New Zealand Olympic dressage qualifier during a flying lead change at the Hawke's Bay Regional Dressage Championship. |
Black pudding (also known as “blood pudding”): I came about this delicacy
at the Hawkes Bay Farmers Market when curiously inquired to a Santa Claus
looking man, all but wearing the hat, about the contents of the black pudding. You
see, I thought that Black pudding sounded like a chocolate dish, and since
every stand had amazing little free samples, I was ready for my chocolate fix.
I failed to notice the rows of meat spread out on the tables before him.
This was a bit of a boobie trap, I think. He began with the history of
the pudding, then moved onto the contents, and finally offered me a sample. It’s
a delicacy in all regions governed by the Queen, it’s made of blood and ground
up pig organs (the ones they didn’t use for the sausage), and it was currently warm
and jiggly, right under my nose.
So I ate it. And it still was warm and it still was jiggly, except it
seemed a deeper red when it was closer to my mouth. So I smiled at him and
decided that I would never eat black pudding again.
The second word is the exact opposite of black pudding. It is cold,
rigid, and black/white.
Dressage: To those who do not know what it is, it reminds me of ballet
on horseback. Not just because of the dances that the horses do and the series
of complicated steps and the music, but because it is a sport where pain does
not exist. Fatigue does not exist. Competitions are watched in stony and tense
silence while a horse/human pair bares all efforts to complete intricate and
difficult motions. It is not a sport for the faint of heart.
Two judges sit in a car on the outside of the arena and do not even
come in contact with the horse/rider. They ring a bell and the competition
starts. All you can hear, as a spectator, is the labored breathing of the horse
and the beat by which it moves. Most of the time, the horse’s hooves never
touch the ground, making the horse and rider float through the air. Foam
sputters from the horse’s mouth and the rider remains stone cold, pressing her
mouth together into a flat line. Everything is still except for the massive
lift of the horses legs and the warm air, steaming up from the horse flesh.
Afterthought: You’re welcome for not posting an image of black pudding.
My role as a WWOOFer was to take care of this horse, Neo, and make him look good for his dressage competition. |
Final bow of a competitor at the dressage competition. |