Just $3.50 buys you an hour-long ride. Yes, an hour for less than a Happy Meal. The guide is paid another $3.50 for his efforts. So a guided hour-long ride for two people cost $10.50.

The Captain (owner of Los Capitanes) drove us to the horses. I expected a field, or stables. Instead he brought us to a fork in the road known as Kiosco Samy (.6 mile up Calle El Hato road leading to Hotel Campestre) where around fifteen horses were tied to a fence. A handful of locals were milling about, a few mothers with babies on their hips, but mostly boys and men. A matronly woman immediately came toward us and led Donna and I to our waiting horses.

She asked (in Spanish) if we wanted a guide. We looked at Captain who translated and nodded yes even before we could reply. Of course we needed a guide–even if we could ride we wouldn't know how to command the horse in Spanish. A young man advanced and introduced himself. And we were off.

Our guide didn't speak English. And we didn't speak Spanish. So the conversation was a little stilted as you can imagine. Nevertheless, both sides attempted some communication. (I was kicking myself for not taking Pimsler's audio Spanish more seriously–I was stuck on the fifth CD. But I did know lento and kept that in my memory. Just in case we lost control of our horses and needed to slow down. You never know!)

The horses followed a dirt road up a hill in a rural residential area. We passed several homes, all with clay-tiled roofs and manicured lawns inside decorative fences. Shapes were rather square in color washed fuchsia pink, brilliant orange, white or green; and windows were open to the elements but made secure by iron screens. Attention to plants, trees and shrubs was obvious here, and every lawn flourished with flowers.

Rolling hills forested in lumpy green provided the backdrop to these colorful homes, and eye-popping red or orange bird-of-paradise blossoms framed the roadside against tall grasses and ferns. Soft sounds added to the pastoral ride–water trickling down streams, lilting bird songs and the neighing of our horses.

Several times our guide led us into a trot, and one time into a gallop. He could tell we were inexperienced by our breathless laughing, and didn't push the horses too hard. We passed a group of children riding on our way back. "Hola gringos," they called waving and smiling.

Our horses followed the guide past a thick grove of bamboo and turned into the Los Capitanes property where we were staying.

We certainly didn't expect that kind of service.