Sometimes Life Requires a Stirrup Cup



There is a tradition in the foxhunting world of offering a stirrup cup those
about to ride out. It is a drink, usually port wine or sherry, offered to a
rider when her feet are in the stirrups and the hunt is about to leave. The
Scots call a stirrup cup Â"dochan doruisÂ", a farewell drink or drink of the
door and often offer it to guests when they are about to leave. The
English, shown through hundreds of years of literature, offered a stirrup
cup, or parting drink, to those about to set off on their travels.

As an occasional foxhunter and frequent rider, I can attest that the small
shot of alcohol takes enough of the edge off of nerves to forge forward with
what might be an intimidating or challenging ride. It dulls the very first
reactions to a daunting task, fear and anxiety. I personally am an advocate
of the stirrup cup. IÂ'm a much better rider when I drink.



I have just returned from travel and have now fully embraced the grand
tradition of the stirrup cup in all above context. This might initially
translate to Americans as having returned from Europe as an alcoholic.
Perhaps true, I hope to justify the problem or at the very least invite
others to appreciate a truly valuable custom.



Travel to foreign countries can be intimidating, especially with family,
which can be daunting and especially to Americans, who can beÂ…well,
American. Different languages, currency, customs, modes of transportation,
time changes, jetlag, and the ever-present fear of being recognized as a
tourist, can lead to crippling fear and anxiety. This, in turn can cause
one to completely miss the joy of travel and ruin a trip, or even a
marriage. Some cases can be severe and downright Continental, resulting in
phrases heard over the relaxed din of local chatter like, Â"How could you
forget the tickets, Margaret?Â" followed by, Â"I remembered your shaving cream
when I stayed up all night packing while you snored in the living room in
front of the TV, didnÂ't I George?Â" Â"ItÂ's not my faultÂ" Â"I said one bag per
person, not three, you figure out how to get to the next train in four
minutes,Â" and my personal favorite, Â"Holy crap, whatÂ's that in dollars!?Â"



Luckily, over thousands of years the Europeans have developed a very healthy
appreciation for alcohol and have incorporated it into their daily lives.
It is available, without judgment, at all hours of the day and from even the
most unlikely places. The Germans serve beer at breakfast. The French
serve Champagne and brandy in their coffee at all hours of the day. It is
major part of every communityÂ's agricultural production and the majority of
it is consumed locally. It is pervasive in all lands, permeating delicately
through all levels of a culture.



It took me about four days to lose the ingrained inhibition and have a glass
of wine at lunch. After the perfect attitude adjustment (one glass, unless
in Italy), I was able to slip into that European plane that exists alongside
ours and enjoy the ride. My liquid courage gave me rosé colored glasses.
My husband even started insisting I have a stirrup cup each day somewhere
around 11am. It was the key to unlocking sincere enjoyment of two weeks of
travel through six countries, translating five languages, utilizing four
modes of travel, with three family members.



This knowledge is my personal gift to all would-be frustrated American
travelers.



My toast and wish to you is, Â"May you lead a life that requires many stirrup
cups.Â"



PROST!

R