#Japan16 Arashiyama and the Cat Cafe

I had been planning an early start today, but, I suppose unsurprisingly, I overslept. In the shower I had the dilemma that epitomised my trip. I wanted to soak and relax, after all I was on holiday, but also there was an amazing place out there calling to me! I hurried to the station, and got a JR local train to Arashiyama. The day was overcast and gloomy. The problem with capsule hotels is that there is no daylight: You have no idea what the weather is doing outside, so it was only by chance that I had brought a raincoat!

From the station, I walked directly to Arashiyama monkey park. I had looked for Monkeys in Minoo in Osaka, up Mount Misen in Miyajima, and now this was my last chance to see some of Japan's famous snow monkeys!

I paid 550y admission and trekked up the mountain. It wasn't a tough climb, but as ever the footpaths left something to be desired, and I regretted taking my comfy slip on shoes instead of hiking boots. As I neared the top, I finally saw my first monkey, and there were half a dozen of them sitting in a tree! Their thick fluffy fur matched the bark almost exactly, and as they turned to watch me I saw their ugly pink faces. I was under strict instructions from the visitor centre not too stare, but I was enchanted!

Creepy red eyed monkey (I think it just had its eyes closed)

I arrived at the viewing platform just in time for a feed, where two park rangers sprinkled monkey nuts (of course) and about thirty or forty monkeys descended from the sakura trees, nonchalantly waving their pink backsides in the air as they scooped up nuts, peeled them, and stuffed them into their mouths. The view alone made the climb worth it. With a misty panorama of Kyoto, I again found myself resenting my visit to the sky tower, the atmosphere here was much better. I got some great photos of monkeys perched on the rope fence with Kyoto spread out between the hills behind them. Some of the monkeys got very close and I even saw a couple of babies!

I didn't linger too long however, as the weather had finally broken and it had began to rain. I was worried for my backpack, and skidded back down the mountain in my inappropriate shoes.

Just as in Hakone, the rain did lend a fantastic atmosphere to the place. I got some romantic photos of river boats waiting under dripping Sakura trees, a wedding couple sat on a bench overlooking the misty river, and even a woman painted up as a Meika - trainee geisha sheltering under a decorative umbrella. I actually thought she looked quite unattractive, but I suppose all that face paint is a difficult look to pull off.

The bride mourning her soggy wedding dress

The boat trips were not selling well that day

Apprentice Geisha

I wandered into a Unesco World Heritage site temple gardens, searching for Arashiyama's famous bamboo grove. The gardens were beautiful, Zen gardens like those at the silver temple and honen-in yesterday, with carefully raked stones and mossy mounds topped with crooked Japanese fir trees. There was also a feast of Sakura blossom here, and the dim lighting and drizzling rain really made the colours contrast.

Zen garden in the rain

Finally I entered the bamboo grove. I had read about a majesty and grandeur here which couldn't be conveyed in photos, and though I did enjoy it and the bamboo was spectacular, and absolutely enormous, it was too crowded to really feel spiritual, besides I was concerned about all my essentials in my (now thoroughly soggy) backpack. I was underwhelmed. I hope that at least some of my photos do it some justice. A lot of them came out blurry because it was so dark I had to use a slow shutter speed, but so damp and crowded I didn't have the liberty to take my time. I would still recommend a visit though - it was in anticipation of these crowds that I had tried to get up early!

Arashiyama Bamboo Garden

I decided that under such conditions I was unlikely to get much pleasure from the 'romance car' scenic railway, river cruise or water gardens which I had planned, and so left Arashiyama shortly after midday.

I returned to the hostel and finally had a really long hot shower, before returning to the under-cover shopping centre for a leisurely wander. I purchased the most adorable donut/doughnut that looked like a little cat, before visiting one of Japan's famous cat cafés. This was a Bengal cat cafe (the first in the world apparently, and I don't doubt that!) and the cafe involved no food (hence my doughnut), but guests were invited into a small jungle themed room in small groups, whereupon we paid 600y each to play with these tiny leopard patterned cats for half an hour.

Cat donut, followed by cat cafe! I definitely
felt I needed some cheering up after my rainy morning!

