TOPETOPETOPE

Oh jeez - to even BEGIN to talk about today makes me far more exhausted than I already am. Luckily, I really like talking and writing stuff down. I'm tempted to leave this for tomorrow and maybe I'll still refine this before I post, but I have to get all this good stuff down.

Today, I rode in a tope. Right, which in past blogs I've mistakenly called a ''horse parade''. It was so much more than just tromping along a dirt road to get to some random place for a dance. My first clue that this was something far more serious was the discussion about my wardrobe in the last two days. I was perfectly content to wear a nice tee shirt, skinny jeans, hiking boots and my Stetson. That wasn't going to fly. I was told that I absolutely had to wear a long sleeve (or at least 3/4 length) plaid shirt. Also, I wasn't allowed to wear hiking boots, we'd find someone my size who could lend me riding boots. That ended up being my uncle and as worried as he was that they were old and ugly, I said, ''No worries, I need all the help I can get to look legitimate. I'll leave no doubt that I'm not from 'round here when I demonstrate my horsemanship.'' My host mom lent me a size small Talbot´s petite, plaid, red button up. Which is why, if you've checked my Facebook, you see that I wore a shirt underneath and tied the plaid shirt up under my boobs. To top it all off, the thing that I could not leave the house without was my Stetson. I did gain some vaquera (cowgirl) points for owning my own hat, even if it is a different style than is used locally. I walked out of my house and met whistles and shouts from near all my family members. Once I was on the horse, it was over, I won the medal for crowd pleasing today. I didn't know so many people in my family had cameras and cell phones until they were all taking pictures of me.

Only, I ruined it - a neighbor asked, ''What's in the bag?'' because indeed, I did carry a rather large tote bag. I replied, ''It's the change of clothes for the dance tonight in case I don't make it back in time to change here.'' Laughter. ''Ay, Lily...''

Right. So. It was also no secret that my host cousin procured me the slowest moving mare within 20 miles of town. That was on purpose because I asked him pretty please to get me a horse that wouldn't kill me. What I didn't count on was that this horse would like...refuse to move. I found out later that it was partially my fault (when handled correctly it will actually move a lot faster. A lot faster). But to get it out the family yard and into the street I and the other riders had to do some coaxing. Eventually we got on our way and after stopping for awhile in a neighbor's farm to pick up more riders, I left Las Pozas for the San Lázaro tope with six gen-yoo-ine cowboys. Lord help me.

We followed a pretty wide path from the side of this farm all the way to the corral where the social part of the tope was being held - this is what I didn't account for in my ponderings of what the day would be like. I figured there'd be a horse parade that would roll through my town and we'd just join it until we arrived in San Lázaro. No sir. We got to the corral and I paid $20 bucks (jue...!) to get a fabric plaque with a number on it pinned to my back. I also got one meal card and four drink cards to redeem at my choosing. I started to get nervous - my friends who just ran the marathon in Panama had numbers on their bodies. Professional sports players wear numbers. Bull riders wear numbers. Lily does not wear numbers. I panicked silently for two minutes before I asked my cousin, ''So...um, what do these numbers mean? They're not expecting me to compete in anything, right?'' But nope - thank God that the numbers were just a part of a raffle that would be held later on. It's an odd use of number pinning, but whatevs. I was safe.

We got to the corral around 1:00 pm. Starting at 1:30, the organizers (the Cemetery Committee of San Lázaro...funny, because I'm pretty sure in a town named Saint Lazarus there'd be decreased demand for such a committee) handed out plates of food to all the riders every half hour. I was also getting my drink on. Unfortunately, because of the drink, I soon had to find a bathroom. I thought my options would be slim, but I was not expecting a corrugated tin shed with a slightly elevated cement ring in the middle.  And, because I know y'all love it when I talk about bathrooms, I can tell you I would prefer it any day to some bathrooms I have seen in Ecuador.  Just as a comparison.

