Sussex Polo

“Within seconds he said “beer?”  What a guy.  Ten minutes later he offered me another one.  He is now my most favourite Argentinean.”

Well this year the honour of coming up with some appropriately descriptive words of my family’s experience in Argentina falls to me.  Sadly I omitted to warn Sallie Anne of my warped sense of humour, Tourette’s and dyslexia so I make my apologies for the following now.

By way of background we travelled as a family of four.  Two kids, Georgia aged nine and Toby aged 7 (and wife Jum aged 36).

I admit there is some puzzlement as to how we actually got there.  Polo and horse riding is new to me and to say I am gifted would be a load of ….!  Inept would best describe my horse skills.  Arriving with a handful of lessons from Harry and two months of Arena [polo] experience does not, I fear, put me in the premiership of Argentinean Polo Gods.  You just wait though!

A daughter who loves everything with a horse in it, a son with no concept of his own safety, or anyone else’s, and a wife who does not ride.  Is this going to work?  I have no idea.  This was either the affirmation of a Polo love affair or a divorce.  Either way I am broke!

On arrival in Buenos Aires we fall into the taxi.  After a little snore and a bit of dribble we arrive to a gleaming Memo waiting to show us his ranch.  Within seconds he said “beer?”  What a guy.  Ten minutes later he offered me another one.  He is now my most favourite Argentinean.

It took us minutes to appreciate the beauty of this country and more importantly the estancia!  Imagine the middle of nowhere under an enormous sky, a beautiful garden, kids riding bareback on the south American equivalent of a Shetland Pony (I assume they are called Falkland Ponies but don’t want to mention the ‘F’ word), humming birds in the flowers, parrots and falcons everywhere, a frog chorus like no other I have ever heard and more cold beer.  We melted into the pace and were embarrassingly well-looked after by Memo and his beautiful family.

The Lent family arrived a few days later and I’m by now riding like a local, well that’s what I overheard the grooms say.  My wife informs they were saying “loco” whatever that means.

The three English kids through sign language and a bit of Spanish made great friends with Memo’s extended family, I hardly saw them again for two weeks.  They had riding, puppies, foals, a pool, coke, ice cream, no bed time, freedom and no parents within earshot.  Heaven!  For the first time ever I have had a family holiday and I missed the kids.

Duane and Sallie Anne tirelessly gave me an education in everything Polo and it was not long before Duane suggested my first competitive chukkas, by day three no less.  Loco my arse!

To say the Argentineans didn’t chase me enthusiastically is a bit of an understatement.  I think it was the whiff of Marlboro in mid-chase that made me realise they were not taking me too seriously.  They weren’t wrong.  The chances of me taking the ball more than 100 yards was optimistic to say the least.  This was the beginning though and every day Memo made me a bit better.

Amazingly not once did the Lents side step us to avoid another evening of Polo Mastermind and on many nights we went to town to feast on the best steak ever.  One night however we were stranded in town as a lake dropped upon us mid meal and the middle of nowhere was not going to be home that night. The Lents now had us all night as well, lucky things!  We however had to experience the charm of the Gran Hotel.  Clean, yes, but it brought back memories of staying at Granny’s.  So before thoughts of a wet sloppy kiss came back to me to complete this nostalgic experience we are off polo shopping and then back to the ranch pronto.

Everyday Memo selected different horses for me, and had found some beauties.  Except one.  I think he was called Satan or Fang.  Memo, clearly too scared to break him in, wanted me to do it.  Imagine my surprise when I saw Terence aged 8 riding him (rather well I might add).  Clearly I did a good job!

By day 10, the Lents had flown in reinforcements.  Amanda (polo manager for 2007 – she is wonderful) and Richard ‘Two-Chukka-and-Fall’ Buckfield, and Nick, the tall young blonde Professional who I am not the slightest bit jealous of. (He probably has a small willy.)  I thought I’d better lift my game a bit and show him a thing or two!  Wrong again.

To date, Memo was my favourite Argentinean.  Then I got introduced to a rather handsome ginger male.  Now Brokeback Mountain it wasn’t, but he was the most incredible horse.  He was polite to my wife, good with the kids and on the grass it was as if Memo had shoved a chilli up his bottom.  A love affair has started and I can feel myself going shopping again.  I did.  Saddles and bridles for my new best friend.  My wife did not appear threatened by my new love affair, and the clothes I kept buying him (probably relieved I suspect) and Fosforito got the vote to come home.  I just had to persuade Duane and Memo to part with him.  My plan was to talk them into submission and wear them down that way.  I regret their enthusiasm for the sport continued to spill over in unstoppable quantities.  Another plan was needed…I suspected cash might work!

The worst bit was that I found another horse, Melba.  She was also very special and what with Fosforito getting lonely on the way to England…  it seemed cruel not to.  Well, if you’re drowning, what’s another bucket of water?

When I agreed to take on this literary challenge Sallie Anne told me that I would have no shortage of things to write.  She was right; I really could do with six more pages to cover everything.  So in summary before the editor gets the scissors out. I shot a gun, but not as well as Memo who I really would not mess with, went fishing and saw a big fish with big teeth, saw a rodeo and realised that gauchos don’t bounce, saw a horse being broken the Memo way – it was subtle, gentle and thrilling to watch, saw a horse being broken in the non-Memo way and watched another gaucho fail to bounce, saw big storms and my bottom got very sore after two weeks of intensive riding.  I might add that Amanda, the new polo manager, did not once offer to rub cream on my bottom.  Sorry guys, but blame Sallie Anne for the omission in the job description!

So still married but with two new loves in my life – and one’s a bloke!!!

My riding and missing improved dramatically.  I felt confident and smelt Marlboro less and less.  For me this was not just a holiday, it was a life correction.  It was an experience, and with two ponies it was a tad expensive.

So if you are thinking of taking the plunge next New Year – you can’t, as we’ve already booked it.

Remember the biggest danger in life is not taking the adventure.  Don’t hesitate – go and experience Argentina.  It’s fabulous and the people are even better.

To Memo, Carla, Sofia, Mateo, Pablo, Nicole and Soy and the rest of your beautiful family (not forgetting your cousins which was the rest of the town) and your amazing grooms, a huge “thank you”.  To Duane and Sallie Anne, thank you too, but I still have more questions!  And lastly to Amanda, be warned, by next year the members will have changed your job description!