Karin’s first time on a horse

also known as “a very big adventure.”

also known as “Mongolian horses don’t know the word for ’stop!’”

We were to go horseback riding, four at a time. I wasn’t too nervous and the resident cowboy-man must not have been either because we weren’t given any instructions. We were accompanied by Gana, a boy on the smallest horse and hardest saddle who guided us from behind by yelling commands like “No! Stop!” or “No stop!” which of course, have opposite meanings but was delivered by him in the same bossy tone. One of the other girls taught me to how to make my horse turn left and right. And we learned pretty quickly that “choo!” means “go!” in Mongolian. But no one said anything about how to make a horse stop.

10 minutes into the ride, my horse, who was leading the pack, wandered of the main road. The boy yelled belatedly, “stop! stop!” I gave the reigns a little yank but it just seemed to further piss of my already agitated horse. Finally, the horse decided “I’ve had enough if you!” and made a sharp 180 degree turn in the opposite direction, lauching into a full gallop.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the boy gesturing “pull on the reigns!” but my hands were occupied. My grip on the metal handle of the saddle was the only thing keeping me on the runaway horse. As we flew over the hill, out of sight of the others, and we headed through a field of low bushes, I realized that 1. the horse wasn’t planning on throwing me off and 2. a gallop isn’t so scary once you lean back and enjoy the rhythm of the ride.

Before long, I see our camp site, my horse and I making an impressive sight as we rode in.

“Stop! Stop!” the cowboy yelled.

“I’m tryyyyyyyyyying!”My horse slowed down enough for the cowboy to grab its lead and help me off. He pointed to the horse, explaining ”nice horse.” He pointed to me and makes the ‘pull the reigns’ gesture, as in ‘this is what you should have done.’ Then he helped me back on the horse.

I moaned a little “do I have to?” and even though he didn’t understand my English, he understood exactly what I wanted to say. But quitting or getting sued are not in the Mongolian vocabulary so he just handed me my reigns, adjusted my stirrups, and patted me on the back. Then for good measure, reached around and carefully placed his other hand to my chest to comfort the fear in my heart. As a compromise, he assigned Gana’s cousin, Zolvayar, to take my horse’s lead and walk beside us the rest of the trek.

  Zolvayar was my hero.

Later, both Gana and the cowboy told me I was very good on my horse…as in, I didn’t scream or break a bone (as expected). All in all, it was one of the most satisfying experiences I survived in Mongolia yet. Though it would take a whole day for my saddle gripping fingers to regain sensation. 

This entry was posted on July 30, 2008 at 6:09 am and is filed under A first, Mongolia. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.