My First 3-day Event in Ireland...Or how NOT to keep a low profile.

It feels like a lot has happened since the last time I wrote a blog. The good news is I am still in Ireland, I still work for Carol, and I still seem to be making a fool of myself on a regular basis…which means plenty to entertain you with!

Two weeks ago I headed off to Ballindenisk to compete in the CIC** on Primus. Fraser was riding a few of Carol’s horses in the 3-day as well so we all loaded up in the Fernhill truck for a week of fun and sun. Oh wait, I mean rain. Now, Ballindenisk is like the Fair Hill of Ireland. Everyone has been there a million times. Even though they knew I was American, people couldn’t believe I had never been here before.

Me: “I only arrived a couple weeks ago”

The Irish: “Yes but surely you have jumped this road crossing before. Everybody has jumped it. It has been here forever.”

Me: “Well, I have never been here before”

The Irish: “Hmm, I have never known anyone who has never been to Ballindenisk”

My plan was to just fade into the routine of the International event, a routine I know well. I was going to just keep a low profile, maybe make some new friends, but absolutely NOT don my metaphorical “Scarlet letter” that brands me as the new American rider that doesn’t quite seem to ever know what is going on.

And then I decided to just do me instead.

My dressage test was so disastrous that in retrospect, it can only be seen as comedic. I was unable to bring my top hat with me to Ireland because of limited packing space. I decided to borrow one from Carol because she has quite a few.

(Note: When I made this decision I knew that it might be problematic because for some obscure reason I have never been able to find a top hat that sits properly on my head. They all fall off.  If anyone has any suggestions on how to solve this problem please let me know. I have thought of everything obvious to try to keep it on…padding, sticky tape, sticky spray, pins. I am one FEI event away from using a chinstrap, and nobody wants to see that.)

Anyways, back to my story. I was the first competitor in the CIC in the ring. To make my long and boring warm-up story short, I entered the ring 100 percent positive my hat would fall off but I also knew it would not eliminate me so I had no other option than to be the girl who’s top-hat falls off. Well I made it about 3 feet into the arena before it flew off. I thought I would just shake it off and continue on. I halted and then tracked right. I bet you guys can guess what happened next. The bell rang and my judge informed me I was supposed to track left. I tell her ok, and then I circle around to turn left and continue on. But here is the problem…as I am turning left I am also thinking that I am completely sure that in the test I had learned you were supposed to track right. I track left anyway and begin the test cringing, absolutely positive that I had learned the wrong test. Bell rings.

Judge: “You were supposed to traverse, not shoulder-in”

Me: “Umm, I learned the wrong test”

Judge: “Are you sure you aren’t just frazzled because your hat flew-off”

Me: “Well, I am frazzled because of that but also because I definitely don’t know the test”

Judge: “I regret to inform you that you are eliminated”

As I walked out of the ring with my hairnet flopping in the wind, I really felt bad for the ring steward who had to pick up my top-hat, hand it to me, and apologize for not only losing my hat but for being ELIMINATED. I was mortified. New plan for the day: catch the first plane back to America, dig myself a hole, and live in it until horses were extinct.

As I walk out of the ring I notice that every rider who was warming up for their test is off of their horses and frantically thumbing through the test booklet. What’s going on? I realized that I was not the only one who had learned the wrong test. They had changed the test the week before and many of us were unaware of the switch. I have never been so happy to be working for Carol Gee. I explain to her what is going on and she marches up to the officials, demanding I be able to learn the test and ride again. There is a lot of discussion, hemming and hawing, threats from Carol. They say that the change was announced in the briefing. And here is where I was saved…a simple technicality… CIC competitors are not required to be at the briefing!

Well, I was given about 8 minutes to learn the new test, that I had never practiced, and go back into the ring. I sort of learned it, practiced one of the moves and marched into the arena again. This time I was wearing my tails and my hunt cap. I gave a fleeting thought to being embarrassed by my fashion faux pas but then I thought that really “faux pas” should probably be my middle name. Ok, after it was all said and done, I did have one error but I got a score of 56. I was very happy with this given the circumstances.

The fall out? Everybody at the event heard about what happened and felt so terrible for me. Great. So much for keeping a low profile. I came back to the barn and Annalena who was helping us out that week said, “When I heard what happened I almost just left the event all together” I cracked up because if that was her reaction, imagine ME.

Luckily I had a great cross-country ride and great show jumping round as well. I also met tons of very cool people. Let me tell you, these Irish know how to party at an event. They had a proper pub set up on the grounds in the basement of the barn, with a full bar and bartender. They also had a poll dancing competition? I called it a night Saturday night at 11 because I wanted to be well rested for the next day. Also because I wouldn’t be the only one scarred if I ended up on the poll that night. One of the girls came back at 2 am from the party. The next day someone said to her,

“You turned in early last night!”

