I paid and I went back to the bleachers to see the race. “It’s only 5 Euros”, I said to myself, feeling a bit guilty to actively participate in an event that doesn’t really express me and taking part in that gambling culture that I surely don’t support. However, even if I only bet such a small amount, it was enough to bring me some enthusiasm for the rest of the day. And a bit of understanding about the reason the spectators of the event were that passionate about the “show”: money and alcohol. 

Neither of the above made me come to the horse races, taking place in the “Horse Course” in Ballinrobe today. I joined because of the company and due to my need to escape from the “job- home” loop that life in a small village -with not many things to offer- had created. “Let’s do something different. Let’s go to the horse races”, said Cinthia, a Paraguayan- Spanish colleague and friend of mine 3 hours ago. We had just finished from a training at job and my boyfriend and I were making some casual plans for the evening: to have dinner in one of the three restaurants that can be found in Ballinrobe. However, Cinthia’s proposal quickly made us to change our plans and attend an event we had never been at before, aiming to spice up our everyday life in the small, Irish village. Ismaele, another Spanish friend, colleague and neighbor of ours decided to join us as well. The tickets for the race were- complimentary- provided by the hotel we are all working for and transfer was easily organized, since Ismaele had a car. After a four-minute drive, we reached our destination.

The previous time I was here was 5 months ago. It was January 11^th and my 5^th day in Ireland, my 4^th day in Ballinrobe, my 2^nd day at work and my first hotel- Christmas party. It was such a weird party. It was winter, it was storming outside, we were still living in that house in the middle of nowhere and mostly, we were still heavily connected to the Greek culture and our lives in Greece, being unable to appreciate anything different from what we were used to. I believe that the party was 80’s inspired, or at least that was the sensation given, since the songs playing were bringing us back to the “Decade of Greed”, same as the well- dressed people and their clothing options. An orchestra was located on the left corner of the spacious building, sharing with us these 80’s vibes, while some bartenders were supplying us with alcohol, selling draft and bottle beers, cocktails and other type of drinks.  

Today the place and the prevailing atmosphere have nothing to do with what I had in mind. The only similarities I can discern are the large amount of alcohol and the dressed-up people.  It’s now May and we are going thought the second sunny week in county Mayo. The sun is strong, the temperature is high, the building is bright and packed with people of all ages. The outside area is heavily committed as well, with the horses and their riders performing within a round fence, being named by numbers, proudly showing off their skills. Actually, the horses just walk around. It’s society itself that has related their speed and power to awards and to (un)successful bets that can lead from an acquisition of a huge amount of money to fraud. From entertainment to addiction. All these bettors are now observing the horses, trying to guess which one will complete the race successfully and make them -eventually- winners as well.

– “Let’s get something to drink”, said Ismaele and we headed towards the bars, inside the building.

We got ourselves some ciders and beers and we approached the round fence. Even if my cider refreshed me a bit, I was totally lacking interest towards the event: my thoughts were on the hamburger I was keeping in my bag and on my desire to fulfill my hunger needs. And that’s what I did. Who cares a bout the race and the bets? The fact that I am finally in a lively place, full of people, experiencing something different is more than enough for me. Not to mention that it’s the first time I feel sweaty and slightly burned from the rare, Irish sun.

Cinthia and Ismaele decided to bet for the first time and they went to buy some lottery tickets. My partner and I laid down on the bleachers, noticing the crowd all around us. Some older ladies looked like they had escaped from a period film. They were elegantly dressed, wearing fascinator hats, long dresses, heels, holding some small umbrellas to protect their selves from the sun’s UV. The male gender was also following a similar dress code, with the suits, shirts and ties making their presence felt. On the other hand, quite few people had chosen a wild west look, with western boots and cowboy hats. And of course, the 21^st century club look couldn’t be absent: it was evident that some people were hoping the races would substitute a night of clubbing, in which the alcohol, the sexy clothes and the excessive makeup – as well as confidence- would break the ice and bring some new acquaintances to the table. 

I was wearing a pair of jeans and a black top. Nothing special and surely not eccentric at all. A kind of indifferent outfit, similar to the response I had when the first race started. On the other side, everybody was on the edge of their seats. Some people were screaming, others had a quiet, but still intense reaction, expressing a silent agony.

Each race usually consists of more than 12 thoroughbred horses which are ridden by a jockey. The horses have to run a set distance and the fastest Thoroughbred wins the race. Same as it’s jockey. Thoroughbred is called a horse breed developed for horse racing. Jockey is the person who has been employed to ride horses in horse races. With that said, jockey is a real profession and horseracing an actual sport. Specifically, one of the most expensive sports in the world. A quick search in Google taught me that In Ireland, it contributes significantly to the economy of the country, with horse race attendance being a pole of attraction for thousands of visitors annually. The export of thoroughbreds also plays a vital role in the Irish economy. Every year, around 37 countries around the world import Irish thoroughbreds, with Great Britain being the largest recipient of these exports. That explains why every time I walk by the trail next to the river, I see horses grazing. Not to mention horse gambling, another horseracing related economic contributor for the country, which creates jobs and generates revenue. And as I have already confessed, yes, I was also a small contributor for the country today.

There was a new race every 30 minutes, for about 3 hours. Around 7 races in total. After being a simple spectator for the first four, I decided to give it a shot and become an active participant of the show. My first attempt was a complete failure. My horse was the last one to finish the race.  Let’s give it a second try.

“I will bet οn number 7”: I said and I approached the old man who was selling the lottery tickets.

“5 Euros in number 7? Good luck!” he responded back and he handed me the ticket.

The race started. My eyes were on my horse. Firstly, it was left behind, then it was leading the race, a few moments later, number 4 took the lead and at the end, it won. And along with it, I was celebrating my own victory as well. It was just a small amount of money, but who cares. It never really matted. My aim was to experience something new and unique and that purpose was 100% achieved.

I now know that horse races are a significant part of the Irish culture. People go there to have fun, to drink, to bet, to flirt. It’s an event that old people, here in the village, anticipate every year. It’s an heirloom. Positive or negative, it exists and I bet that it will continue to exist for a long time. What’s really impressive with the horse races, is that everybody has a reason that bring them there. It can be alcohol. Flirt. Money. Loneliness. Social display. A job position. A matter of tradition. A hobby. In my case: an escape from routine.

Fedra Mour