“You’re so American, it’s unbelievable…” (Ireland) By Erin Riordan

…aka How to (Unintentionally) Live-Up to American Stereotypes in a Foreign Country.

Any traveler’s guide will tell you that, when venturing to a foreign country, you really have two choices:
1) Be the tourist. This includes carrying around a large bag, camera around your neck, and snapping pictures of random people’s babies.
2) Integrate. This could also be the “subtle tourist” approach. You carry only a small purse and camera, hide your valuables under your clothing, and take pictures of the landscape quietly and discreetly.

However, what no one tells you in all the traveling books you collected and memorized, is how to avoid internationally recognized Americanisms, and how people can instantly know you’re American (and not maybe just a visiting Canadian). I’m not talking about wearing flipflops and American Eagle apparel and asking for a Miller at the local pub. I’m talking about things you would never notice because it’s so normal for us.

The word “awesome.”

Crazy, isn’t it? You could put on your best Irish brogue and they might buy it until you slip and say “awesome.” I had no idea that this word was such a dead give-away. I mean, I say it all the time, don’t you?! Well, thankfully, I made friends with a local to Letterkenny, Ireland who has shown me the way… Her name is Aoife (pronounced ee-fah) and when I first said “That’s so awesome” she literally cringed.

Aoife informed me that American television shows are really popular in Ireland. Irish teenagers grow up watching shows like Desperate Housewives and The Hills (yikes!). These shows have made the American accent and the word “awesome” a huge sensation for the younger Irish.(Globalization or Americanization? A debate for another time…)

Apparently, Irish youth love talking in American accents. They do it so much to be “cool” that they end up annoying all the older teenagers and adults. One popular phrase is “Oh my god, that’s soooo awesome!” Which totally explains why a bunch of kids at the Errigal Arts Festival’s Carnival Parade were asking us to say the word “awesome” and then giggling for an hour afterwards.

After talking with her a while, Aoife (who is my age) sighed and exclaimed, “You’re so American, it’s unbelievable.” So now, I seriously watch how I speak. Whenever people ask me how I am liking Ireland, I say “It’s so aweso–beautiful.” It’s so hard not to use that word! That forbidden word…

Well, I’m going to go retrain my vocabulary and further explore just how the Irish feels about Americanisms.

Until then,
Erin R.

PS. Oh my god, Ireland is soooo AWESOME!

Ireland is an English-speaking Country… Right? by Erin Riordan

…Well, yes and no. Turns out, English is spoken by the majority of the Irish people, but Co. Donegal is home to many families who speak the native language of their ancestors. Irish Gaelic is actually listed as the constitutional national language of the Republic of Ireland. Technically, it’s Irish Gaelic, but the locals refer to the language as simply “Irish.”

It’s a fascinating language to listen to. I’ve only ever seen it in writing; I’ve never heard it spoken. When I first heard it on the airplane to Dublin, it really shocked me! It sounds a lot like German…which makes sense given that it is a Germanic language (meaning that it came Indo-European descent like English and German.)

To be honest, I never thought I would have a communication issue in Ireland (at least not a language issue), but one bus driver spoke Irish as his first language and English as his very far second… When I tried to inquire about a book I had left on the bus, he didn’t know what “book” was. Finally, I tried “something you read?” and he understood. I think he thought I meant something like a laptop. Either way, I got my book back and had my first in person encounter with an Irish speaker!

When I went to the local store, I would hear mothers speaking to other adults in English, then speak Irish to their children. It was a fascinating experience in bilingualism teaching methods. It really sparked my interest in learning more about the language and gave me a potentially exciting documentary topic for class!

I can already tell this is going to be a fascinating trip and experience! More to come!

Slán agat!
Erin R.

In France they speak French by Taylor Pool

Riddle: What do you get when you cross an American trying to speak French and a Frenchman trying to speak English? Answer: A hilarious situation in which no one is speaking his or her native language and, therefore, he/she must resort to wild hand gestures to get a point across. The result:  a complete communication catastrophe.

Okay, it’s not actually that bad.

However, in France they do speak French. This seems obvious, right? But really, everything, even the traffic signs, graffiti and television, is in French. Luckily, I have a few years of studying the language under my belt to help me communicate with the natives. In fact, my host mom tells me I’m good at French! Do I believe her? Not really. Here’s why:

Naturally, it is polite to at least try to speak French at first with shop owners, waiters, bus drivers, train station employees, crazy people on the street and so on. In fact, to learn French is technically the whole reason that I am here! Nevertheless, the situation that results is really quite comical. For example, yesterday I was ordering ice cream – which is delicious in France in case you were wondering – and after ordering what I wanted (in French) the shop owner replies (in English), “in a cup or cone?” Me: “Sigh...A cup please.” Also, after ordering my lunch at the student cafeteria, again in French, the student employee instantly asks, “Where are you from?” Dangit, is it really that obvious that I’m American?

