The Diary Game 27/10/2025 – An afternoon of calm and canter at La Kaizen Riding Club

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Hello, Steemit!

It was one of those Tunisian autumn afternoons when the sun is soft but steady and the breeze has just enough intention to carry the scent of hay and saddle soap across an open field, so I pointed myself toward La Kaizen Riding Club with the kind of expectation that feels both childlike and precise, childlike because horses make time slow down and eyes go wide, precise because the sound of hooves on packed sand is a rhythm that asks you to listen and breathe in long measures, which is exactly what I hoped to do after a week that moved too quickly for its own good.

_{Entrance gate to La Kaizen, sun on the arch and a faint smell of alfalfa telling you you are in the right place.}

The lane into the club is flanked by tamarisk and young olive, and as I walked past the first paddock I noticed how the light collected on the horses coats like warm water, highlighting the deep bays and cheerful chestnuts while the greys looked almost blue where the shade stretched across their backs, and I found myself slowing just to watch ears flick and tails swish as if the entire stable were conducting a quiet conversation about when the next feed would arrive and whether those clouds meant anything at all.

_{Quiet paddock manners, a curious bay checking whether I brought a carrot or just compliments.}

A groom walked by with a bridle neatly looped over one forearm, and he returned my greeting with that compact nod horse people use when hands are busy and timing matters, which is to say often, and I stood a moment at the arena rail where the footing looked recently harrowed, the surface firm but forgiving, and even before a hoof touched it I could imagine how the ground would give slightly then return energy, inviting confident transitions and tidy circles that make both rider and horse feel competent, if not downright proud, on a plain Tuesday.

_{School arena just after a harrow pass, footing like velvet and hoofprints that read like calligraphy.}

I watched a lesson begin with the kind of patience that good teaching always models, the instructor s voice carrying in calm phrases that were long enough to explain and short enough to use, while the rider, a teenager with a quiet seat and an honest grin, guided a sturdy mare down the long side in a working trot that could have sold tickets, the diagonal pairs tapping out a gentle metronome that made even the sparrows on the fence line pause their commentary, and when the pair asked for canter, the mare lifted into it without tension, like a paragraph that finally found its verb, and the whole arena seemed to exhale.

_{That first canter stride, energy forward, frame soft, and a smile you can hear even from the rail.}

After a while I wandered toward the stables where the air was warmer and richer, a layered perfume of hay, leather, oats, and the dry sweetness of clean straw, and I fell into conversation with another visitor who told me she comes here whenever the city feels loud, because watching horses do ordinary horse things, drinking, dozing, nudging a neighbor through the bars, reminds her that steady rhythms still exist, that attention can be gentle rather than frantic, and that kindness often looks like a curry comb and five extra minutes before tacking up.

_{Between the boxes, tidy aisles, quiet ears, and the glow only oiled leather can manage.}

I took my turn with a stable tour led by a staff member who clearly loved the place in the practical way that shows up as swept floors, labeled gear, and water buckets that are always exactly as full as they should be, and while we walked he explained how the club spaces lessons through the day to keep the arena calm, how they match beginners to steady horses that forgive small mistakes while rewarding soft hands, and how the late afternoon light is their favorite because the sky leans gold and the arena becomes a stage where progress writes itself in small repeatable steps.

_{Meet Kaizen spirit, a bright eyed mare with a forelock that refuses to follow rules yet obeys leg and voice with grace.}

There is a corner near the coffee stand where the breeze collects and the view opens to the far paddocks, and I sat there with a paper cup that tasted like modest chocolate and a cinnamon idea, watching as a child in half chaps took her first honest loop off the lunge line, the instructor s hands low and relaxed, the parent clapping with discretion, and the pony, small and saintly, carrying a future of weekend mornings and new vocabulary, inside leg, outside rein, half halt, into the kind of memory that will survive phone upgrades and school timetables.

_{Break time with a view, steam from the cup, sun on the rail, and hoofbeats somewhere just out of frame.}

Before leaving, I walked one last circuit past the turnout where two geldings argued politely about a patch of clover, and I realized what makes La Kaizen feel special is not only the tidy arenas or the polite signage or the well fitted tack, but a culture of patient attention that extends from staff to riders to horses and back again, a loop of care that, if you let it, slows your own breathing until the world feels navigable, and you remember that forward is a choice best made with balance, rhythm, and a soft contact.

_{Parting glance across the rail, sun lowering, shadows lengthening, and tomorrow s rides already forming in the mind.}

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Where we are

Field	Details
Place	La Kaizen Riding Club
Address	Cabalet Ben Amar, Route de Jabbes, 2032
Coordinates	36.9092427, 10.0984578
Map	Open in Google Maps
Hours	Daily 9 AM–8 PM
Tel	+216 99 331 192
Price (TND)	20–30 which is about 60–90 STEEM at 1 TND ≈ 3 STEEM
Plus Code	W463+VG Sidi Thabet
SteemAtlas	//:# (!steematlas 36.9092427 lat 10.0984578 long d3scr)

Thank you for sharing this ride along, may your week keep a steady rhythm, may your circles stay round, and may every transition be a little softer than the one before.

Best Regards,
@kouba01