“No… well, I mean, I know.” To my great surprise, I saw that she had tears in her eyes. I know Isobel as a cheerful, sensible businesswoman, one of the best horsewomen I know (and I know a great many, on this continent and beyond). Nothing phases her.
Seeing her on the verge of tears was unimaginable and I was momentarily lost for words. “I just wanted to thank you again for coming.” she says.
“With COVID-19, times have been difficult. It’s not like horses stop eating, or don’t need vets, or don’t need the blacksmith once in a while, just because travel restrictions are in place and no tourists are here. Feed has gone up in price, shoeing too and no customers have come. When I found this five euro note, I kept it in case I really come to a time again when I have nothing in my bank balance. At least I get to buy bread for my children for the next day. So thank you for coming. I am so glad that you have never stopped traveling, even in all the restrictions, and that you have come to ride with me again.”
I didn’t know what to say. Riding with her is a real highlight of every visit to the area, but it had stupidly never occurred to me how tight for money she must have been with so few customers, or how valuable my custom was.
She told me how, to save on farrier bills, she has taught herself to trim her horses’ feet and changes her routes so that they only need to take the soft sand paths through the dunes. “It’s sixty-five euros per horse per eight weeks now,” she added. “I have seven horses. It settles very quickly. This way I keep my feet trimmed myself, and neither of them needs shoes.” She was cheerful again. I reached out to stroke the beautiful white mare that had just taken me through the dunes, an easy adventure of walking and talking combined with wild gallops down the narrow, winding paths, which suddenly appeared at a furious speed up the cliff tops, with the turquoise Atlantic below. We had talked about horses and our respective children, and we came back a little dizzy from the gallop and the ozone-rich air.
I had visited a few months before and I remembered when this horse was new. Almost all of Isobel’s horses are rescue horses. When she arrived, this mare was afraid of her own shadow. If you raised a hand in her direction, she recoiled fearfully, expecting a blow. Now, calmly munching on her food, she turned to me contentedly and rested her head briefly on my shoulder. I reached into my pocket for the cash I had put there, to pay for the trip I had just taken. I had slipped in a little extra, but still it didn’t feel quite right, paying Isobel in euros. Someone whose work and skills I respected so much should be paid in – well, better money. I handed it to her and she took it with a smile and more thanks.
I weighed my options carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. I knew that if I offered her financial help, she would not accept it, even be offended, and that it could sour a friendship that even in the very first days I recognized as a valuable one. I quickly thought through the pros and cons and then took the plunge. “Remember how I told you about Bitcoin, Isobel?” I asked her. She nodded. “Well, maybe you’d like some time later in the week so I can explain it more? I think it can be a good way for you to be able to plan for the future.”
My kids love a good swimming pool. I had arranged for the villa I had rented for our trip to have one and a couple of days later I was lying next to it watching them dive in, get out and dive back in again. Half my attention was on my book, which I wish I could tell you was heavy on Bitcoin, but was actually an engaging novel about a penguin and mafia intrigue. I heard a bicycle on the gravel of the driveway and looked up to see Isobel peering quizzically around the hedge. “Do you have time now?” she asked. “I brought my laptop with me.”
We had talked a bit about Bitcoin before. She knew I was interested in it and was happy to talk about it. She also knew that I didn’t want to give her financial advice about her personal situation, but that I had made it very clear that if she had any questions, I would be more than happy to help. The real key to a successful orange pill, a good friend once told me, is to arouse curiosity. And let’s face it, most people come for the financial gains. Some people even stay for the gains, even when they have seen the revolution. Knowing Isobel’s financial situation, I started with the winnings. I showed her a chart of Bitcoin’s price performance over the years, and I explained how, although there are often dips, the dips have never gone to zero. I repeated the well-known mantra: “No one who has invested in Bitcoin for four years and not sold has ever lost money.” I roughly sketched it out and showed her why not.
“But what is Bitcoin?” was her eminently reasonable question. I explained, as briefly as I could, how Bitcoin is a digital currency, whose ledger is maintained on the blockchain. I watched as the penny dropped as she began to realize the implications of property, which is absolute. I compared that of the field where her two beautiful Lusitano stallions were no doubt at that moment chewing happily through the dry summer grass, a field whose deed had at some point in the mists of time been recorded by a villager, now long dead. Ownership of the field and grazing rights was the cause of some contention for her and some government intervention by the council. We discussed inflation, which she saw in her life in the rising costs of the blacksmith and the fodder with which she supplemented the dry grass. I explained, as briefly as I could, how Bitcoin is decentralized and how crucial it is in determining its value. She had never heard of any altcoins (“I think I once heard Elon talk about some kind of currency that I don’t think was Bitcoin, but the man is a crazy job anyway,” she said) I repeated that Bitcoin is just truly decentralized currency as a preventive measure.
Then I asked her why she had the laptop with her. She told me she was curious. She had very little money to spare, she said, but she had seen how convinced I was in our first conversation. What she had heard during our conversation that day had helped her make up her mind. She wanted to buy for a few euros.
I set her up with an encrypted email, a password manager, and a wallet. Then we made our deal. I told her that I would pay for my daughter and I to go to the beach with her. I would send her the euro amount in Bitcoin. We would wait to take that trip for bitcoin to double in value. It is an agreement that still stands between us. It was in May 2021, when one Bitcoin was $44,000. We still often ride together, but we are still waiting for Bitcoin to reach $88,000. That will be an all-time high to remember.
After I set her up and explained what an orange pill was, I thought she would be well and truly done talking about Bitcoin. Instead, she lay back in her chair. “Where Did Bitcoin Come From?” she asked. I put on a fresh pot of coffee.
This is a guest post by Holly Young. Opinions expressed are entirely their own and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of BTC Inc Bitcoin Magazine.
