Foolishly I entered the US under the impression that a phrase book was not neccesary to communicate with the Southern folk I’d be encountering. My Paddy accent has caused wrinkled brows and vacant eyes in the vast majority of places I have set foot in.
A bun is not a bun, chips are not chips, garages are not garages, a trolley receives blank expressions, and a rubber does not remove pencil marks. My American just isn’t up to scratch.
Language barrier aside I have to admit Texas is an amazing place. Having been to California twice before I expected to feel isolated during the day, counting the minutes until my best friend returns from her hectic day but it has been a breeze finding my way around from mall to mall, concert to concert and back again. In my short stay here I have managed to introduce L to her neighbours who she has managed to go nine months without ever meeting and have befriended a sassy lady bus driver who manages to smack a smile on my face everyday I go wandering. The people here are uber friendly and will go out of there way to help in any way they can, people even pull over when they see me walking back from the mall nearby with shopping bags to see if I need a “ride”. I really have been blown away by the way people relate to eachother here along with their love of all things big and while it resonates throughout their everyday lives it’s the big personalities I really admire. The glass is half full here and that rubs off on others pretty quickly.
We may give out about Americans, and I include myself in that, but they have alot to offer a stuck-in-the-mud Irish girl in recapturing her sense of self even if they can’t understand a word I’m saying half the time.
