Azores Day: 1

We got off the plane, were "upgraded" from an AWD Toyota Yaris to an FWD Mercedes, and were immediately recognized as tourists EVERYWHERE. First order of business: cheese croissants with butter and pastries from a little shop. The man behind the counter turned to Fern and asked simply, "butter?" Fern responded, "espresso." I swooped in and saved the day with a very confident "yes, please." The man looked at Fern with genuine sadness in his eyes.

It was only men everywhere — on every corner, in every direction. How fascinating. Where are the women? Do they exist, or only at the grocery store (more on this later)?

We checked into the hotel, and the man made us walk up every single level of stairs with our overweight bags.

We changed quickly and sped over to Quinta da Terça for a horseback riding excursion — all rescues. We met our guide, Hugo, and a cat named Sofia. Hugo was an itty-bitty horse fairy with massive quads — the sweetest man, so incredibly chatty, and he knew an enormous amount about the local flora, which I absolutely loved. At one point, I got to pick a passionfruit right off a vine as we rode. He told me all about the island and his experiences, and I shared ours in return. What I did not know until after the ride was that Fern had absolutely no idea what either of us was saying the entire time — she had just been nodding and giving thumbs up. I only figured this out because I kept referencing Hugo's stories, and she had no idea what I was talking about.

We got onto the horses, and Fern looked absolutely terrified (her horse was already jerking his head — great sign).

The ride itself was so much fun. We went through little towns along the highway, up through the mountains, and into what felt like an undiscovered rainforest, all while surrounded by beautiful lava-rock walls. We did a big mix of walking, trotting, cantering, and galloping, and it felt like a lesson and an excursion all in one — very enjoyable (for me, at least). My horse, Ludsko, was extremely lazy and refused to move without Fern's horse, Rattle, directly on his ass. Rattle kept trying to overtake Ludsko, so Fern had to pull back on the reins so hard she came away with battle wounds on both hands. I may or may not have also sprained a finger — details, details.

At one point, Hugo's horse got very skittish and nearly threw him off. Hugo had to reprimand him firmly — "RESPECT. RESPECT. RESPECT." — which was a little scary, but we moved on unscathed.

We dismounted very gracefully, thanked Hugo, and tipped him 13% (to which he responded with four very warm hugs).

Enjoy the photos and videos — and before you say anything, yes, I know I might look a little funky up there, but Hugo told me I had phenomenal balance and was genuinely surprised I don't ride regularly. So...

We returned to the hotel feeling great and accomplished, changed into our swimsuits, and I discovered I was covered in full-body hives. 5/2 Benadryl later, and they disappeared — no need to worry — but it may be safe to say I am actually allergic to horses.

We headed to the Caldeiras de Ribeira Grande thermal baths, which were in a truly scenic area but very small, and the water was sulfuric and littered with evidence of other humans (pubes and phlegm :)). It was the kind of place little Fern would never be seen in. That said, it was relaxing enough that I caught myself dozing off more than once.

We headed back to the hotel, showered, changed, hit the grocery store, and stocked up on snacks, drinks, and an unreasonable number of Kinder Eggs to pregame dinner. Rotas restaurant was very cute with extremely friendly staff, but everything tasted like cow — even the vegetarian dishes — and we both felt a little ill afterward. Apparently, everything in the Azores tastes like cow, except the pastries. The pastries are sacred.

We are absolutely bruised and destroyed from horseback riding and genuinely do not know how Hugo is out there thriving. 10/10 day, bruises and all.

P.S. soaked post horses, but I think Ludsko thrives in the rain...

♡ Ink