Chongqing Bank Takes Us to Experience Equestrian Culture – Our First Time at Deji Horse Industry

Chongqing Bank Xi'an Economic Development Sub-branch, to express gratitude to new and long-standing customers for their strong support, specially arranged for everyone to visit Deji Horse Industry and immerse in equestrian culture. The weather was sunny—a perfect day for an outing, and the ideal time for an autumn excursion.

Chongqing Bank had thoughtfully planned the day's activities. Toddlers, accompanied by grandparents and parents, could get close to the cats and dogs in the garden, and even feed the rabbits, lambs, and peacocks. Older children could try mounted archery. Archery demands strength and was a favorite among the boys. Horse riding requires courage—brave boys and girls alike began listening attentively to the instructor’s explanation. Fishing enthusiasts could cast a line by the pond, and for those who wanted to do nothing, a leisurely stroll through the grounds or relaxing in a tent with seasonal fruits—bananas, cherry tomatoes, winter jujubes, and mandarins—was just as inviting. Help yourself to whatever you fancied.

Everyone gave a thumbs-up to Chongqing Bank’s meticulous arrangements.

At the riding arena, a trainer was lunging a small horse. A rein around five meters long was tied to a pony no taller than a person on one end, while the other end was wrapped around the trainer’s left hand. In his right, he wielded a long whip, making the pony trot in circles. The horse moved lightly and rhythmically—so graceful.

The action looked simple and mechanical, and I thought I could manage it too. So I took over the lunging from the trainer, swinging my arm and cracking the whip with as much flair as he did. Five minutes later, I found I couldn’t keep it up. My right arm grew sore and weak, the whip swings feeble, and the pony’s canter noticeably slowed down.

The trainer told me not to stop, to slap harder, and that I should lunge for at least twenty minutes.

Trainer’s work is definitely not easy; I meekly handed back the rein and whip.

Curious, I asked why lunge a small horse?

The trainer explained that children would be riding today. Animals are naturally mischievous, so lunging them first calms them down and stops them from acting up later.

We visited the stables, where a coach was teaching a lesson. Inside a circular training pen about five meters in diameter, a young student was taking a class—mainly English-style riding. English equitation uses a neat, compact saddle and places great emphasis on posture: the rider must sit upright, displaying full gentlemanly grace. In harmony with the pony’s brisk, elegant steps, the rider moves with the rhythm, rising and sitting in the saddle—feet firmly in the stirrups, up, down, up, down. The trained child rode with real style.

In the stable, the shortest Shetland pony stood only seventy centimeters, impossible to tell it was already over four years old. In the next stall, a one-year-old foal towered above it. This foal, with a white stripe down its nose, had a gentle temperament. Stroking its nose was especially soothing, and those tender, big eyes utterly charmed me.

The tallest horse in the barn was over two meters high; I had to tilt my head up to see it. A young man exclaimed how majestic it looked, imagining how dashing it would be to ride such a tall, steed to fetch a bride. A fine idea—so why not change into riding gear and feel what it’s like on horseback?

Good heavens, without a mounting block, how many people could vault as lightly as I did onto the horse?

Once in the saddle, the coach had me stand in the stirrups, sit, stand again, and sit, then touch my right foot with my left hand and left foot with my right hand, twist my body and stretch my waist. This was to check whether the saddle and stirrups were adjusted properly. Only when everything was right did the coach dare hand me the reins.

The coach said to grip the horse’s sides with my calves and kick firmly with my heels to make it go. I tapped with my heels; the horse didn’t budge. “Harder,” said the coach, “use your waist strength, really push.” The horse finally started moving, but it kept veering toward the coach instead of running straight. The coach told me to use the reins to steer. When I tried hard to correct it, the horse simply stopped. I kicked its belly again with my heels, and it broke into a graceful little trot, almost dancing. The coach kept correcting me: “Sit straight, eyes forward, keep the reins below your navel, kick the horse’s belly, then let your whole calf slide forward against its side.” When the horse trotted, I had to move with its rhythm… This naughty thing didn’t listen well; after a few steps it stopped again.

Earlier, a child had managed effortlessly—why was it so hard for me? Was it harder than reaching the sky to get you to trot a couple more steps?

If our twenty-minute session hadn’t ended, I’d have shown you who’s in charge.

My friend Dafang also spent his twenty minutes kicking the horse’s belly. After dismounting, he said, “This is more tiring than running—look at this sweat.”

Ah, why is it so difficult to make a horse run? Honor guards have to march in perfect step, in neat formation, even jump obstacles. Without professional training, thinking you can freely ride a good horse is, as Dafang put it, far harder than driving a car. In novels, jousting on horseback must be doubly demanding.

After a joyful morning, Chongqing Bank prepared a hearty farmhouse lunch—an iron-pot stew. The aroma of free-range chicken and spare ribs was already wafting over. After tussling with fine horses all morning, the stew was just right for us warriors fresh from the arena. The popularity of this robust dish was no surprise; at the table, everyone once again gave a thumbs-up to Chongqing Bank.

Our thanks to Chongqing Bank’s Economic Development Sub-branch for hosting this gathering. The gentle Manager Wei and her capable team had arranged everything with care, leaving us thoroughly fulfilled and happy.

Thank you all for your hard work!

(October 31, 2020)