The Good, the Bad, and the Bizarre

I've always held a fascination with Ireland. I must've been around the age of 12 when my ears heard the words "Ireland" and "Irish" often—in what situations, I don't recall. To be honest, it was the sound of these words that appealed to me. Yes, "Ireland" and "Irish." An odd reason to start liking a culture. But when you're a weird pre-teen developing a love for the sound of language, it's easy to be influenced.

Then I began to notice how a number of Irish surnames begin with an "O," followed by a cute tail of an apostrophe. Scarlett O'Hara was the first. When I read Gone with the Wind in eighth grade, I completely admired Miss O'Hara's steadfast character, though frankly I probably shouldn't have given a damn.

My interest in the language aspect of Ireland doesn't stop there. I began adoring the Irish accent. Also known as brogue, this type of dialect can be heard by Colin Ferrell, Neil Jordan's The Butcher Boy, and imprecisely done by actors in some films. I'll bask in glory on the day when I master this Hiberno-English and be able to say, "How are ya, me lass? Don't ye ferget to find me a fine lad now, ye hear?"

So, on St. Paddy's Day last week, I was excited that I'd get to be Irish. Perhaps too excited, for my fingers ached to pinch people who wore no shade of emerald. But I restrained myself. I had to reserve my energy for practicing my Irish accent.

I love Ireland, not particularly for its celebratory drinking every Mar. 17, its wonderful exports U2, Enya, and Halloween, or its limericks and leprechauns,—although these do make me fancy it more. No, my interest in the country is rooted in its very words—its name, its surnames, its dialects.

Some might say this is good. Many would think it bizarre. Yet, it shouldn't be something bad. After all, I've become fond of Ireland for its other aspects as well, such as the ones just mentioned.

In the U.S., where remnants of racism still pop up now and then, it's admirable for people to take interest in other cultures. One of my favorite professors taught in Thailand for two years and has mastered about 70 percent of the Thai language. I've also seen two Caucasian people speak Vietnamese fluently—and trust me, Vietnamese is a damn difficult language. For me, it's the Irish I've chosen to fascinate myself with.

One day, I will visit the country. Hopefully, the people I meet are not those who are easily irked. In other words, let Ireland not be the land of the ire, please. If it is, I'll never love a country for its words again.