But also in my big bag of fresh clothes, I had hand sanitizer. After that I hung around with the riders for a bit more and then all of a sudden it was time to go - the big truck with speakers on it was announcing our departure and playing some typical folk music and so everybody mounted up and got going in a big group. I'd say there were no less than 50 people on horses.

We didn't just keep going until San Lázaro - there was a stop at a bar that was like, open bar for the riders...I had blanched at paying $20 to enter this thing but I made out like a bandit in that deal. Twenty minutes there and we continued as a group to give a turn around the main plaza in town and end up at the town hall. This was the tope's reception and there was still more drink (although to my disappointment, no more fried/grilled meat and tortillas like there was in the corral). There they did the raffle and two of the people in my group won some prizes. They were prizes that were fitting to the occasion - a new line of rope to one and a bottle of Old Parr to the other. After that there was some music and dancing. But mostly I just sat around for two hours while men my father's age told me, ''Your eyes are so pretty in the sunlight! But don't worry, I'm a happy married man! Come on, let's dance.'' After two hours, that gets as old as they are. I was kind of missing girl-company this whole day, too. It's okay when you're on the horse and you've got all these daydreams about how bad ass you look to distract you. When you're sitting in a bar just hanging out and trying to follow a conversation about furniture building in Spanish...meh. I was a little tired of that.

I said to one of my friends, ''I think I'm heading home...I can just go the way we came, right?'' And he said, ''Noooo, you can't go alone, it's way too dangerous, two of us will go with you now.'' So that was okay and we started heading back. Like every other event that takes place ''now'', it was more than forty five minutes before we got past the bar we had previously stopped at during the tope. In their defense, there were some finals being played today between two national teams in soccer. And to my everlasting delight, when we stopped at this bar there were people lined up outside the windows to see the game on the T.V. inside. They were shoulder to shoulder and moving all around each other, drinking beer and yelling at the players. And they were still on their horses. Not just a line of people packed tightly together, but their horses as well. That was great.

We finally head out - I'm tired because I'd been out dancing the night before and because I'd had some stuff to drink early in the afternoon. I'm also a little bored by the plodding, stolid pace of my mare. I'd been motivating her all day with kind words of praise when she did something well and also occasionally smacking her rear with a tajona, a small leather whip. When we're back on the highway headed back to Las Pozas I told my cousin, ''I don't want you guys to spend all night taking me back and then you have to turn around. You're losing too much time. Tell me what to do to make Rosa run.'' I was instructed to bring the reins up closer to her ears, give it some slack and crack the tajona. So I did.

I wish...hmm...I wish I could encapsulate the absolute terror I felt into one easy punchy sentence. But I can't. It wasn't just being afraid, it was also surprise that the mare could move. I mean, move. She went from racing turtles (and losing) to hauling ass in less than a second. My cousin and his friend started galloping, too and the three of us were bolting down the highway towards my town. Rosa started to slow a little bit so I just made the noises that I'd heard all day and she started moving faster. My hat flew off and when the cord caught my hat ended up somewhere around my shoulder. I'm pretty sure I was laughing maniacally. And, to top it all off, there were still people at the convenience store in my town, sitting outside and chatting. So they saw the three of us blow through and I heard more shouts and whistles as I pulled up the reins and led a trotting Rosa into the family yard. Great bookends for the day.

Speaking of ends - I thought I was being all cool and becoming a vaquera throughout this experience, especially the last ten minutes. My rear has other ideas. I have two cheeks yelling at me in tandem, demanding, ''What was that nonsense about, huh?! Look at me now!'' I was already thinking about the next time that I'd like to ride a horse, but I'm going to have to wait at least a few days to recuperate.

And that's that. Tope over. Althouuuuuughhhh....there's always the tope in Santa Cruz in January. Over 1,000 horses and riders enter. And that's far enough away for Mom to send me my checkered shirt and riding boots from home (erm, yes...the ones I've never used in 10 years will now become my preferred footwear).