So…Where is this relationship going, anyway?

It’s funny the things that stick in your craw when you learn a new language. For some its pronunciations. For others its words in the new language that sound like swear words in their mother tongue (Irish had some real humdingers!).

For me, one of the hardest things to adjust to with German is the use of formal and informal speech when addressing others.

For those of you not familiar, in some languages you use one set of personal pronouns (the second tense, so “you”) when addressing people in a formal setting: your boss, people older than you, people you’ve just met, your teachers, etc. Then there is a second set of informal personal pronouns you use the rest of the time: with family, close friends, people much younger than you, and so on.

Other than adding a “Sir” or “Ma’am” into the mix, we don’t have this in English. For example, we have other words that we use (called modal verbs for the grammar geeks among us) to make our speech more formal – or polite. For example, with some with whom we are very close we might say, “Can I please have the peas?”

So...Where is This Relationship Going, Anyway?For someone with whom we are well acquainted, but want to add an extra layer of decorum we might say, “May I please have the peas?”

And for extra special situations when we want to afford the person in our company with the utmost respect and polite discourse, we might bust out with, “Might I trouble you to please pass me the peas?”

Well, in German (and many other languages) the formality (aka politeness) is communicated mainly through the manner in which you address the person. In short, there are two different ways to say “you.”

When you first meet someone, you always, always speak to them with Sie (pronounced zee). You continue this formal speech until you both decide you have become close enough to move to du.

However, in order to come to that decision, you have to embark upon the incredibly awkward conversation akin to a dating relationship in which one person asks the other, “So…where is this relationship going, anyway?”

Someone has to brooch the subject by saying something along the lines of, “So…we’ve known each other awhile now and I feel fairly comfortable with you. Should we switch to du now?”

I’ve only had to endure this conversation one time, but I assure you it is just as awkward and tedious as it sounds. I don’t know if its as awkward for the native German speakers as it is for someone like me, who has never spoken a language with the formal/informal set up. But I’m telling you, people…its weird. I mean, what if you suggest moving to du and the other person doesn’t want to?? The shame and embarrassment felt is similar to changing your Facebook status to “in a relationship” after the first date, only to have the other person never call back. Awesome.

And then comes the inevitable time that you accidentally du someone you should have Sie’d. Although, I’ve found most people to be quite gracious in understanding the slip. And, from what I’ve heard this can also be a less awkward way of beginning the “so…where are we?” talk.

Where I’ve found the most offense to happen is when you accidentally Sie someone that you’ve previously du’d. I did that once by complete accident with one of my best friends here. She was obviously insulted because for me to Sie another adult that wasn’t in a position of authority over me meant that I saw her as aged. We laughed about it and she knew I didn’t mean any offense – it was truly just a slip of the tongue – but it definitely knocked the wind out of her at first.

After living here a year and a half I still stress over whether or not I should du or Sie people, and I know more “So…where are we?” conversations are coming. I just hope over time they will get to be less awkward.

How about you? Do you speak a language that uses formal/informal? Is it difficult for you? Or do you find it more awkward speaking a language like English in which there is no distinction?

Vienna, Personified

Someone once said that Paris is a woman, London is a man, and New York City is a transvestite.

Granted, I haven’t been to New York outside the airport, but after my visits to Paris and London, I must say I find that statement to be shockingly true.

It always amazes – and delights – me how each major European city has a distinct and unique personality.

Paris is the haute cotoure model that intimidates everyone; strong and beautiful inside and out, but with a hidden daintiness that surprises even the model herself at times.

London is the slightly stuffy businessman. He’s all propriety and decorum with a hint of conceit. During business hours, anyway. There’s a wild/unkempt streak running through him that he tries hard to conceal, but it is there nonetheless.

Athens is the vibrant, eclectic woman that lives across the street. The one with the amazing energy, infectious laugh and zeal for life everyone else secretly wishes they possessed.

Dublin is the angst-ridden teenager trying desperately to find his place in the world, not sure if he loathes or loves himself. His convictions and culture run deep and strong, but at times he longs to be anyone but himself.

