Bringing the Wow to Mao: Horseback Riding in the Campo

When a friend invites you and your amigas to an all-inclusive horseback riding trip in the campo (countryside)...well you pretty much HAVE to say yes. So on Sunday morning, Christina, Amy and I piled into Jean's (pronounced like John but with a much prettier soft J sound) little car and headed out to Mao, a small town located about an hour outside of Santiago. 

Of course no Dominican road trip would be complete without a Presidente pit stop. 

Beers in hand, sun shining, and radio jamming, we continued our cruise down the high way. 

So the back story here is that Jean's family owns several rice farms. In addition to their many work horses, they also have about 5 horses that they raise and train for show. We were going to get to ride the show horses.  However, there was a minor problem: none of us girls actually knew how to ride a horse.  I mean sure we'd all ridden a horse before. Who hasn't been on one of those "horseback riding adventures" where you a pay a company to saddle you up onto a tired old creature that knows the trail so well all you have to do is sit back and wiggle your butt cheeks every now and then to keep them from getting saddle sore? 
Well this was NOT that kind of horseback riding. 
This was legit. 

Jean and his trainer, Jeancarlos, gave us a brief run-down of the basics (pull the reins right to go right, left for left, back to stop),  then threw us up onto the horses and gave them a nice swat on the rump, sending us galloping off.
Ok, so they didn't actually give the horses a swat on the rump.  But the horses did gallop off. They had a mind of their own, those things. 
After the initial shock of trying to reign in a 600 pound galloping beast wore off, we were able to steer the horses into doing a couple laps around the training ring to get our bearings. Then it was time to take our beauties out on the town and test our new-found skills. 

Once on the road, Campanero (my horse) and I took the lead. Apparently Campanero was feeling fleet-footed, but that was fine by me, apparently I like going fast too :)

Isn't she darling?

After trotting through the streets and waving at all the locals (gringas on parade!),  we made our way out of town and down to the river. That's where the real adventure began. 

Now an immense amount of credit needs to be given to Jeancarlos here. It was his lot to ride Scrappy. Scrappy (our affectionate nickname, I'm unsure what he was actually called) was a dappled gray with, too put it mildly, a rambunctious nature.  In fact, I'm fairly certain the horse was trying to kill Jeancarlos on a number of separate occasions throughout the trip, as he would spontaneously break into wild bucking streaks in an attempt to throw off his rider.  Jeancarlos not only managed to ride and reign-in his ill-spirited mount, but, like a true Dominican, he did so one handed-- the other hand being occupied by an open bottle of rum. And the most remarkable part: never once while the horse was pulling his rodeo bronco stunts did Jeancarlos spill a single drop of rum. 

It's getting deep boys!

At one point, the saddle on Amy's horse fell off--- Amy fell off with it. 

But sliding off the saddle was child's play compared to the next leg of the journey. Eventually we came to a particularly muddy spot of the river that had to be crossed.  The ground on the bank appeared to be solid, but as soon as the horses stepped onto the area, they would sink nearly up to the top of their legs in mud. There was drier land just to the side of the mud pit, but unfortunately, this land was occupied by a number of stumpy thorn trees with low hanging branches. The panicky horses, trying to escape the sinking mud pit, would rear up and leap towards the drier ground (with alarming force, might I add), inevitably hurling us frightened riders into a net of needles.
Eventually we all managed to untangle ourselves, but not without a few good scratches along the way. But what´s an adventure without a few battle scars?

Salvache, our trusty side-kick!

Jean and Jeancarlos led the way down the river, sharing the bottle of rum between them, and discussing where would be an appropriate place to stop and play. 

And by play, I mean swim. Fully clothed of course, since none of us brought our bikinis. And what the heck, we were already wet and muddy anyways. 

We splished and splashed and sipped on warm wine and rum until the sun sank down to the tops of the trees. 

Then it was time to hop back on the horses and hustle back to town before night-fall to russel up some grub. 

Jean led us to a local outdoor grill right on the riverside and ordered up a feast. 

Truly Dominican style food with all the fixin's: grilled pork and barbecued chicken, piping hot tostones, and mofongo. 

What's mofongo you say? Well sir (or madam), you don't know what you are missing. Probably one of the most traditional Dominican dishes on the island (right up there with sanchocho and mangú), it consists of fried tostones that have been mashed up with garlic and formed into the lovely  "upside-down bowl" shape you see above. The inside of the bowl can be stuffed with any number of goodies, but this particularly naughty little fella was stuffed with chicharrones, crispy fried pork skin dripping with greasy goodness and lending a nice smoky flavor. Serve it all up with a side of chicken broth for dipping, and you´ve got one serious meal on your hands.

Covered in mud, still dripping wet, and looking like wild barefoot little Indian princesses,  we saddled up our mounts and trotted back home under the stars in a daze of food-induced happiness and the best kind of adventure-worn weariness. 
Mucho amor y gracias a Jean y Jeancarlos!