08/29/2026
Monte Velho: Horses, Friendship and a Little Piece of Heaven
2026 has been a year of contrasts—some serious personal situations combined with some of the highest highs of my travel life.
Monte Velho came to my attention when I was exploring Portugal. I had visited Portugal in 2022 and really enjoyed it—the people, the countryside, the vibe. Now it was time to combine Portugal with something else I love: horses.
And not just any horses.
Lusitanos—the quintessential horse of Portugal.
The Portuguese are enormously proud of this breed, and they have every reason to be. The Lusitano is known for its intelligence, sensitivity, agility and natural ability for collection. Historically associated with classical equitation, today Lusitanos are increasingly competing at the highest levels of international dressage.
All of my previous riding holidays had involved trail riding, and I love trail riding. There is something about being outside in the open with a good horse that brings me serenity while keeping me completely focused on my equine partner.
But this time I wanted something different.
In my quest to improve my riding—and maybe, just maybe, fulfill one of my dreams of completing a successful dressage test—I was intrigued by the quality of instruction and the environment at Monte Velho.
Arriving at Monte Velho
After a few days touring beautiful Porto, I made my way seamlessly to Monte Velho with the help of the train and a wonderful driver.
As we pulled in, I immediately sensed the calmness and history of the place. I also noticed the order of a beautifully maintained working horse farm.
Yet despite that sense of history, including an old church right on the property, Monte Velho has embraced technology. Each day, you simply scan a QR code and up pops your riding schedule, lesson times and other activities for the day.
I met the rest of the group over lunch, and afterward we headed out for our first introduction to the horses—not the riding horses, but the mamas and babies.
This was one of those wonderful horse moments you can't manufacture.
The foals were so accustomed to people that they simply swirled around us, curious and playful, while their mothers remained nearby. One of the Monte Velho family members walked us through the breeding program and introduced us to some of the characteristics that make the Lusitano so special.
It was my first glimpse into something I would understand more deeply as the week progressed: Monte Velho isn't simply a place where guests come to ride Lusitanos.
They breed them. Raise them. Train them. Compete them.
They know their horses.
And they care about them.
Hello, Imposter Syndrome
The first morning of riding dawned, and a fleeting thought crept into my head.
My riding had stalled a bit this year, and here I was at this beautiful facility surrounded by high-level dressage horses.
Hello, imposter syndrome.
But then another thought took its place.
No. Here I am.
My first horse was Benny.
Love at first sight.
I always look at the eyes first—in horses and in people—and Benny had kind eyes. Big, chocolate-colored eyes. He wasn't super tall, and he stood quietly watching everything around him with the gaze of an experienced schoolmaster.
What a fantastic choice for me.
My first instructor was Bernardo, who was patient, kind and encouraging.
I wasn't even sure we were going to canter during that first lesson.
But under Bernardo's instruction—and with Benny's experience beneath me—I completed something I had never done before.
A flying change.
For my non-horse readers, a flying change is when a horse changes its canter lead without breaking gait. Horse and rider have to be balanced, coordinated and communicating. At the upper levels of dressage, accomplished horses can perform sequences of these changes every few strides or even every stride.
Benny's transitions felt like a hot knife through butter.
Effortless.
Wow, what a horse.
And when we nailed our second flying change, apparently I forgot that dressage is supposed to be dignified.
I exclaimed so loudly—in full Brooklyn fashion—that I accidentally spooked the other horse in the arena.
Oops.
Should I have done that? Probably not.
But really, is riding supposed to have no emotion?
I had just ridden my first flying change on a beautiful Lusitano in Portugal.
I was excited.
Learning to Look in the Mirror
Bernardo was my first instructor, but subsequently I rode with Guilherme and Teresa. Each lesson gave me valuable takeaways, and I genuinely enjoyed learning from all three.
And there was that enormous mirror in the arena.
By my final lesson, I didn't shy away from looking into it.
Instead, I looked.
I wanted to see what the instructors saw. I wanted to see my position. I wanted to improve.
That may sound like a small thing.
It wasn't.
I had arrived questioning whether my riding belonged in this environment. By the end, I wanted to look.
All the while, I was sitting on horses that quite literally seemed to float beneath me.
From Monte Velho to the Olympics
The quality of these horses isn't accidental.
Monte Velho is a family-run Lusitano breeding operation as well as an equestrian resort, and one of the horses bred here went all the way to the Olympic Games.