Sat on the floor, three young Japanese couples cooed over tiny cats, most of whom had fallen asleep in their attendee's lap. I was given a small cat who let me stroke it for maybe 40 seconds before scurrying off, much to the amusement of the nearest couple. There seemed to be a big (relatively speaking) daddy cat who watched over proceedings from a perch up in the man-made tree (a series of real branches stapled together and decorated with fake ivy) and I took a few photos of him before a couple took pity on me and invited me to join them stroking the tiny feline curled up in the girls lap. It was so soft and quite adorable, its eyes rolled back in its head as she rubbed its chin, and I could see how this could be therapeutic. When the couples' time ran out, they passed me the sleeping creature, who found an uncomfortable looking position in my lap. They took a photo of me on mh phone, they were very kind, but they had been gone about two minutes when the cat woke up and ran away from me.

I realised cat cafés were a lost cause for me. That kitten was like it'd been drugged. If I'd managed to repel him, I had no chance of finding another, so I left a little before my time was up. It was still a good and interesting experience though, I was glad I tried it!

I seemed out my favourite vegetarian cafe for the third day in a row, but to my dismay it had closed down! The tables had been pushed up against the windows and the board which had previously said 'open' or 'closed' outside had now gone altogether. I went to Starbucks and spent the previous day's voucher on a scone and a hot chocolate, toying with the idea of visiting one last temple at dusk as I knew it was illuminated well and looked out over the city. Ultimately though I was too intimidated by the maze of streets (unable to find my way to the appropriate bus stop), and decided to continue shopping and get an early night.
Lush, one of my favourite shops back home, had a cool store on the main outdoor shopping street (a fancy street, that plays elevator music to you as you walk along) so I visited there. I was caught off guard by a very friendly shop assistant with near-perfect English, and when she asked what I was looking for, I said a massage bar, as it was the first thing to come into my head. She showed me the display, and out of awkwardness, I asked what was her favourite product. She seemed quite taken aback by my question and showed me a massage bar called 'shades of earl grey'. I was a little fazed by the connotations but she was so sweet, asking me about how hot it was in Scotland (she was the second Japanese person I had met this trip who thought Scotland was a hot country!) so I bought it. She was hugely complimented that I had chosen based on her advice and thanked me many, many times. It was cuter than the cat cafe and the doughnut put together!

Next I stopped off at the Kyoto Pokemon Center (this one IN Kyoto as opposed to Osaka!) where I sent one of my friends back home about a dozen photos of all the different variations of pikachu (and then, by request, charmander) and bought some special edition Kyoto Pikach stickers for my car. I was on a spending spree it seemed, but at least managed not to buy anything from the Kyoto Disney Store!
It was approaching 8pm when I returned to the hotel again. I spent just under an hour packing and repacking my backpack to make all my new purchases and the booklets and tickets I had picked up along the way fit. After three days of having the luxury of two backpacks, I was now struggling to downsize. Luckily I had lost a hoodie along the way (I think I left it in Osaka) so I managed to pack down to just my Pokemon Store
shopping bag and my backpack, hoping that would be little enough to sneak onto the plane.

I dressed in my complimentary prison-uniform nightshirt for the last time, and fell asleep in my capsule by half past nine.

#Japan16 Okunoshima

Easter Monday. After checking out of my hotel, I walked up to Fukuyama castle (less than 500m away) and took some photos of the castle. It was more like Wakayama castle than Hiroshima, although all three were pretty similar, and I didn't linger there long.

I had plans to go to the Belgian waffle shop in the station for breakfast, but it was closed, so I went to 'Mister Donut' and bought some snacks there instead. They were much lighter in texture than something you might bjy from Gregs, and therefore did almost nothing to quell my hunger. I then gook a train to Mihara, changing onto the coastal line for Tadanoumi.

One of the small Hiroshima prefecture coastal towns

It was another scenic journey, similar to that through Shikou in terms of rural villages and hills, but with additional bursts of seaside. I was impressed to see stretches of tropically sandy beaches under tall palm trees. I seemed to be a long way south of Tokyo!

The beautiful Sinto Sea

The queue for the rabbit island ferry was immense, and I didn't make it onto the first boat, but luckily there was a second a few minutes later, which wasn't mentioned in my timetable for whatever reason.