But Vienna…Vienna is somewhat of an enigma. Some might call her a melting pot of cultures, languages and ideas,  but I see her with starker dividing lines than that.

Vienna PersonifiedVienna is like the Johnny Depp of cities. Vienna is the city that is cool beyond reckoning – without even trying or meaning to be, and I’m not sure she cares. She can be both stunningly beautiful and breathtakingly disturbing.

She is full of art, music, and culture; vibrant and alive, brimming with life, love and creativity. Sometimes you feel as if your very breath might be stolen away by the sheer weight and magnitude of the beauty displayed in the most mundane of places and around unlikely corners.

Other times, she scares the crap out of you with her dark secrets and mysterious ideas that are more terrifying than intriguing.

Vienna is a city loved and revered by young and old alike. The elder folk loving the tradition, the stability, the classical nature of architecture and music that runs deep in her life’s history. The young come for her vibrant night life, new ideas in art, science, language and more.

But when I love Vienna the most – when I most relate to her and feel I most belong – is in the morning. Early. This city never stops, it is always teeming with people. Streetcars. Subways. Taxis. Buses. All the time. Day and night.

But morning…

The morning commute is somewhat of an anomaly that resonates deep within my own heart. The trams are full, subway cars packed to the brim. Sidewalks and stations full of people, of shuffling feet. And yet, all is near silent. Words are only spoken when absolutely necessary, and eye after eye is bleary and groggy.

In one way, Vienna is quite the morning city. Schools and businesses open early, and people are on the move before the sun many days. And yet…she is also like the jazz-playing-actor who spent too many hours the night before wailing a tune or spinning a tale for friends over a drink. She functions in the morning because she must – but she’s not happy about it.

I love the morning in Vienna. It feels like a collective protest against rising early and getting things done. We’ll do it, but we don’t have to like it, the city declares in silent unity. This, too, is how I feel about mornings.

By midmorning, and certainly by the lunch hour, the delicious coffee has been had and the city is truly awake and interacting with one another. Conversations in a hundred different languages heard on every street all the live long day.

But morning.

Yes, Vienna to me in many ways is a very strange city; one that I will likely not ever fully understand. We have had our ups and downs, not always having started off on the right foot. But Vienna and I? We’ll always have the mornings.

You Say Potato, I Say…Zulassungsbescheinigung

We get a lot of comments from people about how lucky we are to live where we do, how exotic our lives must be, and one question we get asked all.the.time:

What’s it like living in a foreign country?? 

 Let me tell you a story…

Today, I needed to run some errands. I needed a winter coat – like, a real winter coat, not the cute little cotton thing I had last winter – and I needed to get some things checked out on the car. In case you didn’t know, it snows in Austria. I mean, the Alps? Hullooo! So, it would stand to reason that on occasion, one needs to drive on said snow (and ice) during the winter months. (It’s also totally the law that every car be fitted with winter tires from October to April).

I’d like to share with you the conversation I had with the man at the tire shop about getting an estimate on winter tires. This entire conversation happened in German, so I have provided the translated version here for your enjoyment.

Me: Hello, I would like to get an estimate on winter tires and wheels, please.

Tire Man (TM): Of course! Do you have a Zulassungsbescheinigung for me?

Me: … I’m sorry, what was that?

TM: No problem. Do you have a Zulassungsbescheinigung for me?

Me: I’m very sorry, I don’t know what that is.

TM: *chuckle* Oh, right. It’s a Zulassungsbescheinigung.

Me: But…what is that?

TM: It’s a Zulassungsbescheinigung.

Me: I’m sorry, I am new to Austria and I don’t know what a zu… zus…what a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is.

TM: Oh, haha, of course. It is a Zulassungsbescheinigung.

Me: *blank stare*

TM: *blank stare*

Me: …

TM: …

You Say Potato...

Eventually I did find the Zulassungsbescheinigung…at home, in a file.

Me: Could you maybe write it down for me?

TM: *reaches into a drawer and pulls out what looks like a European driver’s license*

Me: Oh!! *pulls out my European driver’s license* This??

