It seems when people travel to English-speaking countries, the most noticeable differences are ones that donāt matter very much. So you say āhobā and I say āstove.ā I call that arrangement of stars āThe Big Dipperā and you call it āThe Plow.ā You say āyeā and I thought no one had used that form of the verb since King Jamesā Bible. In the end, though, it highlights our similarities more than our differences, because thereās no cultural confusion: we just have two ways of saying the exact same thing.
There are times, though, when two ways of saying the same thing can matter a lot. A few weeks ago I went to the island of Cape Clear, the southernmost inhabited point in Ireland. I was there for a storytelling workshop hosted by an American named Chuck Kruger, and attended by around ten people from the storytelling community in Ireland and England. Nearly every person there had a different accent, from thick country Irish to a sincere Cockney. It was an incredible experience, but I had one problem: due to a fluke in the off-season bus schedule, it was not possible for me to get back to Cork. I could get to Cape Clear without a problem, but there was no bus back. So I explained my situation at dinner and asked for a ride.
To their credit, the Irishmen kept straight faces while we worked out transportation logistics, but Gerry couldnāt help grinning when he explained I really couldnāt use that wording anymore. āIn Ireland, needing a ride means you want to have sex.ā
āIf I ask for a lift, is that better or worse?ā
They all lost it. Daphne said where sheās from they sometimes ask for a spin, thus avoiding the awkwardness of both ride and lift. Nina, an American girl currently living in Dublin, wondered how you would say āride a horseā if you canāt use those words, and Noona (eighty years old, wears a crocheted cap) went into a fit of giggles and didnāt recover for a solid five minutes.
Luckily I had the ultimate payback: āIt goes both ways you know. When Kate told us that story about the nun who liked her fagsā¦ā*
For your further edification, here is an incomplete introduction to Irish phraseology:
Give out: Another phrase that sounds funny but is completely innocent. It means to give someone a hard time. āI suppose I canāt give out about burning the Thanksgiving turkey, since I messed up the sweet potatoes.ā
Your man: This is not establishing any ownership over the man, itās just a way of referring to someone male. āIsnāt that your man from the pub last night?ā
Lads: Just like we say āguys,ā this does not say anything about the gender of the people in question. In fact, the lads might all be girls. āWeāll stay here a moment and wait for the lads.ā
Laughs: When something is a laugh, it is fun or entertaining, not necessarily humorous. āThat trip was a laugh.ā
Fair play: Roughly āgood job.ā āI succeeded in putting photos up on Facebook! Fair play to me.ā
Didnāt heā¦: This is a trick where you turn whatever your main point is into a question. I think itās for emphasis, because youāre not expected to answer. You might not even know the answer. āWe were walking back from the second pub, and didnāt your man fall right down the hill?ā
Ah sure: Thrown in front of things every once in a while, for good measure. āObama says āYes we can,ā Irish politicians say āAh sure, weāll think about it and get back to you in a week.āā (Direct quoteāthis was not me. I would never confuse Obama with Bob the Builder.)
Thanks be to God: Peppers the speech of Irish people of a certain generation. Gaelic speakers tended to say āThanks be to Godā (it is somewhat shorter in Gaelic) frequently, and I think the tendency translated into English. āItās cold but itās not wet, thanks be to God.ā
*The nun in question was fond of cigarettes.