Lost on a Horse in Armenia

When my sister Casey’s horse took off full-speed through a river, up a narrow road, and then completely out of view (leaving her phoneless, helmet-less, and blasting through a foreign Armenian village unable to speak the local language), I had only one thought:  If she dies, my parents will kill me.  

Do you know what the English halt command “Woahhhh” signifies to an Armenian horse?

Speed up.

And you can probably guess what my sister, an experienced equestrian in the States, shouted at the horse as it bolted through the village toward the mountains. 

Linguistic barriers can be really entertaining until your life is on the line. 

After sprinting a lap around the entire village in search of Casey, asking anyone along the way if they had seen an American on a horse and if they could please – gasp, heavy pant – help me find her, I climbed to the top of a mountain to search for her from a bird’s eye view.

Right when I got to the top, I finally got a phonecall from my host sister telling me to come home because they had found Casey casually walking the horse down the street saying it was the best ride of her life.  

If my sister is going to come visit me in Peace Corps Armenia, I guess the least we can do is provide the villagers with stories to tell their friends over “surch” (coffee).  

“Grapes into wine” is about pressing through fear and discomfort to experience the freedom that exists within that.  When Casey took off on that horse, she literally went into “fight or flight” mode for a while, deciding whether or not to jump off the horse.  Her decision to stay on the horse required a great amount of trust – trust that the horse wouldn’t buck her off, that she had enough skill to ride at a gallop, etc.  It also required courage.  

Casey later explained that after sprinting past all the village homes, the horse slowed down when they reached miles of wheat fields, apple orchards, and wildflowers in a gorgeous valley outside the village.  She said she had never felt more free on a horse in her life.  To Casey’s enormous relief, the horse then stopped and allowed her to dismount in the middle of this landscape.

“It was the best ride of my life,” she told me for the second time.

“Yeah yeah alright but you almost died.  And I almost did too. What was so great      

I know you can't see this because the picture quality is
terrible, but this is the only photo we managed to get
from the experience after it was all over. I look wraught with
concerned (right), and Casey is full of joy (left).

   about it?”

“It was just sooooo liberating.” 

I think that’s what happens when we press through discomfort.  It requires a great deal of courage and trust to do it, but then we are set free.  

Weekly Grape:  Do I fight or flee when things become really uncomfortable?