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At the Heart of Culture

At the Heart of Culture

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I am a firm believer in the link between language and culture. The daily vernacular can show as much, if not more, about a people’s beliefs, customs and perceptions as art or music.

“An lar” means “the center”

Americans are lucky; we share our language with several other countries while retaining our unique dialect. That patented American accent is the quickest way to find a kindred soul while abroad. While Ireland is in a similar position, the country has been working for the last 100 years to revive its native language, Gaelic.

And now, time for a history lesson with the man we all love to hate: King Henry VIII.

In 1541, the Irish Parliament passed a statute that declared good ol’ Henry the King of Ireland. The Irish nobility had given their allegiance to the King in order to maintain their titles, power and land. But, alas, allegiances are mostly just words, and as the newly Protestant England worked to impose laws upon the predominately Catholic Ireland, the English overlords ran into some trouble. So England tightened its grip. Eventually, the native Irish lords were stripped of their power, and Irish culture, language and law laid by the wayside. More Scottish, English and Welsh settlers moved to Ireland as English culture, language and law was enforced.

The next 200+ years saw English rise as the accepted language. Using Gaelic was looked down upon and even punishable at times. The late 1800’s, however, saw a push for the use of Gaelic as a cornerstone of Irish culture.  As Ireland gained more independence from Britain, the language found more of a foothold.

Another shot of Cork

Today, Irish students are all required to take Gaelic in some form. And I, being the cultural thrill seeker I am, am taking an intro class in modern Irish.

It’s different. Incredibly different. My safety net of Latin root words is gone. The words, so easily formed on an Irish tongue, sound strangled and clipped when I try to say them. And yet, I’m happy to learn. Its through language that we find the heart of a culture. I don’t expect to use it in everyday life, if at all, but it helps me decode my surroundings.

It’s something that many have fought for the right to speak. So even if I butcher it, I’ll give it my best go.

 

My American Problem

My American Problem

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“Just say you’re Canadian.”

Before heading for foreign soil, Americans are often told to brush off questions of nationality by saying they’re Canadian.  The U.S. isn’t exactly the darling of the global community. And, I mean, it’s close enough, right?

The River Lee

For some, fudging the border lines is a non-issue. But for me, I have a hard time claiming I’m from a country I’ve only visited three or four times in my life. Luckily, I’ve never been in a situation where I had to lie, and I figured it wouldn’t be much of a problem while in Ireland

Four days in, though, and I’ve heard from a few locals that leaving the U.S. out of it might be the safest route.

As soon as I arrived in Cork, I struck up a conversation with a taxi driver as he drove me to my new home. When I mentioned to him that I’m a journalism major, the conversation quickly turned toward Syria. I wasn’t at my best after a six hour flight and a four hour bus ride, and I had a difficult time following him. I do, however, remember him telling me that it was probably safer if I avoid discussing politics with the locals.

Later, after I had settled into my room, I introduced myself to one of my Irish roommates. She’d been to the U.S. before, and while she said she admired our diverse wildlife, she did have some decisive opinions about how wasteful we all were. She couldn’t get over how big everything was there – the roads, the cars, the food. There isn’t even public transportation, she said.

All my encounters with the locals so far have been beyond pleasant, but I worry when I walk down the street. Not for my safety, no; I worry that they’ll recognize me as an American by the way I dress or the slightly dazed look on my face and think I’m yet another lost tourist. I fear that my slightly nasal midwestern accent will make them assume that I drive a tank and only eat McDonalds.

University College Cork

What I want is to be recognized as an individual. I want to be able to discuss politics and to hear other views. As I slip further into the culture here, I’m certain that my fears will vanish. I’ll learn the right way to approach a touchy subject. I will be proud of where I’m from without discrediting where I am. I’ll recognize that I have just as many preconceived notions to banish as others have of me. Hopefully, a frank discussion and a pint will be all it takes to air out those stereotypes.

But, at least for now, I finally understand why sometimes it’s easier to say you’re Canadian. Even if the Canadians don’t appreciate it.