Past Posts
32 Divided by a Common Language, the Third
I love encountering new-to-me slang words that have become so widely used and respectable they appear in the newspaper; though it must be said, Irish newspapers are more willing to use “language” than their American counterparts. An article in The Irish Times the other day said “the milk had a pong to it….” I had to look up “pong” used that way, though context did help. It means an offensive or bad odor, of course. And though the origin may be a Romani word “pan” meaning the same thing, you can...
31 At the Museum
I grew up in Evanston, Illinois, next door to Chicago, a city of world class museums. My parents, my aunt, and my elementary school would sometimes take me to visit the massive buildings on museum mile, but it wasn’t long before I was going regularly on my own, taking the “L,” walking along the lakefront and up one grand staircase or the other to wonder at the dinosaurs lurking in the lobby of the Field Museum, or to visit with American Gothic and A Sunday Afternoon on the Island...
30 Fish and Chips
One of the best fish and chips shops in Ireland, Presto (established 1970) on South Lotts Road, is only steps from our apartment here in Dublin. And it’s not just me saying “best.” The Daily Edge (June 8, 2014) put it among the nineteen best places in the country (there are hundreds), and it’s usually included in top ten lists for Dublin and sometimes for all Ireland. We first heard about Presto from a taxi driver—Dublin taxi drivers are a great resource—though we probably would have tried it soon anyway. On...
29 The Terrible Beauty of Patrick Pearse
Anyone visiting Ireland during the next two years is likely to encounter the young man depicted in the sculpture above, Patrick Henry Pearse (1879-1916)—a national icon and for some, almost a saint. Pearse, along with his younger brother Willie, was one of the “Sixteen Dead Men” eulogized by William Butler Yeats who were executed by the British under martial law following the Easter Rising in 1916. The Rising itself was judged a failure, but the executions of the sixteen leaders—poets, schoolteachers, shopkeepers, and a human rights leader among them—contributed...
28 Waiting in Line To Be Legal
A few weeks ago Ron and I spent an entire day—from 7:45 a.m. to 5:45 p.m.—at the Irish Immigration and Naturalization Service office on Burgh Quay here in Dublin. We were there to register for our extended residence, something we should have done months earlier. Because of some confusion in the instructions Ron received from Trinity, we hadn’t realized that we needed to take this step until our son Evan flew in to Dublin to visit us in November. Evan told the gardaí (the “guardians” or police, from An...
27 Handel’s Messiah in Dublin, 13 April 1742
A few days ago I revived my annual Christmas ritual of playing Handel’s Messiah at full volume while I work at my desk or around the house, a practice that is exhilarating but that can also make me nostalgic and weepy—familiar Christmas emotions for many. Truth be told, I sometimes do this at other times of the year, particularly when I need a blast of energy or inspiration to get a project going. My love of vocal music, Handel’s soaring melodies (especially those of the Messiah), and his choice of...
26 Eddie Doherty Handwoven Tweed
I love wool in all its forms—on the hoof, on the spinning wheel, on the loom, as knitting or crocheting yarn, or made up as garments or throws. I sometimes wonder if Ireland drew me to wool or the other way around. In yarn stores I can be found wandering from section to section touching the different types and brands or sniffing the lanolin in skeins of wool that have not been overly processed. I’m afraid I have a lot more yarn at home than I’ll ever get around to...
25 Divided by a Common Language Redux
Here are some more language stories collected by an American surrounded by—and rapidly learning—Irish English. For the first installment of “Divided by a Common Language” see post number 17 under “Past Posts.” The other day an Irish friend asked me if I was enjoying my “doss” year. Luckily she asked this in an email, because I had to do some research before answering her. In UK and Irish slang, “doss” actually means “sleep rough” as in “she’s dossing at a friend’s house after the concert,” etc. “Doss” can also...
24 November in Ireland / Mí na Samhna in Éirinn
Anyone who has stumbled upon the spot pictured above, Doolough (Black Lake) in County Mayo, knows how beautiful it is at any time of the year. This photo—taken on Tuesday, November 18, 2014—speaks to everything that needs to be said about Ireland in the month of November, Mí na Samhna. The bracken has turned to brown, the heather to unnamable dark shades, the peat-infused water to even more impenetrable black. The green that lingers glows greener than ever. Most of the flowers are gone, yet the color palette has expanded....
23 Culture Shock and Awe
Last month I was exchanging emails about this blog and other things with Craig Okino, a dear friend from college, when he learned I was returning from Dublin to Atlanta for six days to attend a wedding on November 1. “I’m curious to hear if you experience a little ‘culture shock’ upon your return to the US,” Craig wrote, “…the subject of your next blog, perhaps?” And in a subsequent message, “I’m very interested to hear what happens when you guys return to your old lives.” Living in Hawaii...