TM: Exactly!! Oh…no. This is a driver’s license. You need a Zulassungsbescheinigung.

Me: *headdesk*

The End.

You may think I embellished this story for humor’s sake, I assure you I did not. (okay, I didn’t actually say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, but whatever word protruded from my lips was just as nonsensical, I assure you.)

If fairness to Mr. Tireman, he probably felt that he was in fact giving me an accurate description of the item, because that’s how German works. All those big, long words German is so famous for? They are a bunch of smaller words jammed together so that it very accurately and in great detail describes the item, location or office/department to which it refers. Zulassungsbescheinigung probably means “little card containing all the pertinent information pertaining to your car ever in the history of man”, because that’s what it is. And, as I learned today, any time you need work or inspections done on your car, you must present this.

Later this afternoon, I went to a second tire shop for another estimate. When TM2 asked me for my Zulassungsbescheinigung, I grinned slyly to let him know I’m hip to the code and whipped out my supercalifragilisticexpialidocious before he could even finish saying the word. Booyah.

Yes, living in Vienna (or any European place) has its amazing highlights. Just the other day, I was buying paper towels and coffee in the shadow of the world-renowned Stefansdom Catherdral. I mean, wow. So many times we stop in the middle of our day and just look around and take it in because we – how do the kids say it these days? –  just can’t even. Sometimes we literally can’t even.

However, most days…this my friends – this conversation right here – is what it’s like to live in a foreign country.

7 Ways Learning a Language is Like Being the Parent of a Newborn

We are currently in the middle of learning our third language (not counting the snippets of Spanish and American Sign Language we both picked up growing up). As I’m going through this process again, it struck me once again how humbling it is to start learning to communicate from scratch.

7 Ways Learning a Language is Like Being the Parent of a NewbornA friend recently asked me what language learning is like. As I described it, I realized it is a lot like the first days of parenting a newborn. So, for those of you who have never learned another language, maybe this will help you understand your language-learning friends a bit better (or those you encounter in public who are learning your language!). For those of my friends who have learned/are learning one, I commiserate with you.

1. Its frustrating. Like, way more frustrating than you would have expected. All of the travel brochures make it seem like a dream come true. Yet nothing makes sense, everything takes at least three times as long to do as it used to, and you’re never quite sure you’re doing it right. And someone else always has an opinion about how you should be doing it differently.

2. You’re tired. Exhausted. Brain dead. You now have trouble making a coherent sentence in either the new language or your mother tongue. You resort to a lot of grunting and pointing because you’re just too tired to make the effort to use real words. You have bags under your eyes and your clothes may or may not match because you just don’t care anymore. Your whole body hurts and you wonder how such a small thing can suck so much life and energy out of you.

3. You pantomime. A lot. You talk in weird voices, make creepy faces and say things you never would normally say. Once proud of your literary prowess, you are now reduced to speaking one syllable words in a Me-Tarzan-You-Jane tambour while using the words most 3 year olds in your new culture mastered long ago. “Where milk? Need Bread.”

4. You get overly excited at the tiniest  most mundane of achievements – and completely over share them with your friends, family, postman, or anyone else that will listen. You may or may not also have photos to go along with your story. “You guys! You guys! I totally used the Genitive case today while I was in the store! It was so cool! I was all….”

5. You make relationships with people you otherwise never would have met. The depths of these friendships shock and move you. You’re in a club now. The Language Learners of the World club. You’ve been through the war of tenses, conjugations, and irregular verbs together. You’ve toughed it out in the trenches of homework no one understands. You’ve all spent sleepless nights stressing over that autobiography or class presentation you’re supposed to do. It’s the blind leading the blind, and you’re friends for life now.

6. A few months into the process you look back and see how far you’ve come. You’re feeling more comfortable with the language, using it in daily life. You start to think, “I’ve got this! I can totally do this!” You might even start to imagine what it might be like to learn another new language. You picture yourself with your adorable little set of foreign languages and how fun it would be to travel together. And then you have the verbal equivalent of a complete diaper blow out all over yourself in public. And you decide maybe you don’t need another new language after all.

