... and Hello, Horses

Above, a happy horseback moment with Jon, Jen, and our guide from Club Farah. It was a beautiful afternoon for a ride, not that I had much time to soak in the atmosphere. (photo by Jacqueline)

About a year ago, Jacqueline and I had tried to go horseback riding but never managed to organize a trip. But on the Sunday afternoon of our Fes finale weekend, along with an eager Jon and Jen, we rode the train to Meknes, then a taxi to Club Farah, a riding club in the hills outside the city.

Jon and Jacqueline both knew the basics, having ridden a few times, while my experience was limited to one quick, exhilarating ride a few years earlier in Petra. That left Jen—as the only member of our party with any considerable riding experience—to help the stable hands select suitable mounts for us. ("Stallions?! Um, no. Mares—do you have any old, slow mares? Very calm?")

Soon I was bouncing across the nearby fields, at just a trot yet already a mess of flailing limbs, swinging stirrups, and lost reins, trying for dear life to cling to my rock-hard saddle. Jen helped considerably to sort me out, adjust some straps, and help me overcome my instinct to clamp my
legs on the beast and simply suffer the full-body hammering for an hour.

By the end of our ride, I think my old gray mare and I almost had a rhythm going. And in the interim, I had, if nothing else, managed to provide the others with some unforgettable entertainment.

Back at the stable, safely back on firm ground, I decided the ride—though brief, and very painful—was worthy of counting among my favorite experiences here in Morocco. Looking forward to my next ride.