Forget motorcycles, Horses are the new Las Poderosas

After a morning of making our lunch after breakfast, we embarked on the best part of our three day trip: 

Horseback riding. If ever you get the chance to visit Río Muchacho, go horseback riding or regret not going. 

It’s no ordinary endeavor.  The saddles, for one, are not of leather but of wood and these horses are not tamed

to follow every order…they like to break out into a run when they feel the need to and they will stop in

the middle of your ride to nibble on interesting plants along the path.  Giuli’s pregnant mare stopped to nibble

on grass almost every 5 minutes. 

The horse that was a couple with Giuli’s mare snarled at any other male horse that got close to his girlfriend. 

We met Mama Jovita, an amazingly healthy 95 year old lady.  I asked her what she ate in her diet.  She

said, “ I drink soup.”  After we devoured the very filling lunch that we made in the morning, some people took a

mall siesta before we climbed a tricky mountain looking for monkeys.  

We found none, but I found that passion fruit is the most amazing fruit ever!  After what may have been an

hour of climbing up and down a mountain, we hopped back on our horse visited a waterfall, climbed this tree

eating tree (matapalo), and headed back to the farm by horse.  My horse “Marisol” arrived at the farm where the

other horses were and kept riding onward.  I soon found myself alone with Marisol crossing towards another farm.  I

tried turning her around but she went full circle and kept walking away from Río Muchacho.  I then unsaddled myself

and tried to walk her back.  She wouldn’t budge.  I had to use a little force and each step I tugged a little. I wondered

if I was hurting Marisol.  After what seemed like half an hour of taking sluggish small steps back to Río Muchacho, a 

horse taker stopped by and explained to me that no, Marisol was not running away but actually trying to

return home.  

We had electricity the second night but we still slept in a darkness unlike what we were used to.

In pitch black, beware of the imagination. It has the potential to scare you beyond any potential 

dangers out there.  Every hoot, ruffle, whisper, dog bark, or crunch of the leaves on the earth can

leave you feeling as if a man with a machete, a bloody Mary, or la llorona  preparing to fling open 

your cabin door and strangle you while you lay helplessly asleep.  We undergrad girls scared

each other the second night, telling each other stories.  We took a picture in the dark and the

photo turned out to have a eerie shadow in the background.  We ended getting Cesar and making

occupy the empty bed. 

Others had worse luck.  One guy woke up to find his body covered in ants.  He raced outside

to sweep them off of him and then had to share a bed with another guy the rest of the night.