7. It’s one of the hardest things you have ever done, and yet one of the most valuable. It brings you closer to others, teaches you things about yourself you never knew, and pushes you to grow beyond what you ever thought possible.

Have you ever learned another language? What do you think – is it like having a newborn all over again? If you have never learned another language, what language would you learn if you did?

 

10 People You See Everyday on Public Transport

A huge portion of the world utilizes public transport as their primary mode of transportation. After spending a few months doing just that, I have decided that there are 10 People you will see everyday, without fail, when utilizing public transport. Let me know if you’ve seen them, too.

Here we go:

1. The Prideful Regular

He knows the system inside and out – and he wants you to know he knows. He makes sure he pushes the stop button before the mechanism can even announce the next stop. See, everyone, I have the route memorized and I know my stop is next. He exits the vehicle with speed, confidence and a bit of flair. He makes sure not to even glance in the direction of the signs and rolls his eyes at those who do.

2. The Calculating Regular

He goes beyond knowing which subway line he needs and knows which seat (or standing place) near which door on which car of the subway in which to ride in order to exit said subway car the absolutely closest possible to his next destination – either the gangway to his connection or the exit above ground. If the car of his choosing is too full, he is not above waiting for the next train to come along.

10 People You See Everyday on Public Transport3. The Map Studier

This guy checks the stop map after every stop. He counts, and re-counts, how many stops he has until he disembarks. He finger traces the map at least once for good measure. If there is more than one map posted in the train, he will study them all to make sure they are the same. Despite the appearance, he is most likely a regular user of the public transport system.

4. The Just-In-Timer

“Mind the gap.” “Steigen Sie nicht mehr ein.” “Please do not board.” The warning beep sounds and the doors begin to close. Cue this guy. He runs with the speed of a cheetah and just makes it through the doors milliseconds before they close – very often causing collateral damage (toppled children, spilled coffee, etc) in the process. There are two types of Just-In-Timers. The first, is the Melodramatic Just-In-Timer. He makes overly dramatic gestures of relief – releasing a big sigh, wiping fake-sweat from his brow, grabbing his knees and puffing – and chuckles happily at anyone who makes eye contact. It would seem he is pleasantly surprised at his success, but the precision with which he timed his sprint from the escalator ten yards away gives you the feeling most of his public transport entrances go similarly to this one. Perhaps he has a bit of the Calculating Regular in him. The second type is the Non-Chalant Just-In-Timer. He acts as though he wasn’t just nearly decapitated by thirty pound doors slamming shut and takes his place stoically in the crowd of passengers.

5. The Just-Misseder

Although closely related to number 4, our friend here is of the slightly less lucky variety. He gives it the good ole college try but arrives only in time to have the doors quite literally slam in his face. Here you see three types of folks. You have the Laid-Back Just-Misseder. This fellow laughs it off, shakes his head and perhaps even gives a plucky shoulder shrug to the onlookers who did make it into the train as they pull away. Then you have the Angry Just-Misseder. He slaps the closed doors, yells some sort of angry yawp – often with profanity. Angry gestures at the passengers inside ensue, as though they shared some blame in him missing out. Then comes the outburst towards the ever-“inconsiderate” driver/conductor – all to no avail. Finally we see the Just-Kidding Just-Misseder. This unfortunate friend also runs full speed towards closing doors only to find them closed up tight upon arrival. However rather than laughing it off  or getting angry, he just pretends he wasn’t in fact trying to board. It is the public transport version of patting your pockets as though you’ve forgotten something when you realize you’re walking in the wrong direction. All three types are left with the agonizing 2 minute wait for the next train or bus with only their question of What did I do wrong? to keep them company.

6. The Tourist Family

What did they just say? I think we’re on the wrong train! No, I told you this is the right one. We want the red line, right? No, I said we didn’t want the red line. Wait, what did that announcement just say? Is this the last stop? What? We have to get off? Wait, I’m confused….

