When you are a lesser known destination and you’re trying to drum up interest and better still investment, you need to lay it on. It’s a bit like selling a house. You have to help people see the potential. It fell to me to show potential investors how one could turn a dusty dune blow-out with exotic trees into an idyllic holiday spot.
I had been on the road selling sites non-stop for about three weeks. Lots of different people, some interesting, some pretentious, some pretenders, some the real deal. To say I was tired was an understatement. My itinerary for this day included a 12 km horse ride across a stretch of beautiful white beach with waves gently lapping the sand and a light breeze caressing the skin. My guests: one corrupt soul (aka Slick), two less than attractive dangerous looking types, one smart, distinguished gentleman, and a techno-junkie. Techno-junkie had every piece of electronic equipment known to man attached to his body and Slick, well he was being slick and handsy if you know what I mean. We arrived at the stables. At this point it is instructive for me to tell you I had never been on a horse, Techno-junkie had never been on a horse, the groom/guide did not speak any languages we understood, and Slick was a rider par-excellence. We all hopped onto our horses and set off over the dunes for the beach.
Techno-junkie’s horse dropped and rolled in the waves! We all jumped off to rescue the cameras, video cameras, binoculars, eye-seeing glasses, memory sticks, ipads, and ipods (the list is not exhaustive). Good host that I am, I swap horses with Techno-junkie. My steed emboldened by the new wimp on his back took off down the beach at a gallop. Slick tore off behind me uber excited that there was a fellow rider in the group. The faster his horse went, the faster my horse went. Then my foot slipped out of the stirrup. Not to be defeated I hung on, one leg beneath the horse’s stomach, the other over its back, and my arms around its neck. Finally we came to stop. “Jump off,” Slick said. “Not a chance,” I said. And then he got his chance; he put his hands on my very generous behind and heaved me back on my horse.
Three hours later the waves lapping on the beach and the gentle breeze no longer held any charm for us. Finally wind-blown and sunburnt we reached our destination. This barren unattractive space that had nothing going for it suddenly held the promise of the Garden of Eden. “Pure Zen” said the good-looking one. “We love it, where do we sign?” The moral of the story – when Slick suggests you get off the horse, get off the horse!