I want a pony. Fine, I'll take a horse. It's not that I need a horse, as in my host sister asking me, "Why do you need a horse?" It's that I want a horse, like any other 10-year-old.
Now before you start lecturing me, let me just say that since it was proven that I'm too irresponsible to care for three fish or a dog, I think a horse is a much better option. You should hear how Paraguayans talk about it. Just throw it in a barn and sprinkle a little hay on it.
At first I thought it was crazy. Plus, people who have horses in Yataity are the Need Horses kind of people, wrangling things in the field. No one goes trotting through the countryside with the wind in their hair, silouetted against the wild flowers like they're posing for the cover of a romance novel.
So I thought my own fantasies were silly.
But then my host mom said I could just keep the horse at her mother's barn. And Oscar said the horse (Cloe?) could just eat the sugar cane they grow and graze in their field. Then I just happened to hop on the same Asuncion bus with my friend Nate, and, with a twinkle in his eye known only to the pony-owning, described the joy of taking care of the horse he'd just bought and how it's not even that much work or that expensive and it is instead "awesome."
And then, my host uncle told me about his horse who he used to ride and then sold, and that the guy who bought it now wants to sell this pretty, tame, riding horse (Princess?). Two million Guaranies ($434) for a horse with all the little horsie accessories and a "guarantee", which I don't know exactly what that means in Paraguay horse-talk, but it sounds good.
Part of me is grown up, and says, "No, you can not have a pony." To which the part of me that is still 10-years-old replies: "Says who?"
But I promise to think about it for at least two weeks, like an adult.
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