Riding a Horse

When I was 12 years old, I went to a recreation place—Tawangmangu, to be precise—with my parents to spend my holiday there.
Kuda di Tawangmangu.jpg
The place was very beautiful: foggy but calming, a comfortable cold —not again, I’m afraid—weather and temperature, beautiful sceneries consist of forests, rice fields, and tea plantations. All was perfect.

Until when I tried to ride a horse, accompanied with a guide because I was still a little boy. It felt jiggling, unlike anything I’d seen from movies where the main characters and his friends march towards their enemies to fight inevitable wars. I admit, it felt uncomfortable as hell at first. However, it was one of the moments that I’ll forever cherish.

It was the time when my parents actually spent their time without having to worry about their works, where I didn’t have to face the awkwardness of friendships, and the time when even nature could astound me. I also remembered, the sky still had stars at night.

2 thoughts on “Riding a Horse

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