falling off the horse

Fri Feb 4, 2005
Subject: falling off the horse

It's been less than a week and already I feel like I've been here forever - in the best way, of course! Yesterday I learned how to read Arabic numbers (nothing like ours at all) - I can't say them, but I can now recognize them in the written form.

Karen, whom I mentioned in my first email, is the woman I'm staying with. Initially I was only supposed to stay with her one night, but we have hit it off, and I love being here, so one night has turned into four. I met Karen via a friend (Hi Carol Ann!), and she's been an absolute godsend. She's been bustling me from place to place looking at flats and aiding me in the whole decision-making process - and quite the process it is, too! Karen knows what pitfalls to look for and is good about pointing out things that I wouldn't notice - things like no screens on the windows so that mosquitoes will get in, bad phone lines, nasty grout in the bathroom and supremely ugly furnishings - okay, I notice ugly furniture; Karen points out that it's okay if I hate it.

Last night we had dinner with Karen's bawab (baa-web), in simplest terms, he is the building's caretaker - I cannot begin to spell his name correctly, so may be butchering it here - but it sounds like Medhadt - he and his wife have six children, five of whom were with us for dinner - sweet little things they are - they are learning English so we spent last night swapping English words for Arabic words.

Every building in Cairo has a bawab. The bawab runs errands for tenants, takes care of the garbage, keeps an eye on things. They tend to be very poor, and their living conditions are not comfortable by any American standard. Last night 9 of us crowded around a table that was about 3 feet in diameter. The table was in the kitchen. The kitchen is outdoors, on the side of the apartment building. Medhadt's wife and the children live in Middle Egypt; it is too expensive for the whole family to live in Cairo. They come to Cairo and stay with Medhadt when the children have a break from school. Egyptians are extrodinarily generous, kind people. I have met only warm and welcoming people since I've been here, and Medhadt's family is no exception.

Medhat's wife is an amazing cook, and I sat down to my first real Egyptian dinner. As most of you know I'm pretty picky about my food - the Cootie Factor and all, you know. Egyptians eat their dinner family style where spoons are shared and bread is used to scoop food, all out of the same dishes - (no, Uncle Sam, I did not blow on anything in an effort to remove unsavory germs!) I put my squeamish-ness aside and ate like a little piggy. Our hostess kept putting more and more fish in front of me - I waddled out of their home, my hand rubbing my full belly, a satisfied smile pasted on my face - shukran! (thank you!)

Today Karen's friend, Ahmed (Ahaa-med - I am still working on getting the right sound to the "AH"!) took me horseback riding out near the pyramids. I have been on a horse in the US maybe six times in my life, and I told him this when he asked. But to me being on a horse means getting some old, mellow trail horse that follows a path in a line of twenty other horses and does nothing more wild than to eat leaves off bushes from the side of the road. It did not occur to me that it would be any different here.

But of course, it was.

Amhed owns his own horse - Paul ;), after a Scottish boss he used to have - I rode Lulu, who belonged to a person who apparently did not know that his horse was being rented out by the hour. (I found this out three-quarters of the way through the ride). We began our ride after a lot of standing around and chatting and drinking of tea - I was not included in the conversation, but instead sat patiently in a chair and watched children play and chickens (and one sad goose) peck at some dropped horse feed. I drank my tea while Ahmed and the stable guy chatted (in Arabic), and the horses were being fed and saddled. Either Ahmed did not call ahead, or he did and they just didn't get around to getting the horses ready until long after we got there - either way this is referred to as "Egyptian Time."

Eventually we were able to get up on the horses and ride them around the yard, but it wasn't until after several rounds wherein we stopped between each round, and Ahmed had more long conversation with the stable guy, (Egyptian time!) that we were actually able to get started on the ride. The stable guy's brother joined us for the ride. We began by going down a lot of residential streets filled with people walking, talking and lounging, children playing, there were dogs and cats, donkey carts, goats, camels, other horses and cars all sharing the road. Lulu was quite patient with me and manuvered deftly through the crowd, ignoring all sudden jarring sounds, of which there is no shortage here. Occasionally she would trot, which, initially, was a bit of a shock to me as it made me bounce and feel unstable in the saddle. Eventually I began to relax and have fun.

Then there came the open desert - to the right were the great pyramids of Giza - I was, of course, awestruck. Not that I haven't seen them at this point, they're pretty hard to miss - but I hadn't been this close - and I was seeing them from the desert without any buildings to distract the view - massive structures that can only be experienced in person - the post cards don't do them justice! Once on the desert the men began to run their horses, and Lulu, who hadn't been out in awhile, stopped being careful with me, and took off at a full run ... let me just say - it's a frightening, heart stopping experience! I was struggling to keep my saddle, but after a couple of instances where I swayed too far to the left, and then too far to the right I made her stop - at which point I had to fight to keep from flying over her head. The men just laughed at me. We stopped on top of a large sand dune and stood in the strong winds, looking down on Cairo and the pyramids. Behind us lay the desert, vast, grand, desolate & beautiful.

Eventually we got back on our horses and continued. I let Lulu trot, and occasionally run. At one point we had to jump over a gate, to get closer to the pyramids - yes! I was freaked out! but Lulu did it, and I successfully stifled my scream. We ran some more, then began to turn back. Then the men headed straight toward a big ditch - I thought for certain they were going to have the horses jump over it, and I felt my head go light as I frantically wondered how I was going to get out of having to do it - jumping the gate had been bad enough, but I was sore from being in the saddle, and at this point had developed a healthy fear of falling - I called out at this - "no! tell me we're not going to do that!" - they turned around and grinned at me, my stomach dropped as the ditch loomed, and then suddenly they turned left, following the ditch down the hill where it ended, and then going back up to jump the gate again - a welcome manuver after the thought of jumping the ditch!

Back at the "ranch" I decided to play the Tough Guy, and tried to get off Lulu by myself. I did well, put my weight on my right foot in the stirrup, brought my left leg up and over Lulu's tush, then let it drop down to the ground. But the ground was further away than I thought, and my leg kept dropping, then I landed. Involutarialy my leg staggered, but too far back, and my right foot was still in the stirrup - did I mention that there were about 12 men standing around at this point in time? - things slowed down a bit, and I realized I was going to fall, so I just let it happen. I landed on my back, my right leg still in the stirrup (good thing my legs are long!), and then just lay there on my back, in the sand, foot up in the stirrup, Lulu looking down at me, laughing. I could see the stable guy's brother looking at me, so I raised my arm up and said, "help me up!" which he did, and someone else grabbed me from behind and I was up - unhurt, except for my ego! But truly grateful that I didn't land in a pile of horse poop!

I got home, dirty, tired and sore. The shower was my first priority, and I happily washed the desert sand from all sorts of crazy places. Once out of the shower I was shocked to see my left leg, at the knee on the inside, and on the calf, where the skin had been rubbed raw from my jeans where it had lay against the saddle, and the right leg, on the calf there is a bruise about 5 inches long and two inches wide. It reminds me of when I ride my bicycle and I always somehow manage to get grease from the derailer in just the same spot!

Saddle sore, raw skin, bruises and invading desert sand aside, I am looking forward to my next horse ride in the desert. Perhaps Lulu and I will reunite, and next time I will let her run because it was truly an exciting experience. But next time, I will definitley ask for help dismounting!