Be it the constant American clumps I travel in that kind of resemble a herd of cows, or the hilarious kid in our group that can’t resist the full-out, two arm wave whenever he sees one of us, or the constant snapping of cheesy photos wherever we go, I don’t think our attempts to “blend in” are going to be effective just yet.

On the flip-side, it’s kind of cool to be the foreigner for once. I get constant questions about the United States, the American economy, the weather and my personal favorite, “Do Americans remove their shoes after walking in the door too?” Umm…yes?

Oh, traveling. What an adventure!

Getting over the language barrier by Kendall Kidder-Goshorn

When I first arrived in London I was always asking people to repeat what they said – I could NOT understand the British accent. Now, however, as time has passed, I can understand the accent perfectly and instead, it is the phrases that I don’t understand. Thankfully my roommate is taking a Language and Society class that explains a lot of these phrases to her and I have some British friends with whom I am not too embarrassed to ask “what the heck does that mean?!” I love speaking with someone and having them see my expression when they drop a word that I have never heard before; I can only imagine the look of confusion on my face. Here are a couple words/phrases that have sent my head on a spin!

Septic: If you run into a person who speaks with a Cockney accent and they pick up on your fab American accent, most likely when they’re talking to their friends at the pub later that night they will say “oh, I met a septic this afternoon.” I know, you’re probably thinking “septic? Like a septic tank??” Yes, my friends, we Americans are referred to by those speaking Cockney as a type of sewage system. Ha! It is actually kind of simple how we came to be called septics – the Brits are known for referring to Americans as “Yanks,” which rhymes with “tanks,” a word included in the term “septic tank” so, obviously, Americans are called “septics.”

Coach: There are signs for “coaches” everywhere. At first I thought this was a clever, yet incredibly expensive,  advertising ploy by the handbag brand, Coach, but then I had a “d’oh!” moment and realized that a coach is actually a bus that travels long distances. This was disappointing because for a couple days I thought free designer handbags were going to be popping up in hidden places (follow the signs!) until it hit me that it would be a pretty good idea to know where the coach station is so I can get there when I have to take a coach. One of the most popular coach stations is in Victoria BUT a ten minute walk away from the actual train station – I had a slight panic attack trying to figure out where it was at 6 a.m. while I was trying to catch a coach to take me to Stansted airport. London is a great place for coach travel – you can buy coach tickets to Liverpool, Leeds, Manchester, Brighton, Warwick Castle and to major cities in Scotland and Wales. This weekend my friends and I are hopping on a 12 hour overnight bus to Amsterdam to celebrate Thanksgiving. How in the world we are supposed to survive an overnight bus-ride is beyond me but hey! You live and you learn.

Taking the piss: Woah, this phrase is pretty crude sounding, right? Someone is “taking the piss” if they are joking around or trying to pull your leg. I think this phrase is best understood when used in conversation..

Catherine: So what happened in class today?

Kendall: Well Prof. Tucker came in with cupcakes for everyone and said that we were going to watch a British movie marathon instead of him lecturing on the plague. So we started off with “Love Actually” and then continued with “Bridget Jones”…

Catherine: That would happen on the one day that I skipped!

Kendall: Yeah, seriously, and that’s not at all. While we were stuffing our faces with sugary goodness, all of a sudden the Spice Girls walked into class for an impromptu performance of “Wannabe!!!!”

Catherine: …..what?

Kendall: … and then Hugh Grant walked through the door! Oh and Winston Churchill

Catherine: KENDALL! You’re taking the piss!

I think one of the most important pieces of advice I could give to an American traveling to London is that nearly every Brit is going to poke fun at your accent. Most of the time the joking is done in a friendly manner, and it is an easy way to start a conversation with someone. So many times have I been made fun of for saying “ohmygod!” and “awesome!” that by now I just let it slide past and laugh along with them at my “American-ness.”

Interesting Experience by Kendall Kidder-Goshorn

My friends from home always ask me how much I like hearing British accents 24/7. I love the British accent, especially when there is a little bit of Cockney mixed in, but sometimes I get so confused because I just cannot understand what people are saying. Often I wonder if people think that I am hard of hearing because it always takes me a couple of seconds to process what my friends/the grocer/my Creative Writing professor said, and in a lot of cases, the language barrier halts me from comprehending what they were trying to say. I usually laugh off these moments in my head, but there is one situation in particular that is so funny that it has to be mentioned.

