Knowing how busy the next six months would be, it was only natural that after Christmas I’d want to enjoy my haven in the south of France a little longer, quietly preparing new repertoire (Debussy and Schumann) for recitals in February. At peace with the world, I could also contemplate the “adventure” ahead of me: six days of some serious horse-back riding in the mountainous region of Salta, in Argentina. Having seen some stunning pictures of the scenery in a previous trip (Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego) which my husband did with a group of friends three years ago, and in order not to miss out on the new proposed journey I duly cancelled the few concert dates which clashed with the trip to join in the fun.

We stopped over to see our eldest daughter who now lives in São Paulo: pity she wasn’t going, being a great rider… The most I had ridden (she was then with us) was on the sands of Cairo’s desert when a sleepy Egyptian guide took us on a rather flat but nonetheless exciting three-hour trek between the pyramids of Gizza and Sakhara…

Everyone in Brazil thought me quite mad to attempt such a stunt… “Are you insured? Are you really going to ride? What if you fall and hurt an arm, a hand?” As a result, once the departure approached, a bit of apprehension slightly crept in ... but typically when confronted with the unknown, I feel there is no point in worrying about it. Moreover many people who aren’t brilliant riders, manage it… hey, so would I!

And so I was transported to a series of visual ‘uncertainties’: slopes so steep and muddy that we had to dismount and send the horses ahead; deep precipices beside the rocky paths – they scared a couple of experienced riders who fell from their horses – but I preferred slightly glimpsing at them with the corner of my eyes. As we got to scarily ‘moving’ waters of a river, I asked our guide: “Hernán, you are joking, you don’t mean to say that we are crossing here, you’re just trying to scare me, right?!” Then… nothing to it: just follow the leader, leave the horse to do it! As the day advanced I could hardly wait for another go.

Feeling like a fish out-of-water upon arrival, it was sad to feel the end approaching: here was one unknown passion I could have developed! Who knows, I may have been born a real Amazon, coming from Brazil but instead, I became a concert pianist!

1.On the first night we (all nine of us) we were given one room, where there were the most basic bunk or camp beds plus one ‘semi-double’ available – you know what I mean: not a single, but too narrow to be called a double, my Mum used to call those “widow’s bed”. Since there was no door to it, chickens, dogs and piglets went into it freely unless we took turns in chasing them. Never in my wildest moment would I have imagined that one day I’d have to sleep with four men under the same room: of course, they were all > loud snorers! Help!

2. On the following nights, we learned to make a bed from the saddle plus a foam mat and own sleeping bags which we found to be quite comfortable, really! Or cope with bats, running mice or… things that went BUMP behind my head, which …I prefer not knowing what they were, thank you very much!

3. Believe it or not, we had no electricity, basic comfort or even running water…for all of four days! Adventure, I called it? Sure: but a brilliant one and I had the time of my life!

“Thanks, Angie and George for arranging it all!”

One unexpected encounter.

Forced to respond to a call of nature, down the slope I went, in a deeply dark night in my pyjamas, carefully choosing a quietly removed spot. As I… er ... got ready, two things happened simultaneously: my sandaled feet sank deep into wet and muddy water, and I heard moving noises near-by, plus some grunting. Lighting up my torch I saw a HUGE pig approaching my way, obviously curious to see who was visiting at that hour! I did not know whether to make a fuss and ‘shoo’ him away, or stay in the dark! But then, I wouldn’t see when the pig would get dangerously close to me, because of its sheer weight … don’t you come and ‘snort’ up at me… Ughh, horrible thought!

Next morning, I went back down the slope, out of curiosity as to how come… and realize there was a bit of river-bed… located next … to the resident pig’s mud-patch!

I admit on hindsight: it was hilarious!