ll about. I had my doubts that the center of this huge city could have any kind of legitimate horse experience and when it came time to pay the 15peso entrance I was setting myself up for a bit of a let-down. Long story short we ended up watching some horse sales, shopping for some polo gear, and looking at the rows upon rows of criollo horses. After watching some of the reigning competition, my friend ended up leaving as she had to get home but I decided to wander outside to the warm-up ring for more photo opportunities. All the gauchos were hanging out with their horses, and polo and pato players were warming up. After being wrapped up in taking their pictures I noticed a peruano horse being exercised for sale and decided to test out my spanish with some of the horse owners. After chatting with several, I was directed to a woman who knew some english. We talked horses for a while and I expressed how I wished there were somewhere close by I could just ride instead of paying for expensive tourist rides that only allowed you to walk. Turns out I was talking to the right lady. My new friend Valerie is a very successful barrel racer in Argentina and her husband is a talented trainer of criollo horses - he "makes" horses as she says. So she loaded me up with plenty of free passes for the next day of competition and I left with her phone number, an invitation to her farm, and the bus number i would have to take with the direction that she would "pick me up at the gas station."Fast forward to Wednesday, the 21st. I am woken up by a call from an unknown number, and stumbling to the dresser I answer with a raspy "Hola?!" After a short conversation with my new friend, I have all the information I need and am on my way to Plaza Italia with 2 freshly bought empanadas and no idea what to expect.
I wish I could say my language skills and independence have improved enough to make the bus stop a breeze but it's not quite there. After some translation by fellow spanglish speakers and an understanding driver, I had a round-trip ticket to Pilar..about an hour trip each way. I saw my bus, jumped on, and closed my eyes for the ride.
About 40 minutes in, with a panicky feeling in my stomach, I realized I had no idea where to get off. In desperation, I asked the girl next to me "Hablas ingles?!" and to my huge relief she responded with a smile and "yes."
Again, luck and the ever-friendly people of this country were on my side again. She talked to Valerie and happened to know the bus driver and set it up so he would tell me when it was my turn to get off. After that, we chatted about the cultures, her one visit to the states, and I answered her many questions about things like cheerleaders and sororities. When it came time for her stop we went to the front and exchanged numbers to hang out in BsAs later. She thought I was very brave, and I'm sure a bit stupid after realizing I was on a bus, didn't speak the language. and was headed to a strangers house but assured me the people in Pilar were extremely nice and I was going to love being out of the city. She wished me luck, and two stops later I was given my queue and hopped off on the side of a highway next to my destined gas station. Sure enough, Val was there and after a quick hug and hello we headed off. We caught up a bit, talked about her kids and husband, about her horses and accidents, competitions and accomplishments.
A few minutes later we pulled up to a quaint but beautiful estancia-style house in a secluded half-wooded, half-field area. The whole house was decorated in photos of her family’s life with horses, old saddles of varying styles, bits and a a huge mate collection she attributed to her husband Gonzalo. After more talk, and playing with her 3 awesome dogs I was introduced to Linda, her 8 year old chestnut Arabian mare and best friend. She invited me to eat some sandwiches and juice while we talked and my favorite of the dogs, a rescued golden retriever laid his head on my lap while Linda wandered close by.
Soon, it was time to ride. She groomed and tacked up with a smoother looking western saddle that her friend makes (super light weight) and told me to hop on. After some walking and just getting comfortable she taught me the basics of barrels, showing me the hip movements, how to look and stressing that Linda knew what she was doing, and if anything went wrong it would be because of my mistake not hers. So the pressure was on! Soon though I had her cantering a figure 8 around the 2 barrels and was feeling great being back in the saddle. Val’s daughter came out and watched and brought mate that we all drank to give Linda a break. I couldn't stop smiling already - drinking mate with locals I had met on my own, yelling and giving commands in Spanish on top of an incredible horse in a beautiful place outside the noise and rush of the city, meeting more and more friendly people as the day went on.
But then she took it a step further, and I don't think I've stopped smiling since. When I first met her she had mentioned showing her horse without a bridle, but I did not expect her to do the same for me. But sure enough she was leaning forward, taking Linda's entire bridle off and replacing it with about a 4 foot rope for something to hold onto around her neck. I was pumped. We started right off, and the horse was amazing...at one point I was going the fastest I had, staying tight to the barrels and got frustrated when we made a wider turn. Val had to shout to me, "remember, you are riding without a bridle!" We galloped a bit around the pen, testing out turns, and getting more and more comfortable with the speed and the sudden changes in direction before calling it a day. I had been riding for almost 4 hours and could tell I was going to be in pain the next day, but didn't care. I have always wanted to try barrel racing, and I'm not sure if my into to the sport could be topped.
Before leaving I watched some youtube videos of her husband’s horses, drank chocolate milk and eased off the leather paddock boots she had lent me for the day. Her daughters friend came over and we all hung out listening to The Beatles and Maroon5, waiting for her to get ready for work. The whole time I was in a mixed state of shock and bliss. It was the most comfortable I had been yet in BsAs, with the type of people and lifestyle I love most, and I felt completely at ease and in my element. I was proud that I had followed my gut instead of letting the fear of going alone or going with a stranger stop me.
So, saying goodbye to the dogs, and jumping in the back seat with my adopted family of the day, we headed back to town. Her husband and step-son met us there as we dropped the daughter off at work and all made a combined effort to help me catch the right bus back with careful directions which stop to take. With lots of hugs and kisses goodbye, I thanked them, and jumped on my bus home. I hope to see them again and even more so - to continue to take even more opportunities as they come.
It was a seemingly small event, but for me it was a pivotal part of my experience here, and I will never forget the day I took the colectivo to a bus station somewhere in Argentina.
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