July 6th: horsing around, finally

Horsing around
We finally get to ride horses, yee haa!We start the tour on time with another company, and ride together with a group of three Brazilians, two sisters of about my age, and the daughter of one of them. We ride out through the back of the town and into the surrounding canyon country. Lush trees quickly make place for sand, sandy rocks and nothing but a sun so hot it could bleach my teeth in hours. Welcome once again in valle de la muerte.

Blandine's horse is funny, all it wants to do is follow another horse of the group at all times. No amount of commanding, asking friendly, or even giving it a heel in the side have any effect: the horse is the boss. And I'm loving it, because my horse listens to me. Who's large and in charge, baby?? Ha!
I am a bit worried about having to run my horse as it's really a bit too small, just like the stirrups my sneakers try to get in. Ian Fleming's quote comes to mind: "A horse is dangerous at both ends and uncomfortable in the middle". Luckily the guide confirms that we're just walking the horses.

One Brazilian really wants to gallup, so the guide tells her to distantiate herself from the group a bit. And that works, the first 20 minutes. As she gets her horse into gallup, Blandine and my horse run after it, but luckily I can stop mine rather quickly, so I have more time to laugh at Blandine, who struggles just a bit more than me.

After about 3 hours, our behinds have been bumped around enough and we decide to quickly read our email in an internet cafe before we have lunch. We say goodbye to the Brazilians and head for the main street. The Brazilians had planned to ride horses then see their team play Uruguay during lunch, but the Dutch wouldn't have it that way, so they're forced to watch the Holland - Uruguay match in their hostal.

Dutch blabber

We're sat in the internet cafe with two loud, giggly teenage Dutch girls who think nobody else speaks Dutch here.
Girl A takes off her headset, turns around on her swivel chair and says laughingly: "Hey Femke, no need to Skype with me, I'm on the other side of the internet cafe."
Femke, through her braces: "I'm not trying to chat with you, but with dad."
Girl A: "Tell dad to log in with his own Skype account, rather than mine."
Femke: "Ha ha ha, this is really funny, I wanted to reach dad and instead I'm chatting with you."

Grrr, I could smack these two meatball heads together I would, but the prospect of possible going to a Chilean prison doesn't allure me. Luckily the Dutch girls leave shortly after that. We spend another hour  updating our blog before our stomachs indicate that they need food.

Going Dutch for lunch
We pay and walk down the main street looking for a decent spot to have lunch, one that shows the Holland - Uruguay game that about to begin. We settle for a small bar-like place with great food and a big screen TV. As the game starts, I notice there are two girls sat a bit further, with their backs to us, one dressed in orange, and speaking Dutch to eachother. They know absolutely nothing about football, they just care about the looks of the 22 men on the field. As one turns her head around, looking for the waitress, my blood curdles: it's the Dutch girls from the internet cafe. For this alone I want Holland to lose. Beer in hand I see the orange legion make chopped liver out of Uruguay. Grrrr again.

Black pizza
In the evening we eat  pizza from a Turkish shop around the cornner from our hostal. While I'm waiting for it to get ready, the whole town goes black. Power cut. That's the second one since we're in Latin America. No worries, the people are used to it here, and gives u candles so we can see whate we eat for dinner. We luckily already have prepared our bags, for tomorrow's early start. We'll leave early for Calama, from where we'll fly to Santiago. Within a half hour (unlike the 5 hours needed in Bolivia) the power is restored and we set our Ipod alarl. As the pizza hits my stomach, I feel my eyelids losing their fight against gravity.