Equador MVL was bred at Monte Velho. João Torrão came to Monte Velho as a young intern and began working with Equador when the stallion was five years old. Together they progressed through the levels of dressage and eventually represented Portugal at the Tokyo Olympic Games.
Think about that.
You can sit at breakfast, walk over to the stables and watch horses being trained on the same farm that produced an Olympic horse-and-rider partnership.
But what impressed me wasn't simply the accomplishment.
It was the horsemanship surrounding it.
Throughout my stay, I saw kindness toward the horses, excellent tack, attention to safety, professionalism and respect for the animal.
During our introduction to the breeding program, I also learned that Monte Velho no longer brands its horses. It was one of several things I learned during the week that reinforced my impression of a farm that respects its traditions while continuing to think about the welfare of its horses.
There were also opportunities simply to sit and watch the horses being trained.
For a horse person, that can be an activity all by itself.
Cue the Big Gray
But Monte Velho isn't all work and no play.
Cue the big gray I called Don.
Don was my trail-riding buddy.
He was a big boy—beautiful, bold and playful—and I loved riding him.
We headed out on the trail, all of us mounted on beautiful horses on a picture-perfect summer day in Portugal.
And suddenly I was nine years old again.
I was the kid who devoured the entire Black Stallion series and begged my parents to take me riding. And now, decades later, here I was riding through the Portuguese countryside on a Lusitano.
This was the stuff my nine-year-old dreams were made of.
We walked and trotted and had some lovely stretches of canter.
We even took the horses into the lake.
Somewhere out there, I found myself thinking again about something that still boggles my mind after all these years around horses: how incredibly strong they are and yet how willing they are to carry us—and sometimes let us fly with them.
Life Beyond the Saddle
Riding may be at the center of Monte Velho, but it doesn't consume every minute.
There was time to breathe.
There was a beautiful pool and hot tub. Massages were available—which starts sounding increasingly attractive after several serious riding lessons. There was w**e tasting, opportunities to watch training, a small shop and music on some evenings.
There was great food.
There was Portuguese w**e.
And there was Carmelo, the goofy resident dog, who apparently decided that closed doors were merely suggestions.
More on him in a moment.
Friendship Around the Table
Another thing I discovered at Monte Velho was friendship—friendship formed through a shared love of horses, great food, a sense of adventure and respect for the craft of riding.
Every morning, afternoon and evening, we would hear the bell ring and gather around a long, beautiful table.
We talked about our lessons. Our favorite horses. Our adventures. Our lives back home.
There was w**e, delicious food and a wonderful sense of camaraderie.
People who had been strangers only days before suddenly had a lot to talk about.
Maybe that's because horse people already share a language.
Bring Tissues
Make no mistake:
Monte Velho can bring out emotions. Strong ones.
Bring tissues.
I'm serious.
But that's what horses can do for—and sometimes to—people.
They heal us.
They change us.
They humble us.
They lift us.
It's sometimes difficult to convey that feeling to a non-rider. But when I look into a horse's eyes, or simply exist quietly beside one, I can feel peace wash over me.
Maybe it's accomplishing something you didn't think you could do.
Maybe it's frustration or vulnerability.
Maybe it's the trust required to communicate with an animal powerful enough to carry you across an open field but sensitive enough to respond to the smallest change in your body.
Whatever it is, horses have a way of finding it.
A Little Piece of Heaven
One afternoon, I simply sat and watched the horses in the field and the rhythm of the stable around me.
I wasn't riding.
I wasn't touring.
I wasn't doing anything that needed to be checked off an itinerary.
I just sat.
The horses. The people. The kindness. The professionalism. The quiet rhythm of a life centered around these animals.
My time at Monte Velho felt precious.
Yes, even when Carmelo pushed open my room door and scared the hell out of me.
And despite those anxious thoughts that sometimes have a way of creeping in, I remember sitting there and thinking:
This is a little piece of heaven for me.
Maybe some part of me was that nine-year-old girl again—the one buried in The Black Stallion, begging her parents to let her ride.
Except now she was in Portugal.
She had ridden Lusitanos.
She had cantered across the countryside.
She had ridden a flying change.
She had looked into that giant arena mirror instead of away from it.
And after all these years around horses, she was still learning from them.
There is a beautiful saying about horsemanship in Portuguese:
“A arte da equitação é a perfeita união de duas almas e um só pensamento.”
The art of riding is the perfect union of two souls and one thought.
After Monte Velho, I think I understand that a little better.
