Hanging by a Moment in Slovenia

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With Lipica steeped in centuries of tradition, and the fact that Classical horse riding is pretty much reserved for the elite, I felt like I was crashing a party at the country club. Especially when I was assigned two beautiful trainers for a crash course in Classical riding on a Lipizzaner. Fabrizia was from Italy (the border is just a few hundred metres away) and Monica from Slovenia, and both shook their heads universally as I tried my best to make Slovena, my unicorn, trot along the boards of the indoor training centre. Unlike Western Riding, more befitting my style, experience and gonzo hat, Classical Riding is about form, posture, and physical nuances. The slightest movement is interpreted by the horse, and by squeezing my legs and holding the reins, I was telling my guy: “I have no idea what I’m doing, please don’t buck and trample me to death, I saw what you did to Christopher Reeve and if you can cripple Superman you’ll make mincemeat of Modern Gonzo.”

Lipica offers weeklong courses, and after a short uncontrollable stint outside, it was decided to call it a day for the lessons in the interests of everyone’s safety. I walked Slovena back to the stable, my ass numb from the trot, and decided its probably best I stick to tourist horses with names like Jigsaw and Candy, and gallop on plains and beaches. Fab and Monica demonstrated how it should be done for the camera, by running their horses in the countryside, right over the unprotected border with Italy. Watching their Lipizzaners in stride was something to behold, although this was a just a taste of what was to come the following morning.

For Paul’s birthday, our guide Tillin loaded us in the van for a drive to the Slovenian beach holiday town called Portoroz. Twenty minutes drive later we crossed for Italian border for the hell of it, skirting the port city of Trieste. Another hour and we could be in Croatia. For Paul’s birthday, we gave him a taste of Italy, some fine pizza, and a vicious hangover the following morning.

Rising early, we set up on a field as the mares made their way to the pasture. About forty ghost white Lipizzaner horses entered from the gate and broke out into a gallop, their hooves thundering past us, kicking up dust in the sunshine. It’s not quite the migration of wildebeest in the Serengeti, but as an animal encounter it was no less thrilling. Later, I approached the group of mares, walking slowly with confidence, trying to seduce them like a pick up artist horse whisperer. Their heads perked up, they formed a protective circle, but after some time seemed to relax. A single large mare walked up to me and sniffed me out. I gently patted her nose, rubbed her ears, and after that, suitably accepted, I was allowed to roam amongst them. Without waxing on about connecting with the creatures we share the planet with, I will say I had a real touching moment out there, in the quiet meadow, surrounded by noble Lipizzaner femininity. When they cantered off, I ran with them, which in retrospect might have been a pretty stupid thing to do considering, as Chris reminded me later, I was sandwiched in by a ton of muscular animal. Like so many other times during the filming of Word Travels, we got it all on film, and I can’t wait to see it.

Although the Russians have promised to withdraw, there was still conflict and angry words thrown about between NATO and Putin as we closed out the week in Ljubljana. Considering we were supposed to be in one of the world’s political and military hotspots, the contrast of the order and efficiency that surrounded me was stark. Boats on the canals, fresh gelato on the streets, stylish patio bars and bike rides in green parks. Slovenia could well be the most peaceful, civilized and beautiful country in Europe. I paraglided in the Alps, swam in an stunning crystal lake, swung from high ropes, and wandered in a meadow of unicorns. I had unforgettable moments. That’s the best I can expect when it comes to the crazy ride of a lifetime that I call Modern Gonzo.

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