Sometimes I forget that I live in a foreign country… That my own accent slips away and floats along with the Irish. That my words and spellings have changed and become so familiar to me that I don't recognize them as different.
I've always been one to keep true to myself-be myself-'stand out in a crowd' sort of thing. -When it comes to travel however, I'm a 'when in Rome' kinda girl. So when in Ireland, do as the Irish do-I speak in a hushed voice, I say 'sorry' instead of 'excuse me', I keep quiet and say 'howya' to a passerby. I even eat butter on my ham sandwiches without thinking that it is weird to do in America.
Then there are times that I am reminded that this isn't where I am from. Words being exchanged and taken up wrong on both parties… Difficulty pronouncing names of towns or even people. Walking through the streets hearing colourful languages being twisted off the tongue… English, Irish, Portugese, Spanish, German, Chinese…You name it. I listen in to those conversations-trying to decide if they are from Russia, or Hungary. Picking the face out in the crowd that is from the Ukraine, and those that stand out from America.
Sometimes I just watch Spongebob on TG4(dedicated channel for Irish speakers)–which is psychedelic in it's own right…
Today, while at the ATM a boy and his mother wait in line behind me-I over hear him talking about a kid in his class that is from Connemara that speaks only Irish. He was baffled by it-couldn't get over it. and ended the little conversation with 'why can't they just speak English like everyone else?!'
Sigh. I wish right here–that I could say that the mother said something clever, to let him know that keeping the language alive is one of the best things-that Irish is spoken in the west for a reason, and that if you go to Dublin and speak Irish, they'll shout at you to go back to your own country… Instead, the mother smiled and said nothing.