It's All Irish to Me

I flew to Dublin again this weekend. Robyn extended the invitation to visit Tom, a Dubliner we had met the first time around; and what with the cheap flight and my time across the Atlantic winding down, the offer proved difficult to pass up.

We arrived at Dublin airport late Friday evening and eventually found who would be our chauffuer for the weekend, Tom Reville---Revel? I asked. Like the ice cream Revel bar?

He's heard of them, but he said: No, like orr--ee-vi-dubblelleee.

Cut to two minutes later: I've figured out his last name really is Reville and the tone is set for the rest of the weekend. The fact that we both speak English is a technicality because we were speaking two entirely different languages the whole weekend.

To accurately explain what an Irish accent is like would be a difficult task, in fact I don't think I could do it justice. To say it sounds lyrical fails to convey how saturated with slang and colloquial catch phrases it is. But to describe only how colloquial it is, implies that it's common, when it's anything but. The Irish accent is without a doubt my favourite. With its unique vocabulary and its charming lilt I could listen to a recorded reading of a dissertation on the anatomy of an earthworm if it were spoken with an Irish accent.

To be fair, there are various kinds of accents, the two biggest differences probably being between northern and southern accents. I've spent all of my time in Dublin, but I've met a handful of students from the north of Ireland, and so I've managed to cultivate an almost sophisticated idea of who is from where--but almost everyone seems to be from Dublin, so when in doubt--assume they're a Dubliner. The thicker the accent is, the further north they are from-generally. However, one of the most difficult accents I've encountered is Jon Jon's--a Dubliner through and through.

The most obvious trait of an Irish accent is the absence of the "th" sound and the drop of every word's ending, particlarly if it ends in an "r" sound.

Think is "tink"
Them, they and the is "dem," "dey," and "duh"
And "quarter past four" is "a quohdah pas fawh"

Another tell tale sign you might be speaking with someone from Ireland would be their seemingly endless number of catchphrases, idioms and rhetorical comments that either don't require a response or mean absolultey nothing:

"What's the craic," (pronounced "crack") is the equivelant of "what's up?" Although, it has a lot more flexibility, like a how-are-you "what's the craic," or a what-are-we-doing "what's the craic" or what-should-I-do "what's the craic," and even was-it-a-good-time "what's the craic."

"Whaddyahink"s and "'Hinkso?"s are versatile as "huh?"s, "are you sure?s", obviously "what do you think?s" and many more.

It is "Honest?" instead of "honestly?" But the word is emphasized as though you just conceded to something unimaginable, even if it is as simple as admitting you prefer rye over white.

HonnEST?

And "eye"s become either "eers", "oys", "eye-ers" or "ars". For instance, I've apparently travelled to Eerland, Oyreland, Eyerland and Arland.

My friend from Newcastle County Down, near Belfast in Northern Ireland says "who was it" almost as often as a North American school girl peppers her commentary with the word "like." But "who was it" doesn't mean anything--at all. Even the Irish can't explain it to me.

It pops up randomnly in conversation, and the closest it ever seems to get to relevant is when he says "who was it" on the phone--but only ever after already knowing who is calling.

When two Irish people speak to each other, translation is impossible. Even when it's a one-on-one conversation, you need the luck of the Irish to catch everything as intended. Some examples include:

My and Robyn's misunderstanding that Tom was telling us about the death of his brother when, in fact, he was telling us about the death of a friend of his brother's. We listened in horror as he talked candidly about what, we thought, was a personal description of how his brother managed to mistake the edge of a bridge for the edge of a sidewalk.

The ten minute conversation required to introduce Tom's dog, Jerry ...or Geri to me. I still don't know what her name was exactly. She was named after either Tom & Jerry's Jerry or the Spice Girl's Ginger Spice Geri. Or both. Or intended after one and the other was a coincidence. I still don't know.

The five minute conversation I had with someone about some place in Canada named after a place in Ireland. Or it might have been a place in Ireland and sounded like a place in Canada. Or it might have been a place in Ireland and he just has relatives in Canada. Either way, I somehow managed to make him think I've visited this place, but I don't even know where it is let alone have I been there.

The conversation I had with with Tom about Irish tea was the conversation he had with me about Irish breakfast.

And the countless other conversations that were abandonned entirely due to irreconcilable communication differences. But regardless of whether or not I actually know what anyone Irish is saying to me, it's music to my ears!