I had barely got off the ferry port when I saw my first rabbit. The island was swarming in tame rabbits, and the rabbits were swarming with children. I was gratified to see that 90% of the tourists were Japanese, but obviously the secret had got out further afield, as there were a number of Americans too.

The bunnies were very cute. They weren't shy either, and let me get really close to take lots and lots of photos.

  

I hired a bike from a hotel, the only inhabited building on the island, and cycled around, stopping every hundred or so metres for a photo of the rabbits, the scenery, or... the poison gas storage tanks.

Okunoshiwa Island had been taken off the maps for a time last century, as the Japanese military used it to manufacture thousands of tons of mustard (blistering) gas and tear gas. When America occupied Japan, the gas was disposed of, either through being burnt or dumped in containers in the pacific(...) some sources I have read say that this was to hide the extent of it from the allies. Others say that it was done under American orders.

The presence of the bunnies on the islands also has two possible reasons. Rabbits were used to test the gas manufactured on the island (It's upsetting to think about, but what isn:t upsetting about chemical weapons?) They may have been released after the factory closed. Alternatively, it has been suggested that all the experiment rabbits were killed, but some schoolchildren released their pet rabbits onto the island after it had been abandoned. Either way, these founding rabbits did what rabbits do best, and now the island is covered with cute rabbits of every colour, size and coat. I didn't see any lop-eared rabbits though.

Most of the tourists had brought whole lettuces to give to the
rabbits. I saw one woman with a lettuce the size of a basketball.

As I wandered around feeding and stroking the rabbits, I began to notice that a lot of them had eye infections. Some of them had a blind white eye. Some of them had uncomfortable looking weeping eyes, and some of them had eyes too gross for me to really look at. As soon as I noticed this, I avoided touching the rabbits and washed my hands. I noticed that there were a lot of no-go areas on the island with large metal cylinders behind fencing, but the rabbits had hopped through or dug under it. Maybe they were experiencing disease as any creature in the wild might, or maybe they were feeling some ill-effects from their sinister home.

I could also smell something alien and unpleasant in the air. As I climbed higher up the mountain, occassionally being approached by rabbits as I walked (they had learnt humans were not to be feared, and provided lettuce), I began to feel that this island was a bit creepy. Everywhere there was the decaying ruins of gun batteries and poison storage tanks, I began to notice more and more the disfigured rabbits, and that smell was making my imagination run wild. What if I was smelling traces of the gas?

As I neared the top of the island on foot, I began to feel the rare sensation of complete physical exhaustion. I couldn't walｋ as fast as I was trying to, it was all I could do to keep moving with my backpack on. I wasn't tired or hungry, just weary. I knew this fatigue was coming from having travelled and experienced so much in so few days, but I was determined to last at least until the end of the trip!

Sakura

I reached the top of the island for 365 beautiful views of the Sinto Sea. It was bright blue in the afternoon sunlight. I took it all in for a while before returning to my bike, planning to return it and get the next ferry off the island, despite originally planning to stay longer.

As I cycled the last stretch towards the hotel, I saw a number of bikes parked outside a tunnel, and pulled up to take a look. Through the tunnel was the burnt out shell of the poison gas factory. It was utterly haunting.

Here on the coast, the smell was less strong. I returned my bike and couldn:t resist going for a paddle in te beautiful blue water, trying not to think of all the containers full of toxic chemicals which had been dumped somewhere out there at sea!

You can see why I was tempted by the water!

I didn't paddle for long though because despite the beautiful weather, it was still March, and the water was turning my feet numb with cold! I got on the ferry back to Tadanoumi, the train back to Mihara, and then eventually rode another Shinkhansen to Hiroshima, where I would be spending the night.

It was raining lightly when I got to Hiroshima. The station waｓ packed full of baseball fans - I:d just missed a game at the Hiroshima stadium　Not that I'd　have　gone　if　I　could　-　I　don:t　know　the　first　thing　about　baseball　in　my　own　language,　let　alone　Japanese!)