This poor family just wants to see the Opera House. Or Big Ben. Or the Colosseum. But somewhere their public transport compass has gotten skewed. They battling jet lag, language barriers, culture shock and at any moment you just know they are going to completely lose their minds. This family often comes with exaggerated hand gestures, overly slowed speech, and if American a general volume increase of roughly 30 decibels.

7. The Sleeper

This dude has either spent the night out partying, pulled an all-nighter study binge or is coming off an Energy Drink high. Whatever the cause, he’s sacked out. Everyone else in the train is placing bets on when he will wake up, and if it will be the right stop. You actually get bonus-points if you get to see them wake-up…most times your own stop comes up before you get to see the conclusion to his story.

8. The Kids Fighting Over the Button

Never mind that these kids actually live here and take public transport every.single.day., multiple times a day. They are still going to fight over who gets to push the Stop button. Every. Single. Time. You also can find these creatures in the elevator. The Prideful Regular takes great joy in swooping in to push the button just as the child who has won said fight reaches his grubby little finger out to do it.

9. The Jungle Gym-ers (AKA The Parents Who Are Too Tired to Mind Their Kids)

You’ve seen them. These are the kids doing amateur Parkour in the train car, swinging from handle to handle like monkey bar rings, and spinning around the handle pole like it was a playground apparatus. The parents can often be seen slumped in a corner seat, hair matted, dirt smudged on their faces just trying to maintain composure until they reach their destination. Very often these families start out as number 6 but but the end of the week transform into this.

10. The Loud Music Guy

It doesn’t matter if he’s listening to Marilyn Manson, Pearl Jam, ABBA or Mozart this guy loves his music – and wants you to love it, too. Even though he’s wearing headphones, you can hear this dude’s tunes from the other end of the train car/bus. Often times he is completely stoic, not even a head bob or foot tap. However every now and then, the rhythm gets him and he forgets that others can hear him and he serenades the whole car. Its a treat for the whole family, I tell ya.

So there you have it, the 10 People You Meet Everyday on Public Transport. Have you met these guys? Who else do you see everyday on the bus, subway or street tram? Oh, and by the way, if you’re any sort of regular public transport user, you – like me – have been every single one of these people.

In A Courtyard of Stone

We enter the empty courtyard on a brisk Sunday morning. The sky, a cloudless azure, is a stark and beautiful backdrop to the towering stone spires and turrets hovering above.

We are stopped in our tracks by the beauty. The stature. The solitude. The silence.

We stood there for an eternity – though really only a moment or two – and took it all in. A lone bench stood sentry between two bare trees. The monastery sandwiched between some classical architecture of which I do not know the name; I only appreciate the beauty.

These buildings, standing longer than my mind can engulf, represent my new home. Beauty. Strength. A deep and rich history – one of which I have barely begun to scratch the surface.

I stand before these structures and all I can do is stare. In awe. My balance waivers at the weight of the emotional and historical atmosphere. Or is that just the cobblestones beneath my feet? Or is it the jet lag? Or brain fog?

Everything is the same color. The same taupe-ish white covers the walls, the spires, the cobbles below. It is stunning. It is imposing.

It is the perfect mirror for the culture surrounding me. So beautiful and intricate and delicate and strong it all looks the same. At first glance. Yet the more I look, the more I learn, the more details emerge. The distinctions that once made it all look exactly the same are now the things that set one thing so distinctly apart from another.

My internal wandering and monologue is interrupted when something catches my eye.

A balloon, as orange as the day is long, bops and swoops on the breeze around the floor of the plaza. It makes no noise. No squealing child chases after it. It dances and sways this way and that. Its bright color and chaotic activity stand in stark contrast to the quiet and stoic setting.

I feel like that balloon.

Standing out, sticking out, no matter how much I try to blend. I just want to fit in; blend in. To know all those unwritten rules everyone else just follows without even knowing it.

Even in those moments in which I exhibit the perfect behavior, my very appearance gives me away. I’m simply an orange balloon in a courtyard of white stone.

