Still getting settled but I've moved most all of Tales from Otherland there. So I won't be occupying this corner of the web anymore.
Monday, November 5, 2012
When I started this blog the goal was to document my experience living in Ireland but I got derailed in the mission and began sharing some of my memories. I enjoyed reflecting on certain things in my life and even sharing. This is not much of an expat blog at all. After some ruminating, I’d like this blog to be a place where I can share memories but then I had this thought: What if I could have other folks share their memories--from other lands. I need to do a lot of cleaning around this joint but the posts from me from this point on will most likely be memories and maybe I’d offer a peek at what I do that keeps me away from TfO.
Regular readers: what brought you here and what keeps you coming back? What would you like to see me do with this space? I’d really like to know your thoughts.
Posted by Erika at 9:23 PM
Monday, September 24, 2012
We southerners are courteous and respectful people. Others might construe our norms to be mired in insincerity. Please understand; subtlety and nuance are part of our vernacular. There are matters that are more delicate and require a sense of decorum. I am referring specifically to the ladies’ room, powder room or restroom. Though we know exactly what is in the ladies’ room, we prefer language that might evoke genteel imagery.
I met my sister from another mister for dinner at one of my favorite spots in the ATL. After a fantastic evening, I had shocked myself, as well as our waitress, when I asked, “Where are the toilets?”
|The place of unthinkable acts|
"What?" Her tone was filled with aversion. She regarded me as if the request were that of debauched perversion. I was sorry that I had subjected her with the impropriety of my request. I quickly recovered from my verbal misstep.
“Where is the ladies’ room?”
What else had I picked up in Ireland?
It begins with the little phrases heard among the locals. You delight in the way they say, “You’re grand” and privately repeat it with the same lilt. “Yer man” (or woman) has replaced “Your boy” (or girl). In secret you say all the Irish things you’ve heard—like pronouncing the “H” in herbs. At some point these intrigues come to light. You ask for a thermo-meter and stand in queues at the market. You go to the toilet because you don’t know what a loo is and the restroom is imprecise. You are confident those things will remain on the little island. However, they stow away in your subconscious--waiting to be revealed as you reacquaint yourself with old customs. It is only then you realize living abroad has changed you...a little.