My Ghetto Little Pony

Today I experienced a cross between the country of India and the Brazilian state of Minas Gerais.  No, this was not an interesting culinary experience, although that would, in fact, be hell of a lot interesting if I do say so myself. 

The combination came to be in a little neighborhood plaza in Tijuca.  It was the cross between a country horse, usually used to take the husband into town to by morning bread and beer.  Keep in mind I was implying morning to both bread and beer. 

Anyway, country horse and rickshaw.  Oh yes. My family of four rode around the congested streets of Tijuca in a ricksaw pulled by a horse. Personally, I think it was a lot like Asia only planned a bit better by the driver.

In fear of sounding redundant, it was interesting to say the least. First off, I'm afraid of horses. It's not because I don't like them.  It's because I've seen their power used for evil instead of good and I have the utmost respect for it.  I felt like I was mocking the horse in that tiny rickshaw and that he could kick us over and cause hell should he deem it necessary. 

But the kids liked it. And let's keep in mind, my kids are city kids.  Hell, my oldest could hail a cab and a bus before he turned 2 years old. Yes, in Rio we hail buses. It's a beautiful thing and, at the same time, quite curiously alarming, if you ask me.  

I made a little note to myself, after my oldest asked me to write in his school notebook that he went on a horseback ride this weekend, get these boys to the country ASAP!

For your enjoyment, a real picture of the experience: