22/7: The hostel in Santa Barbara where we stayed might be the worst hostel I’ve ever stayed at. And considering my extensive travels in Bolivia and Peru, that says quite a lot. You see, it also happened to be the most expensive.
But one of the staff of the hostel had a dog that lived in the back yard, where the hostel guests also parked their cars. The dog was a rescue and extremely suspicious of strangers. He shied away when someone tried to pat him. But in the evening, while sitting on the back porch getting some air before going to sleep, I tried some of my knewly aquired natural horsemanship knowledge on him. The things Jay taught me at Time Out Farms, about body language, looks and intentions. And, believe it or not, the dog started walking toward me, one step at a time, until it finally stood there right in front of me and let me pat it on the head. Just then, the owner came out and was really surprised at how friendly we had become, me and her dog. She said that he usually didn’t approach strangers, that he mistrusted everyone except her and her boyfriend.
See, I really have learned some useful stuff during my wwoofing months. I cannot only talk with horses now, I can also communicate with mistrusting dogs.
Sunday morning. My backpack just kept on growing.
We went down to the beach again, to enjoy the sun for a couple of hours before doing the touristy Santa Barbara.
I sat there, with sand between my toes, reading “Fragile Things” by Neil Gaiman, and couldn’t be happier. I’m not much for sun-and-beach holidays, I would never stand a two week stay at a beach in Thailand. But once in a while, I can really enjoy the feel of sand between my toes, the sun on my skin and the sound of the ocean gently hitting the shore.
Katja Malmborg 