I took　a　local　train　and　then,　when　I　stared　at　my　map　for　too　long,　a　local　lady　kindly　guided　me　to　a streetcar (tram)　to get to　where I was staying. I found it quite poignant to ride a streetcar, as I could recall from a documentary I had seen about the atomic bomb, that a survivor interviewed had been driving a streetcar for the first time when the bomb exploded. I recalled that she said her first concern was that she'd done something wrong.

It was an easy walk from my stop to the World Friendship Centre (WFC from hereon), and I was greeted by a German man who looked so perplexed that I momentarily wondered if (despite the glowing signs outside, and having exchanged emails with his wife earlier that afternoon) I:d got the wrong place. They soon warmed up though, and after I had put my bags in my room (a whole room to myself again, but this time with Tatami mats and Futon, and a shared bathroom with the man across the hall) we all went out to dinner together at a tiny local eatery run by two brothers.

One of the brothers spoke pretty good english, and both were very smiley to the only guests in their restaurant, and I drank some Japanese spirit (not Sake, but I don't think it was Whisky either. All I know is that it came from a sweet potato) with warm water, then ate a large amount of vegetables, some cold, and some battered as tempura.

Yummy Tempura (holiday calories don't count)

We chatted happily about travel, life in Japan, touching only briefly on Hiroshima's history, nuclear weapons and prospects for world peace. I enjoyed the meal and got an early night on my mat.

Horse trekking in Croatia: April 19th - 26th 2015

In April 2015, I realised a dream which I'd held for something like ten years, to go on a riding holiday. I booked the holiday about two months beforehand, and in the intervening period, trained intensively, having weekly riding tuition in order to acclimatise myself for a week in the saddle. I love horse riding and it was wonderful to have the excuse to invest some real time in it. I deliberately never counted up the cost of all this holiday preparation, but it was certainly not cheap! I soon noticed myself becoming more comfortable on horseback, if not more accomplished. I had ridden quite regularly in my teenage years, so I knew the principles of it, it was just a matter of regaining my confidence and the appropriate type of fitness. With the latter in mind, I also took up middle distance running with a group of my colleagues in Swindon. But my new-found running career is another story for another blog.

Max, the horse I obsessed over and spent every weekend with during my teenage years

I booked the trip with Unicorn Trails, the very company I had first spied in my very first 'Pony' magazine, all those years ago. They advertised a horse riding holiday in Croatia, which sounded like a good challenge, without being too intense in terms of climate or riding. My riding ability is generally walk trot and canter, gallop at a push, but jumping is not my forte. This sounded like something I could handle, and Croatia sounded exotic enough – I only knew one person who had been there, and she said it was beautiful.

 A week before I left for Croatia, my father insisted that I bought some cycling shorts. I packed them 'just in case', in the way you would pack blister patches when going hiking in comfortable old boots. I had a new pair of jodhpurs, a new riding helmet, and even a head camera, to capture the experience when I had no hands free to take photos! With my body protector (at my Mum's insistance) also in tow, I had a suitcase nearly as big as me!

 The trip soon ran into difficulty though when I arrived early on Sunday morning to Stansted airport. I was not used to flying, and certainly not to having to wait to check my luggage in. The queue was long, and by the time I reached the end, the gate had closed for luggage. Even now, nearly a year later, just recounting the story brings back the sensation of fear and panic that I felt! I tried begging the airline. I tried sneaking my immense suitcase through hand luggage. I tried begging someone else from the airline. I tried taking it to the postal service and dashing through security with my hand luggage, but as I arrived at the gate, I was refused board. Eventually, I watched my plane to Pula take off without me. There were no more flights that day, so for a mere £110 (that's five horse riding lessons) I booked onto an afternoon flight to Trieste, Italy, and was collected from the airport and driven through Italy, Slovenia, and finally into Croatia and down into the Istrain peninsula late that night.

 The next day we rose early for breakfast and I was introduced to the other riders, two French girls, friends called Josefine and Anna, a Dutch girl, Joyce, and one Croatian who was training to lead the rides herself, Martina. Of course, Petar was also Croatian, and he would be leading all of our rides. All of the guests were in our late teens to mid twenties, and obviously mad about horses. None of the girls were self important or boastful, as I was strangely used to from horsewomen, which came as a pleasant surprise. The lodging was a bed and breakfast type arrangement, quite rustic. As I was later to discover we were very rural, which would be both charming and discomforting!