I was born in Putney, a district in south London, and moved to my current town in Virginia when I was 8 years old. My parents are both American though, so I am extremely lucky in the fact that I have dual citizenship with America and the UK. Because of this, I knew it would be relatively easy for me to apply for a job since I wouldn’t have to apply for a visa like my peers. I live about five minutes away from Kensington High Street, which has a lot of popular shops so I figured that I could easily get a job working in retail.

Oh, if that were only the case.

The third day of living in London, I eagerly made my way to Urban Outfitters to apply for a job. Urban Outfitters is an American retailer and a store that I visit frequently when I am at home. I naively assumed that my “American-ness” would result in a job being offered to me on the spot – Urban Outfitters revels in offering alternative fashions and I figured that my being American would be considered ‘alternative.’ My friend Catherine and I got to the store, and I walked straight up to the woman at the cash register to ask for a job application.

Cashier: You don’t need to fill out an application, just drop off your CV and we will check it out.

The cashier had a really strong accent, and since we had only been there a few days, I couldn’t interpret it as well as I can now (or like to think that I can, at least). On top of that, she had mentioned something called a “CV.” I felt an immense panic as I realized that I had no idea what a CV is, and I would have to broadcast this to a woman whom I was trying to get a job from.

Kendall: I’m sorry, could you repeat what you just said?

Cashier: You just need to bring in your CV!

Now I am fumbling for words and look like I have no idea how to speak. I was so panicked that I didn’t understand what a CV was, and was mentally chastising myself for not googling “how to get a job in the UK” before I ventured to Urban Outfitters. That search may not have garnered any results but hey! I would look less like an idiot than I currently did.

Kendall: A CV?

Cashier: …Yes, you need to bring a CV

Kendall: I’m sorry but I don’t know what that is…

Never in my life have I seen someone look at me with such a look of confusion and “what the heck??” on their face. On top of feeling incompetent, I was also now incredibly embarrassed. I realized that it was probably because a CV was a government issued document – something all citizens seeking employment had to fill out before physically applying for the job itself. Of course I didn’t have this document because I had only just arrived in the country and had not received such important governmental forms.

… Right.

Kendall: Ohhh! Do I have to get that from a government office somewhere? Or can I just print one out online? Can YOU give it to me?

….

Uh oh. Whoopsies, guess it wasn’t a government issued document, and why had she looked so appalled when I asked if she could give me one to fill out?

Cashier: Ahh. Give me one second; I’ll be right back!

Alright. I stood at the register, my face getting hotter by the second as I grew more embarrassed. I could already see my friendly cashier friend talking to the other sales associates after I left, “did you see that American that came in? She had NO idea what a CV is! … What a nutcase!” She was back fairly quickly and had a stack of papers stapled together in her hands. Here it was, the moment when I, Kendall Kidder-Goshorn, would finally understand what a CV was! Full of excitement, I leaned over the counter to see the stack of papers she was showing me to see…

Kendall: A resume!! (no wonder she looked at me so weirdly when I asked if she could just give me one!)

Cashier (laughing, thank goodness): Ah, yes, that’s what your lot calls them. Well just bring one in and we will contact you if we have any openings!

I thanked her, grabbed Catherine – who was leisurely checking out the sweater display – and high-tailed it out of there before bursting into laughter on the high street. Catherine and I still joke about it even now – my first experience of a language barrier, and while I am trying to get a job at that!

P.S. I just got back from spending my fall break in Naples, Italy visiting my Uncle and his family! It was a great trip – I had a wonderful time seeing the first Greek inland settlement at Cuma, walking through the Volcano Solfatara and eating locally caught octopus (woah!) at the Bay of Pozzuoli. Something that I will always remember from this trip, though, has absolutely nothing to do with ancient ruins or active volcanoes – it has to do with a bathroom! I was going to take shower, and quickly glanced at the water knobs to see that they had a “C” and an “H” engraved on them. The “C” was on the left side; the “H” was on the right. I turned the right-handed knob to get the water all nice and hot, and then I waited. About a minute went by and the water was still freezing! After a few minutes of shivering in my towel, I turned the “H” knob to off, and turned the “C” knob so that water came out of the spigot. I thought to myself that this was pointless – that was the “C” and everyone knows C=cold, but then, the water coming out was HOT. I looked at the knobs again, and realized that I glanced too quickly at the water knobs – the “H” (which I thought stood for hot) was actually an “F.” The F stood for frigido, the Italian word for cold, and the C stood for calda, the Italian word for hot; in my haste to take a shower I forgot to consider the fact that I wasn’t in an English speaking country. I told my uncle this story the next morning over breakfast, and he enlightened me by saying that it is almost universal that the left knob is hot water, and the right knob is cold. Interesting, huh?