A Yank in Ireland

"Oh, you're a Yank?" It took me about a month before I was convinced that the term Yank was not an insult, but I still cringe as it's tossed around nonchalantly when friends introduce me to someone new. Suffice it to say some things are hard to get used to, but that's not to say everything is. It has been over a year now since I studied abroad at the National Univerisity of Ireland, Galway, and I still occasionally fall for the leg-pulling that the Irish take pleasure in. The first Irish student I befriended proceeded to persuade me that he thought eskimos and Native Americans were both a myth. This conversation directly followed a lecture we shared titled Native North Americans from Prehistory to Present. Go figure. Since then I've caught on to the straight-faced decieving that the Irish pride themselves in, and I thought that my active filter for fibs would discourage them from continuing, but instead they tend to percieve my constant suspicion as a challenge. Well, as the saying goes, If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. I must admit, the facial expression on the victim's face does make bluffing a hard habit to break.

Playful teasing is only a small aspect of the Irish culture that I've thoroughly enjoyed during my stay here. Ever since I've stepped foot in Ireland, I've recieved nothing but smiles and offers of assistance. There are always people willing to lend a helping hand. As an American with an Irish heritage, it's natural that I would be curious about my family's origin, and it seems natural that anyone from this country would be interested as well. I'm yet to discover the county where my Irish blood began, but now that I've been introduced to the wide variety of accents in this relatively small country, it's a shame that the Irish intonation was lost throughout the generations of my family. Certainly America has different accents and phrases correlating to different states, but never in my life had I come across phrases such as How's the craic? nor have I heard such thick and speedy accents like that from Cork. If it's not immediately obvious where an Irish person comes from by their speech, then try conversing with them on the subject of sports because there is no doubt that pride of their county envelops the local residents. The likes of hurling, gaelic football, rugby, etc, is unmistakably a celebration of county colors, which, being an althete myself, is a very exciting part of the culture; although I was in for a shock during my first hurling experience. Wooden hurleys, a ball made of leather with pronounced stitching, a significant lack of padding or other such protective equipment, numerous damaged fingers, and a goalkeeper who readily sacrifices his body for the sake of refusing the opponent a point; I confess I winchced whenever the players charged each other, but the intensity and skill of the sport is captivating. It didn't matter to me which team won during the first hurling match I watched, but to emphasize my point on pride, I'll mention that my boyfriend threw a red and green shirt over my head!

However, it's probably vital to note that we were late to that match, and the match after that, and the match after that! While I was ten minutes early to every class, my Irish friends were late by a minimum of twenty minutes, and that includes the ten minute grace period students recieve for walking from one class to the other. At first I thought it may just be that my boyfriend lacks a sense of time, but there is a trace of this constant tardiness in much of the Irish population. And when rag week comes around then prepare to experience post-apocalypse aftermath because the majority of students, both Irish and American, will not be found in the classrooms. The poor attendece in college is compensated by the remarkable attendence in the pubs. And herein lies the very foundation for the American, if not global, stereotype for the Irish. Drink. Need I say more? I feel it is necessary that I comment on this prevailing passtime of the Irish culture. It is well known that the Irish gernerally love drinking. When I asked a friend why he was drinking on a Monday, he replied that he was celebrating. When I asked what he was celebrating, he answered that he was celebrating Monday and the following day he'll be celebrating the coming of Tuesday and etc. etc.  There's just no end to the Irish wit. Oh, and did I mention there's a special day to honor the man who created the beloved Guinness? How convenient!

Yes, the pubs are a second home to many of the Irish students, but there is a friendly and welcoming atmosphere during these social hours. For me, the bars back home are very cliquey and isolated. What I mean is, groups of friends stick together and mainly talk amongst themselves. There is hardly any interaction with strangers who are often perceived as a potential threat. During my experience in Galway, however, it was not unusal for large groups to intermingle and talk about things such as the traditional music that sometimes fills in the background. It's not a surprise if the man or woman sitting next to you suddenly stands up and bellows out a mournful song about a sailer missing his love or a ballad about times past. There's a bit of an archaic manner rooted in Ireland that touches upon a courtly conduct, and it's very warming especially if you're sitting next to a cozy fireplace with a drink at hand. By then it's easy to forget the indecisive weather that either spits rain, blows wind, parts the clouds, or mixes them all in a matter of mintues. So long as the music keeps playing, then the warm feeling is embracive. Evidently, it's not hard to feel welcomed into Ireland. 


© Mikal Minarich