And yet, there is something I enjoy about the chaotic blowing of the cultural breeze…of being swept about and dancing around the social cues and unwritten nuances of a city alive with a thousand nations, countless languages, running on the heels of a millennium of history.

One day, and I probably won’t even notice it happen, I will cease to be the orange balloon and will have emerged from my cultural cocoon some creature closer to what is native to this land. I won’t have to think about every step, every word, every road, every turn. Life will just be life, with it’s routines and friends and jobs and laughs.

I hope, though, not to lose some of the sheer awe and delight found in these early days in a new place. I am treasuring the newness; the discovery; the excitement. I will never experience these particular firsts again.

So, while I look forward to the day when I seem to belong in this courtyard, I know it is ok to be a little bit orange for awhile.

From Sea to Shining Sea: Tips for Helping Ex-Pats’ American Re-Entry

So you have family or friends living overseas, and they’re coming back to America! Whether they are coming for a short vacation,  a few months, or moving back permanently, you’re ecstatic and can’t wait to see them. Right? If they’re anything like me and my family, they can’t wait either!

Photo by Deibel Photography

Photo by Deibel Photography

We have been back in the States for almost six months now, and I feel like our re-entry back into America was fairly smooth. This is due in large part to some highly thoughtful things people did for us to help ease the transition. As much as we experienced culture shock when we moved overseas, reverse culture shock (culture shock upon returning to your home culture) has always been harder. It would have been infinitely more difficult without these tips I’m about to share with you.

Whether they are military, businessmen, humanitarian or in any of a myriad of other roles overseas,  these tips and ideas can help make the transition back into American culture much smoother and more comfortable for everyone.

1. Stock the basics. Our first morning back in the States, we may have fumbled for 20 minutes trying to figure out how to work the coffee maker, but that was the worst of our worries because the house was already stocked with coffee, tea, sugar, milk, bread, butter, cereal, granola bars, peanut butter and jelly. There was also a stash of basic toiletries, lotion, sunscreen and Chapstick (perfect for helping our Irish-soaked skin adjust to the Arizona dryness!). Even if they are staying in a hotel, giving them a bag with some snacks, bottled water, and toiletries really goes a long way. This saves them from dragging their travel-weary bodies down to the store only to have a stroke trying to choose a bottle from two aisles of shampoo!

2. Give them time. Jet lag’s a killer. If at all possible, avoid dragging them around to see everyone and everything the very first day. Give them time to sleep, and their bodies to adjust to the local clock. At the very least give them a couple of days – a full week is even better – before putting any kind of expectation on them for any kind of normal schedule. They are most likely waking up in the middle of the night or crazy early in the morning, and struggling to keep their eyes open by dinner time. The bigger the time difference, the longer it will take.

3. Let them be in America. Chances are while they are in America they want to be immersed and enjoy all their favorite foods, music, places and treats they can’t get overseas. So while you’ve been eyeing that Filipino restaurant and dying to take them to it to show your interest in their life, they may want to avoid everything to do with their host culture for a little while. (Remember that scene at the end of Cast Away when they served sushi and crab legs for his welcome home party after he had been living on an island for four years??) Having said that, it is fun to experience something of their new culture together, especially if you are unable to travel to where they have been. So, let them know those things are there, but let them take the lead on how much of that they want to do – particularly if they are only in the States for a short time before going back.

4. Give them grace when it comes to social norms. We’ve had several instances the past five months when we have been out somewhere and I’m suddenly aware my children are the center of attention – good or bad. Every culture has different rules for what is normal, acceptable behaviors, speech, etc. I’m the first to laugh at myself every time I try to get into the car on the “wrong” side! So, if they automatically kick their shoes off before entering your house or speak with a British accent, it’s okay to giggle in amusement, but try not to poke fun.  Kids might also not be aware of the American social norms when it comes to acceptable behavior, particularly in public. Modeling the acceptable behavior is a great way to educate without stepping on too many toes.

5. Don’t be hurt if they call their place overseas “home.” Chances are when they are over there they refer to America as home. Its part of the weird belonging to two (or three or four) places at once, which is now their reality. Home becomes much less about a location as it does about an atmosphere and the people.

