are you serious
As this project goes on and the weeks start looking more like the full year, I'm asked more and more about where I've been and where was "the best so far?" There is no easy answer to that question - each site is different and they are not playing on a level playing field - so I appease the polite question with a sincere and truthful "they are all so different, each is good at something else."
I think people are expecting a quick and repeatable answer, like "Brazil" or "they were all great, but you know, Australia's system just blew the rest out of the water." But firstly, I don't think any program is explicitly better than another, a statement I've been making since day one, and secondly the countries I have chosen were purposefully not equal to begin with in terms of economy, available land, and equestrian history. How can I compare rural Uruguay with sub-urban Germany? Even so, I dislike hierarchical comparisons because they serve little purpose towards global improvement, that is, they let the "better" facilities off the hook for growth and learning.
So towards the end of my year, it would seem that I've just confirmed my hypothesis, namely that programs around the world are, well, different.
When I look back over the places I've been, though, I must admit some do stand out in my mind. In terms of pure therapy, I learned more earlier on my trip as I was on the steepest rise of my learning curve. I also visited the most personally challenging locations (Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Honduras) first and the most comfortable ones (Singapore, Australia, England) in the second half. Nonetheless, the first places I think about when reflecting are always Mexico, Brazil, Uruguay and Argentina. Why these places... for their outstanding dedication in adverse conditions? For their creative solutions to problems like lack of community or government support? For their innovative procedures given their newcomer status to therapeutic riding? Sure, these things were impressive, but mostly because the locations were fun.
In another year I won't be able to spit back memorized statistics, remember how to say "place the ball in the bucket" in Spanish, or speak intelligently about the situation of the population of Hondurans with Down's Syndrome. But I will remember learning samba steps in Brasilia, calling the Mariachi "ayayayayayayayiiii!" in Mexico, the having a secret midnight civilians' feast in the Cavalry barracks of Uruguay, and driving through vast expanses of pampas in Argentina. This fellowship is about collecting adventures and experiences, and in that sense I've received much more than expected.
I did have plenty of adventures in the latter countries and continue to do so in England, but the lively and outgoing culture of Latin America is unparalleled. I do not mean to say the others are not fun or I didn't enjoy them, nor that I enjoyed every minute of Latin America. But I doubt the jumping competitions of the quite serious UK often end up as all-night social occasions as did the one I saw at the Club Hipico de Porto Alegre, Brasil.
And the fun is not left outside the riding arena. If the therapy team enjoys life it is evident not only after hours, but during the session. In an alternative therapy, where the client has the right to simply stop coming if he/she doesn't like it, a sense of joy is essential to the program's own survival. No one is in therapeutic riding to make money or become famous (if you are, get out now!!) so it makes sense that those who have undertaken the challenge must necessarily be full of gratitude for the life they do have. Granted, some riders need a serious riding teacher, but riding need not be work. A challenge is good, but forcing someone just creates bitterness.
The other question I'm often asked is what I plan to do after I return to the US. I know I won't go into therapeutic riding full time. I don't want to get burned out and lose the passion for it, and it's not self-sustaining on its own. I do know that I'll continue to learn and be as involved as I can. I do want to run my own multidisciplinary program one day, involving riding as well as outdoor education to run multi-day trips for people with disabilities into the mountains. I'd like to specialize in women-only trips and focus on empowerment. But what I've learned from this is that it must be fun, or I'll go crazy. Well, crazier.
To close, I'm reminded of what a student at my current placement said to me yesterday while pushing a wheelbarrow across the stable-yard. I noted he was singing joyfully as he worked to which he replied "got to sing! Got to sing to get the job done!" and off he went, singing his song.
I think people are expecting a quick and repeatable answer, like "Brazil" or "they were all great, but you know, Australia's system just blew the rest out of the water." But firstly, I don't think any program is explicitly better than another, a statement I've been making since day one, and secondly the countries I have chosen were purposefully not equal to begin with in terms of economy, available land, and equestrian history. How can I compare rural Uruguay with sub-urban Germany? Even so, I dislike hierarchical comparisons because they serve little purpose towards global improvement, that is, they let the "better" facilities off the hook for growth and learning.
So towards the end of my year, it would seem that I've just confirmed my hypothesis, namely that programs around the world are, well, different.
When I look back over the places I've been, though, I must admit some do stand out in my mind. In terms of pure therapy, I learned more earlier on my trip as I was on the steepest rise of my learning curve. I also visited the most personally challenging locations (Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Honduras) first and the most comfortable ones (Singapore, Australia, England) in the second half. Nonetheless, the first places I think about when reflecting are always Mexico, Brazil, Uruguay and Argentina. Why these places... for their outstanding dedication in adverse conditions? For their creative solutions to problems like lack of community or government support? For their innovative procedures given their newcomer status to therapeutic riding? Sure, these things were impressive, but mostly because the locations were fun.
In another year I won't be able to spit back memorized statistics, remember how to say "place the ball in the bucket" in Spanish, or speak intelligently about the situation of the population of Hondurans with Down's Syndrome. But I will remember learning samba steps in Brasilia, calling the Mariachi "ayayayayayayayiiii!" in Mexico, the having a secret midnight civilians' feast in the Cavalry barracks of Uruguay, and driving through vast expanses of pampas in Argentina. This fellowship is about collecting adventures and experiences, and in that sense I've received much more than expected.
I did have plenty of adventures in the latter countries and continue to do so in England, but the lively and outgoing culture of Latin America is unparalleled. I do not mean to say the others are not fun or I didn't enjoy them, nor that I enjoyed every minute of Latin America. But I doubt the jumping competitions of the quite serious UK often end up as all-night social occasions as did the one I saw at the Club Hipico de Porto Alegre, Brasil.
And the fun is not left outside the riding arena. If the therapy team enjoys life it is evident not only after hours, but during the session. In an alternative therapy, where the client has the right to simply stop coming if he/she doesn't like it, a sense of joy is essential to the program's own survival. No one is in therapeutic riding to make money or become famous (if you are, get out now!!) so it makes sense that those who have undertaken the challenge must necessarily be full of gratitude for the life they do have. Granted, some riders need a serious riding teacher, but riding need not be work. A challenge is good, but forcing someone just creates bitterness.
The other question I'm often asked is what I plan to do after I return to the US. I know I won't go into therapeutic riding full time. I don't want to get burned out and lose the passion for it, and it's not self-sustaining on its own. I do know that I'll continue to learn and be as involved as I can. I do want to run my own multidisciplinary program one day, involving riding as well as outdoor education to run multi-day trips for people with disabilities into the mountains. I'd like to specialize in women-only trips and focus on empowerment. But what I've learned from this is that it must be fun, or I'll go crazy. Well, crazier.
To close, I'm reminded of what a student at my current placement said to me yesterday while pushing a wheelbarrow across the stable-yard. I noted he was singing joyfully as he worked to which he replied "got to sing! Got to sing to get the job done!" and off he went, singing his song.
posted by Sarah at 2:00 AM
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