My response was, “Since when is 2 am early?”

Her response: “Since the party goes until 5 am”

What?!? And these people can still ride the next day? Oh dear, if this is what it is going to take to make friends with the Irish event riders I am not going to make it.

So I am still pretty positive that Ireland is going to be the death of me. Whether it is death by embarrassment, death by horse, or death by partying cannot be determined yet. You will all be happy to know that I have been practicing my leg up and I am slowly improving. The operative word here being “slow” but let us remain positive!

My Little Irish Adventure Begins

Here I sit, typing away at my laptop from the dark corner table of a pub in the city of Kilkenny, Ireland, minutes away from my new home at Fernhill Sport Horse Centre. If you are surprised or a bit confused, don’t worry, you haven’t missed much… Let me catch you up. I first came to Ireland about two months ago to look for a new horse. Phillip Dutton connected me with Carol Gee, the owner of Fernhill Sport Horses. We really hit it off and she offered me the opportunity to move to Ireland and ride horses for her. Once I got back home, I gave the idea some thought (for about 30 seconds) and then started packing up my bags! With the support and a fabulous send off from everybody, I flew to Ireland about 2 weeks ago.

At the arrivals gate at the airport, I kept repeating in my head, “Do not go to the right side of the car. Passengers ride on the left. Do not go…” So of course, I tried to climb into the driver’s side door at the airport. It was at this point I knew that no matter how prepared I was for working on a farm, I was going to make an idiot out of myself on a regular basis. And I can tell you I was right. For example, apparently in Ireland they don’t get on the horse by putting your foot in the stirrup and climbing on from the ground. They either get a leg up or they do this scary, strange leap. This ‘leap’ involves a superhuman ability to jump and extreme upper body strength… two things I am seriously lacking. Now you might be thinking, why is this a problem, she can just get a leg up right? Wrong. I am not sure where I go wrong in my technique but when someone gives me a leg up, they get me about a foot off the ground and I awkwardly flop my stomach about halfway up the saddle. Go ahead. Take a moment and create a visual image of this. So here I am in Ireland, considering myself well prepared for this job after years of working in barns, and I am unable to get on the horses. How do you say embarrassing in Irish?

Lucky for me, Carol did not send me home straight away after this evident failure. Instead, we headed off the day after I arrived to Millstreet, a jumper show where we would be scouting for new horses. There was also a 4 and 5-year-old Event Horse Class that I was to compete in the first day. Terrifying! Let me break it down for you: I had no idea what I was doing; I had never ridden the horse before; the horse had also never done an event before; and I was feeling good for just being able to get on the horse… The horse was fabulous though and despite being a little bit damp (oh yes, it rained) it was a great first competition in Ireland.

For the next couple of days we watched the classes and tried dozens of horses. It was at this point that my inability to get a leg up really hit home. I would awkwardly apologize in advance to each guy that had to literally lift me on to his horse. Add to that my other major handicap here, my inability to understand anyone, and you can imagine that all of these gentlemen probably thought I was a bit short of a full box.... Now, I have always had trouble deciphering people with accents. But these Irishmen not only speak with a thick brogue but they also mumble. Seriously, they barely open their mouths. I stare at them while they talk to me and think, “come on Lillian, try this time to understand”. My most often used word up to this point in this country is, “pardon?”

After a very fun week at Millstreet, we headed back to Carol’s yard (that’s “farm” for all you Yanks) to begin riding and training and getting into the routine. I have about 8 horses that I am in charge of training every day and competing when the occasion arises with the ultimate goal of selling. Days are filled with riding, grooming, and showing horses to clients. The horses I have been assigned are all top quality so even though I will probably only ride them for a short while (if I do my job right), it is a pleasure training them now. I will be able to go to my first real event in Ireland soon and I am looking forward to a whole new environment that I don’t know anything about!

There isn’t as much to report about my “non-horse” life. I have not stopped since I jumped into the car at the airport thanks in large part to the whirlwind of energy that is Carol Gee. I have ventured into town only a few times so far. Driving on the wrong side of the road, in a manual car, when I don’t know where I am going proves challenging but I am sure I will figure it out soon enough. I guess its just another example of something else I can’t do in this country that I could do at home!

That’s all for now, I will keep everyone updated on my seemingly slow assimilation to Irish culture. Maybe next week I will be able to get on the horses I am supposed to ride…

All of my worldly possessions...

in two little bags. (okay, huge.)

Ireland didn't know what was coming!