Translated by Sarolta Schütz

I’ve already bought the plane ticket to Ireland, when just the day before leaving, the job was cancelled as they employed someone else instead of me. Still, as the man probably had a bit of remorse, he called me again a bit later and gave us a phone number saying : ’Don’t worry, they will surely employ you’. So we called my future boss Gerry. His first question was how old I was. When he heard that I’m 46, he immediately let us know that he did not need a night guard. He suggested to try with some security company, as they always look for 1-2 ’ballax’. (We tried to find this word in the dictionary with no success, later I realized it is the unofficial name of male genitals). My daughter Lilla spoke English quite well,so she used all her knowledge and took serious efforts to persuade Gerry about the fact that I have already seen horses …. So finally he agreed to my going there for a one week trial period. But – he said – if I do not fit the requirements, I can go wherever I want but cannot stay.So we agreed.

Honestly speaking, when I arrived in the land of fairies, I did not feel very elated, as I was standing there in a foreign country, not speaking a word of English while Irish people did not speak a word of German. Still- miraculously- I managed to get to Behrings. The ’conscription’ committee was already waiting for me with a huge grin. Well, I thought, Gerry had probably told them about the ’ballax’. Everybody smiled at me with compassion. I did not understand why – I did not know I was just enlisted in Gerry’s foreign legion. More exactly, I got a temporary post in the Czeh battalion. I would not say I had any bad impression in the first moments. Eg. the Czeh immediately told me not to worry, as all the ’worms’ will be ridden by them. The next thing that struck me was the greeting. I haven’t met many Irishmen yet, but the few who passed by all greeted me politely, almost friendly inquiring after my health. As a complete stranger, I was unaccustomed to it. I am sure that in my country, the Mentalhigienic Service would have been called. (I suppose it has such a nice name to make the poor guy feel honoured when being taken to the bughouse.)

My accomodation was a nice, roomy apartman (2m x 2m). I was thinking of how I could take good use of so much space….. From the window, there was excellent view to the water. I mean, the bathroom was added to the house from the side of the window, so when I - daydreamingly - looked out of the window, I could see the closet bowl. Whenever somebody finished there, I also had to let some fresh air in, but fresh air never did any harm to anyone…. I also have to mention the kitchen – the builder did not care much about levelling. There could have been a traffic sign at the door, saying 15% slope. We felt the disadvantage when cooking soup – we used a 20 liter pot for cooking 5 liter soup, as it was impossible to fill up the pot.

The next day, the boss- full of doubts - gave me the calmest horse of the stable. He kept his phone ready in case he should call the ambulance. My trial period started. As the days passed, the horses I got were harder and harder. After the one week, Gerry told me nothing. Instead, he said we would do jumping. Hearing that, the brave warriors around looked worried. I could talk to the Czeh in German so I asked them about jumping. They only raised their eyebrows, took a deep breath, then with a sudden sigh they answered: ’You will see.’ As they did not look uncloudedly happy, I had some ’stage fright’. It was strenghthened by such strange things like eg. when someone fell off a horse, the first and most important thing was to check whether the horse is ok. If the vet was not needed, they asked how the jockey was. If the vet had to be called, the jockey could only count on his own surviving ability. Once, when a horse kicked Stephen and he shouted like a wolf, it took half an hour to decide, whether the ambulance should be called or not. I had the feeling as if they were pondering whether to take him to hospital or start the operation right there. As it was an extreme case, they finally called the ambulance. In my country, we would have called a rescue helicopter.

There was an appr. 15m x 30 m pen next to the stable, all the important happenings took place there. On that very morning, it was already prepared. There was a obstacle made of blue barrels on the other side. The tension in the air and the barrels showed that this day will be different from the others. There were altogether 7-8 cavalrymen, preparing with ’wrinkled’ eyebrows. It was written on their face that ’a man’s job’ is going to be done. If someone works with racehorses, he has to be prepared for difficulties, but Gerry was a bigger master of increasing the tension than Steven Spielberg …..though one would have enjoyed it in the cinema more. The horses also suspected something because when they saw the site and should have gone into the arena, they spinned back, so quickly that it was hard to follow with the eye. What’s more, it all happened on the concrete in front of the pen, 8 horses on appr. 20 square meter. It has not begun yet, but the sparkling concrete and the smell of sulfurous lightning created the proper atmosphere. Some horses seemed to need help – they did not have to wait long, Gerry turned up with a whip. He solved with one slash, what would have taken Spielberg a week to find out – the horses started to jump into the pen in panic, then, after 1 gallop stride,turned back. This resulted that the first ones crashed the others coming after them. One had to be a good stuntman to survive, though jumping has not started yet. I started to understand the previous day’s worries. I took a deep breath and - in mind – tied up my pants. Meanwhile I breathed a prayer. It is said, there are no ateists on a falling plane. Whoever said this, did not know that one can get this experience at Gerry’s stable without paying the high price of a plane ticket. So those seeking to get spritual experience, should only have got to the stable in Behring for the secret doctrines. Only the initiated knew that, but I did not feel happy to belong to the ’happy’ few. When all the horses stepped on the stage, it became obvious that there won’t be enough room for all the participants. As the horses were not schooled high level to enable us to take short turns and slow down after the jump, I could not imagine how we would do the jumping. I did not have to wait long to see. Following Gerry’s instructions, the first rider started to gallop towards the barrels. But even before turning to the right direction, the horse spinned around and before anyone could have done anything, it rushed into the crowd seeking for safety. As for safety, jockeys had a different opinion …. The next try was much ’better’ – Gerry came to help with the whip from behind. The sound of the whip resulted all the horses to run to the opposite direction in panic, so they trampled down the arriving ’brave warrior’. The assistants – though suffering some losses -  managed to catch the horse running free in about 15 minutes, and the ’gladior’ could continue his struggle.Then , -thanks to Gerry’s irreplaceable assistance – 2 more warriors fell into the dust. The horses running and kicking free immidiately lifted the mood, though it wasn’t boring before either. One had to have a strong surviving instinct together with a refined 6th sense to stay on horseback. Well, to cut a long story short, I just wanted to say that I managed, and a few days later I became a contracted soldier in Gerry’s army. Even later Gerry decided to retire from ’film directing’ and leave the jumping thing on me. I have to admit, compared to him I was a real bore. After this period, there was a long time while I thought Ireland is full of ’film directors’ dealing with horses. Later on I realized Gerry had special talent in this matter. Thereby, the story written above is a curiosity of my life, it cannot be experienced simply by anyone, anywhere. I can feel like I am a ’chosen’ one.