My cute little room. Luckily it was the low season, so I didn't have to share!

We were trekking to different locations for the next two nights, so we were told to pack whatever we needed for that period. The other girls presented their suitcases. I emerged with a backpack so small I could wear it whilst riding. After some indecision, I opted to wear my padded cycling shorts under my Jodhpurs. (Prevention is better than cure right?) After a delicious continental breakfast, we jumped into the land rover (one of those really old boxy ones, the kind that means business!) and drove to the nearby farm where the others had ridden to the previous night.

The sun was beating down as I finally met my horse for the week, Junior. I was determined he and I would be best pals. I noticed gleefully that he was the most striking of all the guest horses, and he had little plaits in his mane. I was only slightly phased by the fact had been kept in a stable over night to prevent him from fighting with the other horses, and whilst the other horses lazily stood still to be groomed and saddled up for the days ride, Junior pranced and fidgetted and nearly crushed me against the wall. I had the beautiful, lively, problem horse! This is what happens when you are the last to arrive.

Junior and I on the first day - all set to become best bud's.

I have a soft spot for naughty horses, so I didn't mind, but as I struggled to get him to stand still long enough for me to mount him, I wasn't really thinking of the long week ahead. Junior and I were ordered to the back of the ride where we could do the least damage, behind Joyce and her mount. Junior was very fidgetty, and as the hours passed, my enjoyment of the beautiful sunshine, idylic scenery, and experience of finally spending the quality time with horses was marred by the need to constantly be on my guard, pulling Junior back when he got too close to the horse in front, searching for anything in the fields or hedgerows which might spook him, and forcing us into isolation as we were distanced from the rest of the group.

 At lunch time we dismounted in a beautiful pebbled bay, riding our horses through the translucent blue water before tethering Junior (and releasing the others) in a beautiful green clearing sprinkled with yellow flowers. Bread, cheese, tuna and ham was provided and we lounged happily in the sunshine, occasionally leaping up to secure junior as he escaped from his tether, or to shoo away another horse if any got within kicking distance.

Our beautiful picnic spot

Josefine's horse, or possibly Martina's, enjoying lunch

 After lunch we ascended and continued trekking through the countryside. From my previous travel experiences, I was reminded of rural France. The countryside was little populated, and much of it wasn't even farmed. The scenery was not dramatic, but I much preferred it to the arid scrub of southern Spain or Portugal, and it was a lot easier (especially considering our mode of transport!) than Andorra.

 It was a long, hot afternoon. I continued to battle my pony, and it all came to a head when we came out of a woodland into a grassy meadow. The group ascended into a fast canter, which became a gallop (I always find galloping faster than expected!) I attempted to brake fruitlessly as I watched Junior gaining on Joyce's horse before us. Joyce got too close to Anna, whose horse kicked out mid-stride. Joyce half-halted suddenly, and Junior and I were left with nowhere to go. He veered left and I careened out of the saddle, thudding into the long grass beside him. Commotion ensued as I shamefacedly grappled to my feet and caught my horse, vaulting deftly back into the saddle and trying to pretend nothing had happened. I protested that I was fine, and the ride continued. My cheeks were crimson. That would not have happened to a better rider.

finally getting some distance between us (see Junior's ears) and Joyce (pictured).
Apparently I was even feeling confident enough to hold a camera!

As we approached a small farm, we heard a whinnying coming from just out of sight. Junior responded heartily, the rest of the herd walking along in alert silence. Into sight came a black stallion, slightly larger than any of our horses. Petar immediately ordered us to dismount, and we held our horses as the stallion approached. He was somewhat aggressive to the other horses (we had a couple of mares in the group) but Petar managed to catch him, and left Martina to hold him whilst he ran for the owner. The stallion reared violently, a few times he nearly kicked Martina in the face, and some of our herd were very unsettled. Many minutes passed before Petar returned with an older man, speaking angrily. The man refused to apologise, insistent that stallions are always frisky and spirited. Petar grumbled that it hadn't been trained sufficiently!

It turned out that the house on the farm was where we would be staying for the night - the horse owner lived in another house nearby - so we unsaddled, and took out horses out to some paddocks about a kilometre away. Junior, of course, had a paddock to himself.

