey back to ensure we didn´t go any further.
Some Waterfall Whose Name I Forget
At the half way point, we left our mounts munching grass and took a walk up to some waterfall. I wish I could remember the name because it was a beautiful spot. Typically, it was only myself that braved the sharp rocks and water and it was as cold as the Tabacon springs were hot. Brrr. It was a magical place to eat pineapple and melon and just relax. And the swirling water vapour did groovy things to the light. It seemed hard to believe that we were the only ones there - I suspected that there would be hordes of other tourists. I really did not want to get back on a horse.
San Juan Makes Coffee For The Gods
Now, I was sceptical about this coffee tour that Rob organised.
Monteverde and the immediate surroundings are full of Quakers. This makes drinking problematic. The only bar in the place was frequented by rowdy Ticos watching a Saprissa match. So we went to the Rodeo, where they had a bar and all manner of deep-fried goods. And more cakes.
The Rodeo was a bit of a farce. Some crazed locals decided that it was a good idea to get on the back of a raging bull and try not to get thrown off. Two of the ten succeeded. One of them was hospitalised. I guess being trampled by a half ton cow would do that to you. There were also a number of people in the ring as spectators. ROSPA would have a fit. Initially, this included a couple of idiot foreigners who, I am sad to report, looked English. They hung around for exactly one bout (what is a rodeo ride called?) when I believe even their drunken brains appreciated the error of their ways. When the rider had been dumped on the ground, the World´s crappest cowboys showed off their appalling lassoing skills. They were frankly shoddy, with the older of the two finally grabbing his bull on the twentieth attempt. And it was also bloody cold.
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