Horses and Fishing Boats
With the risk of boring you to tears about horses, all I will say is that its like falling in love, discovering these new animals, their personalities, and not least the lovely group of people I met at the stables. Mostly they tend to be giggling 12 year olds and cute 5 year olds, but in Nerja mature adults had discovered the same as me, and we had a marvelous time together, the more experienced always giving you the thumbs up when you managed to stay on the horse (three times I was nearly thrown off, once when a snake suddenly slithered on the path in front of Bella, then a cat and when Sissy wanted to kick her! But I hung on like a limpet) or got something right at last. I really miss them, horses and people.
Gill who owns the riding school is a wonder, she has competed for England on the national team in cross country racing, has been teaching for 20 years and always finds a place for an abused horse found far too often in Spain where the horses are treated as if it was still the middle ages. Pain is the ticket! But she is a horse whisperer…no Spanish riding is allowed on her territory.
We made treks in the hills under mimosa blossom and olive trees shedding their fruit like black bat droppings, the banks full of yellow flowers and little rivers chatting to themselves, while the sierras rose with snow still on their peaks and the sea twinkled blue far below.
Torre del Mar was the home of the fishing vessels we could see the lights of early in the morning dawn, busy little blue boats fishing. Later the nest were mended and stretched out to dry, like slithering snakes of bright colours in the harbour. Working Costa del Sol. The real Costa.
With the risk of boring you to tears about horses, all I will say is that its like falling in love, discovering these new animals, their personalities, and not least the lovely group of people I met at the stables. Mostly they tend to be giggling 12 year olds and cute 5 year olds, but in Nerja mature adults had discovered the same as me, and we had a marvelous time together, the more experienced always giving you the thumbs up when you managed to stay on the horse (three times I was nearly thrown off, once when a snake suddenly slithered on the path in front of Bella, then a cat and when Sissy wanted to kick her! But I hung on like a limpet) or got something right at last. I really miss them, horses and people.
Gill who owns the riding school is a wonder, she has competed for England on the national team in cross country racing, has been teaching for 20 years and always finds a place for an abused horse found far too often in Spain where the horses are treated as if it was still the middle ages. Pain is the ticket! But she is a horse whisperer…no Spanish riding is allowed on her territory.
We made treks in the hills under mimosa blossom and olive trees shedding their fruit like black bat droppings, the banks full of yellow flowers and little rivers chatting to themselves, while the sierras rose with snow still on their peaks and the sea twinkled blue far below.
Torre del Mar was the home of the fishing vessels we could see the lights of early in the morning dawn, busy little blue boats fishing. Later the nest were mended and stretched out to dry, like slithering snakes of bright colours in the harbour. Working Costa del Sol. The real Costa.