The house was big, and decorated enthusiastically with antlers and skulls of all sorts of local wildlife. In the yard, we played fetch with a rambunctious border collie until tea was ready, which was served with copious home made wine and copious home made schnappes, of several varieties. I enthusiastically embraced the "culture" and by the time Petar joined us from checking on the horses back at his farm, I had been labelled the problem rider, for "falling of her horse, being an awkward vegetarian, and getting drunk all on her first day!"

our new friend in action

I shared a room with Joyce that night, and she told me about her boyfriend back in Holland. She knew how I had been struggling that day, but she was sympathetic. We decided to be friends.

The next morning we groomed our horses 'Indian style' with fistfuls of hay, and I mounted up, resolved that today I would be a better rider. The riding was much more scenic, and a few times the trails were so steep we were forced to dismount. I noticed that I wasn't the only one having obedience issues, which made me feel better, and I felt comfortable walking alongside Junior.

Joyce waiting to descend one of the steeper trails. 

We had lunch by a scenic river with a small waterfall providing a soundtrack, with all of the horses tethered. Leaving the other girls chatting whilst Martina and Petar dosed in the sun, I wandered over to check up on Junior. I found Joyce's horse wandering loose, and quickly secured him, discreetly telling Joyce to double check her release knots. I was starting to feel less inferior. At least not laughably so, and that brightened my mood as I petted an indifferent Junior.

 

Another scenic lunch                                                    second day's trekking

 Thw rest of the day passed uneventfully, apart from passing some donkeys which nobody except Junior needed to make a big deal about, whinnying his little heart out as they brayed in reply!

You can see I'm getting more confident in the saddle as the frequency of photos increases!

 We stayed the night at an Agrotourism hotel, Agritourizm Dol, which is a family-run hotel on a working farm. We sampled more home brewed wine (direct from the vat!) and had a delicious pasta dinner. This was my favourite of all the places we stayed.

In the morning we had a hearty breakfast (although all the food had a certain meatiness to it, even if it was apparently vegetarian!) the van full of suitcases except mine drove off, and as we wandered down the village to reunite with our horses. Joyce and I could hear a waterfall, and snuck away from the group to check it out. We discovered a magical place, a sort of secret garden with a big waterfall into a perfectly blue pool, surrounded by lush green foliage. A goose and a goat were having a conversation, so I had to take a quick photo, and then we sprinted back to the group before we were missed.

The Goat and the Goose... They should name a pub after them.

Today was the hottest day, and would be the most tiring yet. We quickly found ourselves climbing a steep trail into the hills, leaning forwards in the saddle to ease the pressure on our poor horses. The scenery was again impressive, rolling hills and valleys speckled with vineyards and small farms. It occurred to me how lucky I was to have chosen spring to visit. It is a beautiful time of year, in Croatia as it is in the UK, but hotter. I imagine that a few months later the region would have had a much more arid feel.

Joyce contorting herself to stop her horse from nibbling the blossom!

One of the many times I felt bad for the horses. In fairness, they do have twice as many legs as us...

We stopped for lunch in the village of Beram, and had lunch at a tavern, making a change from the bread and cheese. Climbing the hill from where we left the horses to where we'd have lunch, I felt real physical exhaustion in my legs. I couldn't remember the last time I'd worked them this hard - it was a good feeling! When we returned to the horses, Martina's mare was playing up, but Junior was strangely well behaved - perhaps he was as tired as me!We had barely left the village however when my complacent delusions were shattered. The group skirted around the edge of a a fallow field, in the corner of which was a large tree, fairly low, and still dormant from the winter. There was some sort of horse-rider interface error, as Junior had the bright idea to cut around the tree. For him, dipping his head slightly, this was no issue. For me, at branch height, it was a different matter. I frantically tried to control my horse, but his mind was set, and so I plowed into the tree, getting lodged amongst its branches. The rest of the group heard my panicked bleating and turned around to laugh whilst I dislodged myself. My ego had taken another beating!

