Talking to the Irish

We've been having a great time touring Ireland in our rented car. For me (Dave) this was a fearful adventure, since I've never driven a car on the left side, not to mention that the car is a stick-shift. At the check-out counter the woman said, "Oh, you're American, they're good drivers. Hmm, your booking doesn't have insurance, that will cost an extra $250..." Monica, then jumped in with "Wow! That's a lot!" While I quietly coughed, feeling unsure of my wrong-side-of-the-road driving skills, and said "We ought to get the insurance." We're now halfway through a trip including Y-turn reversals, parallel parking, freeway entrances with no onramps, and overtaking on country roads, oh and quite a few Monica-whimpers too, but so far no accidents. Keep your fingers crossed for us.

We really enjoy talking to the Irish, and it seems the farther you get from Dublin, the more they like talking to you but the harder it gets to understand them. My typical conversation on the phone trying to book a room at a B&B goes something like this:

Woman: Hulla.
Dave: Hello?
Woman: Hi, this is Laurula. Bay-u-tiful weather we've been havin' Cor, las' week was broughanah collah right to yer toes eh?
Dave: Actually I wasn't here last week. It's been nothing but sunny days in Ireland for me. Um, I was wondering...
Woman: Aww, you're a right lucky laud, seems the tourists golah oop on Eirlan on accoun' of ta weather this year.
Dave: So, have I reached Brennan Farms B&B then?
Woman: Aye, I'm Laurula Keenan, boot ta house is called Breenan Farms on accoun' of ta former ooner oo's passed on now.
Dave: I see. And would you have a room available this Friday and Saturday night?
Woman: Fridah and Sutahrdah you say? Hold on, I'll go get the book...
Dave: Thanks.
Woman: (much later) Noo, I'm sorry we're full oop. It's on accoun' o' booth the Eirish an' British havin' a bank holiday.
Dave: Yes, I've heard that. Good thing I'm using Skype instead of a payphone or this call would have cost me 5 Euro.
Woman: Tsh! I know! The rates are just ungodly. Why, I was joost tellin' me neighboor friend Rosie...
(five minutes later)
Dave: Well, It's been nice talking to you. But, I really should try to find a place for the weekend...
Woman: ok, good luck to you.

Not a single place ever answered the phone with "blankety-blank B&B." I always had to ask if I had, in fact, reached a B&B. I imagine I could have had a five minute chat before discovering I had reached a wrong number. But, it would be a nice chat.

Settling in at our country place in Bunratty, the girl who greets us at the door (she's too young to be the hostess) starts a stream of chatter that simply does not stop. She's really nice but sometimes it's ok to pause for breath. Ypu know, if you kiss the Blarney stone, you are supposed to gain the Irish gift of gab. After about 10 minutes, I whisper in Monica's ear that I think this girl has performed a far more intimate act with the Blarney stone. We need to plan our next few days and our friend is more than happy to provide us with suggestions, opinions, directions, etc. although she admits the hostess knows even more. And so, as the torrent of words flows forth, we pick from the river the items that interest us and gently re-direct it when it strays into covering the local shopping mall, the stores within, and the items within each store. "Actually, we're more interested in castles and such." Fortunately, there's no shortage of cows and castles in the area. And so, within a short span we've planned our stay. Actually, this old fashioned method is probably more efficient than the modern internet. Perhaps there is more reason than meets the eye in why Google has built their giant European center in Ireland...