6. Don’t assume they’ve been able to keep up with American pop-culture. Not every place in the world has access to Philip Phillips, Duck Dynasty or Downtown Abby (gasp!). Try to be sensitive to when they are getting lost in the conversation and be willing to fill in the back-story. And its okay if they never really “get it.”

7. Avoid asking for command performances. This is particularly important with children. Once you’ve been able to have a conversation with them about where they live, what they like to do, who their friends are, etc they will most likely be more than happy to share with you a demonstration of their latest karate moves or teach you a few phrases in their new language. But try not to say hello and immediately ask for a language lesson or song performance. Chances are they love your interest, but nobody likes to be put on the spot.

8. Educate yourself. Take a few minutes to learn the basics about their host-country/culture if you haven’t already. When we first moved to Ireland in 2002, we had people ask if we were going to have to grow our own food, if we’d have electricity, and how we were going to get clothes. Little did they know that Ireland is the second largest software producing/distributing country in the world – and they had a woman president at the time! It will mean a lot to your friends/family if you know enough to ask relevant questions about their life.

9. Be a stress defuser (did I just make up a word? I think so). Even if they are just coming for a short vacation, the transition is always going to be stressful, no matter how many times they do it. Work to ease as much of the stress as you can. Some of the most meaningful ways people have done this for us has been to make sure we have enough car space to get from the airport (with us and all of our bags) to where we are staying, offer to babysit so we can do some American shopping on our own, offer to come help sort, clean or pack when it was time to leave again, and offers to take us out for a meal – or to bring one over – particularly at the very beginning or very end of the trip is incredible.

There are always things we can do to help one another, and being a part of a family or a group of friends is not always easy and rarely is it not messy. But without the mess, it wouldn’t be beautiful. We have been on the receiving end of all of these things I’ve shared with you and it has been so encouraging – and freeing.

Have you ever lived overseas? What things helped you when you returned to your home culture? Do you have family/friends overseas? What things can they do when they return to help you understand where they are coming from?

If You Came to My Village

Photo by Deibel Photography

Photo by Deibel Photography

If you came to my wee village in the west of Ireland on Saint Patrick’s Day, it might look a little bit different than you expect. It might be more subdued. There might be less green. There certainly wouldn’t be any pinching. But it would no doubt be an experience that you would take with you and think of fondly for the rest of your life. You might even say it was magical.

If you came to my village for Paddy’s Day

– You’d come to our parade. You’d see a street lined with families and the air filled with laughter. You’d see the tri-color everywhere, with people wearing the three colors of the flag more than just green. You’d see floats made with tissue paper and poster-board.  You’d hear tin-whistle tunes from the children. You’d see political satire and comedic drama. You’d definitely hear some traditional music.

Photo by Deibel Photography

Photo by Deibel Photography

– You’d hear about folk “drowning their shamrock,” wearing a bunch of clover on their lapel and it wilts in the heat of the musky pub air.

-You’d laugh ’til your sides ached, even if you didn’t fully understand why. But the joy of celebration and lilting Irish spirit is contagious and when they laugh you can’t help but join, and when they sing you’d be hard pressed not to cry.

If you came to my village for Paddy’s Day

– You’d eat a 99 cone if the weather was nice.

– You’d not hear When Irish Eyes Are Smiling once, but quickly tire of The Fields of Athenry and Galway Girl.

– You’d drink tea with a friend round their generous table and perhaps take a stroll on the beach.

– You’d huddle around the bonfire as the sun went down drinking in the atmosphere, imbibing in the Irish strength of spirit and reveling in the craic.

Photo by Deibel Photography

Photo by Deibel Photography

And finally, if you came to my village for Paddy’s Day you’d be grieved to leave her behind. And every year hence you’d remember the day you spent in “my” land, among my friends family. And never cease to speak of the day when an Irish breeze kissed your face, and her people stole your heart.

I’ve linked this post up with The Better Mom, Women Living Well