Its not every day you get trampled on by a horse..
Trip Start
Aug 21, 2008
1
17
59
Trip End
Ongoing
Masaya,
Nicaragua
Monday, September 29, 2008
After saying goodbye to Meridyth early morning I moved down the road into MonteXarlo hotel where I met up with three fellow Ometepe ferry travellers (Josh, Kate and Nicole) who were all on a mini-vacation before returning to their tropical forest conservation projects in MonteVerde, Costa Rica - nice to hear some people are doing something positive in the world whilst the financial walls fall around the greedy and selfish...(I include myself in that statement)..
Turns out, that I had stumbled accross the first day of the beginning of Party Season in Masaya...a whole three month affair!
Oi!...watch you looking at?
. Still not quite sure what anyone and how anyone wants to party for 3 months (the last 6 days have been sufficient for me TYVM) but as an ambassador for my great countries thought I should share in the festivities...The town´s shops shut down whilst PA systems and gazibos we erected in many of the streets..and I mean MANY. Apparently ´Hipica´ is a day where people from all over the country descend on Masaya on horeseback creating a real cowboy atmosphere (without the guns thankfully) and parade through the streets. Later that evening (and a few tonas later) the PA systems kicked in and the Nica equivalent of the Wu-Tan-Clan came onto stage in a cloud of smoke and fireworks. The only downside to the night was when Nicole had her camera lifted along with all her pix of the last couple of weeks.
After removing ourselves from the local craziness for an hour to console her (she was gutted), we got back on the proverbial horse and continued partying with the rest of the locals into the small hours..
The next day I expected the wehole town to be in bed but everyone had must have been on the ´Red Bull´ (no pun intended - continue reading) as by 1pm the locals were drinking and partying again...Again without knowing, we stumbled upon a the traditional ´running of the Bull´ where a young bull was released into the MAsayan streets for the people to intimidate, scare and generally bull-ly (ironically) the poor creature. I wasn´t buying into the vaguely guised torture but rattled a few shots for memory.
Everyone hears of stupid tourists getting killed at such events (turned out CNN actually showed a local getting killed that night) and I lived up to the stereotype by getting too close to the bull who obviously couldn´t tell I was on his side.
Aye Carumba!
. Staring down a bull from 5 metres away is not a recommended experience and one I don´t intend to repeat. Bulls move quickly (up to 30 miles an hour apparently) and thus attempted to get to higher ground out of harms way. My split-second decision to cross paths with a hosrse-backed cowboy were wrong (I assumed the horse would stop - it didn´t) and I bounced of the horseand skidded down the road on my side. The locals helped my up and for some strange reason I Was treated like a rock-star with genuine cheers of bravado for bleeding profusely. I had taken several layers of skin off both palms, elbows and back but adrenaline was my saviour for the first 30 mins and waved back to the crown with a genuine smile on my face....Later on the pain set in and My over-imaginative mind had panicced visions of skin grafts..I Made my way to the nearest pharmacy for a quick once over and was given the AOK. The wounds are reasonably superficial and are still feel a little raw (Yes...I´m applying appropriate medication, Mum!) but I´m on the mend. I must be OK as I was ash- boarding down a volcano two days later!!
Just another story to tell the grandchildren....