That night, the horses stayed at another friend's American Style ranch (It seemed everyone in Istria knows each other and gives favours!), complete with appaloosa and paint horses, and more questionable alcoholic beverages, and we had a hearty dinner of countless courses, in another room which was more antler than wall! More schnappes was handed out, and the mood was good. The holiday was turning out nothing like I had imagined, but it was good in its own way.

    

The next day, when I woke up, there was a small black scorpion in my bathroom. I had heard that Josefine and Anna had a similar visitor on their first night, but couldn't remember what to do. Out of fear, I crushed it with my riding boot. It was surprisingly easy! It was only afterwards I realised I'd never seen such an exotic creature outside of captivity before... and I had crushed it to death! I put my boot back on, and we returned to the ranch for our last full day of riding. We meandered through more beautiful countyside as the weather cooled. As I changed helmet, this was the first day I was able to (try to) use my headcam. As a result, there are almost no photographs. I couldn't tell when it was filming and when it wasn't, so I kept pressing the button in the vain hope that at least something would be recorded. However, the angle of my helmet/head and all my bouncing around meant that a lot of the footage is silhouetted, as the camera set its exposure to the level of the (white) sky! Here's some of the high quality imagery accidentally captured in the "still" mode I didn't know the camera had:

Junior impressively obeying my instruction
to hold back while the others cantered, so
we could have fun catching up!

There are a lot like this.

A typical istrian village. Seconds after I stopped
 fiddling with my head to take this photo, a dog
 started barking and all the horses spooked!

Apparently the red soil is good for truffles. We
ate a lot of truffles in Croatia!

Then came the low point of my holiday. After another steep descent, we trotted through an overgrown woodland trail. As the group plunged on, one of the brambles Joyce had been holding back came back at the wrong time, entangling itself in my clothing and skin. I tried to pull Junior back but once again failed. I heard my T-shirt shred, and began to feel myself being pulled out of the saddle. I called out to stop and Joyce called forward so that the ride halted, but before they did, I ripped the branch out of me. My t-shirt was torn badly, and I was bleeding in several places. The others looked back quizzically but the ride continued. Unlike my fall I had little sympathy - they must have thought I really was just a useless rider. This was an awful realisation, and I started to sniffle a bit from the embarrassment but also the pain. I was properly bleeding, and more than a little achey from the week on horseback. Joyce noticed and that embarrassed me even further. I trudged on and when we stopped for lunch I walked Junior around to graze, rather than tethering him like the others. I felt too humiliated to spend time with the humans.

On the final day, the weather turned sour. We went for a morning walk in the semi-rain around the nearby town in the morning, desperately trying to steady our horses when the church bells tolled, and hooves started skidding on the slippery wet cobbles. A large part of me genuinely thought I was going to die as Junior skittered and slid, the stones below looking far less inviting than the grassy meadow from before! However we regained our composure, and I felt very proud as we trotted back into the countryside. Here I was able to use my new "technique" of holding Junior back until the others were almost out of sight, and I was rewarded with the best gallop of my life. I finally felt fully confident as he surged forward towards the others, and I slowed him down with good time. All this time I had been so lonely at the back of the ride, now I was absolutely glowing and more than a little smug. It was only a short ride, and then we went into Rovinj for the afternoon with Martina's two dogs. Joyce, Anna, Josefine and I wandered around the streets taking photos and buying souvenirs. There were lots of cute little markets and endless art stalls. We also got some delicious icecream. Here are some of the photos.

 
 

That night, when I went to bed, I looked up and saw a giant black millipede-like creature above my bed. It was about the size of my hand and directly over my head. I darted out from under it and when I looked up it was gone. Had I imagined it? I kept the light on, and for the rest of the night I slept fitfully. Scorpions.. giant insects... despite being far from well rested, I was glad to slide out of bed when the morning finally came.

I had an extra day after the others left, where I just helped around the farm. Martina and I brought some of the horses into the coral to prepare for the following week's ride, We sunbathed and played with some baby donkeys, I even got to help train a couple of the horses. Petar is adamant that he will be riding his horse "The great Pascal" in the Japan 2020 Olympics!

That was a long saga of a blog, thanks for sticking with it. Hopefully this is as long as they're going to get!

Himself, looking nonchalant on our first day of riding. I do wish I could do it again, just so I could make a better job of it this time!