I came to Europe to work and ride and I knew I would be very busy. I get the feeling that friends back home imagine me on vacation, traveling around Europe and snapping photos of cathedrals and interesting greenery. While being a tourist is fun in many ways, the experience I’m having is just as exciting, and more unique.
Ludo Philippaerts’ barn is located in a nondescript part of Belgium, tucked in a small town near the border of Holland. Yet living there is a lesson in geography; half a dozen countries are represented in his staff alone, and clients regularly travel from all over the world to see his horses. And they come for good reason. His horses are gorgeous, fun to ride and smart. Being let loose to ride them every day is a bit of a dream come true for me. The acres (excuse me, hectares) of “forest” that surround Ludo’s property are prime for long, beautiful rides. Wide trails and soft ground do wonders for the horses’ physical and mental health, and whether I’m following orders or riding according to my own schedule, I always enjoy the peace of those rides.
Lost in Translation
Of course, “geography” does have its small drawbacks. I do a double take when Sandy, my French co-worker, tells me to take a stunning black stallion named Algameth to the forest for a “gallop.” Lord of the Rings-esque scenes flash through my head; the scenery will fly by as I urge the horse to run flat out while I crouch low on his neck. It sounds like fun but since we’re riding expensive jumpers, not racehorses, I’m sure that Sandy doesn’t mean for me to actually gallop, and so I fight through her limited English and my nonexistent French and mime gallop versus canter to clarify. Unamused, she sucks on a cigarette and stares at me, probably laughing on the inside while I struggle. Eventually I figure out that the French word for canter is “galop,” sounding exactly like the English word “gallop.” I’m a little relieved, as I don’t want to risk injuring the beautiful horseflesh that I’ve been entrusted with. However nothing, lest of all being limited to the canter, can make the experience any less tantalizing. It’s October, the fall colors are out in force, and it’s not lost on me that I’m cantering a black stallion through a beautiful forest in Belgium.
Wide-Eyed and Open Mouthed
Real life dream sequences aside, I am interested to see a legitimate European horse show and discover if all I’ve heard about horse sport in Europe is true. I have already been thrilled to switch on the television and see coverage of eventing competitions on the “Eurosport” channel, and it’s impossible not to notice Ludo’s many big sponsors, whose logos adorn everything from his lorry to his helmet. Conveniently, the Audi Equestrian Masters is held nearby in Brussels just one week after I arrive in Belgium. This show is on the roster of the Global Champions Tour, and every rock star rider I idolize will be there.
I arrange for a day off and coordinate with the other riders to borrow the barn’s tiny green VW Golf for transportation. Armed with written directions and not much else, I set off on an optimistic solo mission. However, no one told me that Brussels is a French speaking city, street signs are inconsistent, and European cities are designed in confusing circles, not blocks. Thus, the journey to the show is an adventure unto itself for this naïve American, and my supposed one hour drive turns into four hours of being hopelessly lost in Brussels. I try to look on the bright side, later telling my father how I toured around the entire city of Brussels in one day. I take a photo of a WWII era building from my car window as proof of my tourism.
The show, when I reach it, is more than worth the journey. I am awestruck from the first minute I walk into the glass roofed hall that the entire show is held under. I’m instantly swallowed by the crowd of spectators that crowd the red carpet which coats the place. There is only one show ring, and one warm-up ring, both of which are set and lit as if on a stage. The warm-up ring is the centerpiece of two rows of vendors and bordered by a swanky looking bar at one end. Spectators and competitors alike are dressed to the nines, and naiveté strikes for the second time in a day as I realize how underdressed I am in my barn jacket and jeans. It’s hard to know what to look at first; the vendors that appear to be miniature versions of designer shops, the stage-like ring or the riders. The warm-up ring is crowded with riders I’ve only ever read about. In one breath Marcus Ehning, Christian Ahlmamn, and a couple of riders with the last name Beerbaum ride by on gorgeous shining horses, made brighter by the floodlights trained on them. The riders, with their white breeches and proud backs, clearly know they are on parade. The atmosphere is part opera, part hockey game. Glamour and competition are so seamlessly intertwined that one becomes a part of the other. I truly am awestruck by it all.
Just as the overwhelming “European-ness” of it all threatens to overtake me, I spot a familiar logo on a saddle pad. That of Dover Saddlery beckons like a beacon in a sea of unfamiliar languages, and I instantly recognize American rider Peter Wylde in the saddle. I’ve followed Peter’s career for years and have always admired him as a rider. He is based in Europe and is often the only American on the roster at the indoor shows in Europe. After the day I’ve had seeing a fellow American is a welcome relief, and I’m determined to introduce myself. Little did I know that it would lead to a whole new beginning. . .
Erin Gilmore can be reached at callierin@aol.com.
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