Lost in Translation- Part 1
Whenever
you go anywhere new, there will always be phrases or words that don’t mean the
same thing as they did back home. In Maryland it was the addition of the word
Highway to many of the roads, Highway 95 for example rather than just calling
it 95, or if it were an interstate it would be I-95. I learned about fresh seafood and crab and that crabs have something called “the mustard” which although
it resembles mustard in color does not in any way taste like it.
 |
Getting crabby in Maryland! |
In turn, I
taught them words like “befuckered” which is what one becomes if there is no
hope of fixing whatever mistake you made, and Gooey Buttercake, a delicious
baked treat from my hometown of St.Louis.
Moving to Ireland was no different
in that regard, except there are specific words that mean something completely
different than they do in the states. The one that immediately comes to mind is
the one associated with those awful waist purses also colloquially known as
“Fanny packs” in the US. Here in Ireland a woman’s fanny is not in the back,
but in the front and therefore is a “bad word.” So these little leather sacks
of embarrassment are fondly called “bum bags” here. Because the misuse of a word can cause some
serious embarrassment I’ve begun to create a glossary of terms for friends and
family who will be visiting us. This guide includes driving tips,
eating/interesting foods, and essential information much of which I’ll be
sharing on here as well. For now we’ll
stick with words and the embarrassment they can bring.
Over here, you do not ask someone if
they “want a ride,” meaning do they want to hop in your car to get where they’re
going. Asking someone if they want a ride is akin to propositioning them, so
imagine my fit of giggles when Matt asked the Hunt’s kennelman if he needed a
ride. This caused exceptional hilarity because, one he just propositioned
someone, and second he asked a man in front of his wife. I fell into a similar
situation later at the pub (not bar!) when I wanted to know if someone would be
on horseback for an event. Another hunt member knowing I stumble on this on a
regular basis encouraged me to ask him if he would be “riding that day” which I
promptly did much to the glee of everyone at the table. Later I learned I
should have asked him if he would be mounted that day, but back home the only
thing that is mounted is an animal in heat or the deer you just shot, so that
term seems silly to me because of what it means back home. But I’m sure me asking someone if they want a
ride in my car sounds just as silly to them!
 |
This is who Matt offered a ride to. Don't think he'll ever take him up on it |
One of the terms that caused
greatest confusion for me was when we began raising puppies and I was told what
many of the puppy walkers feed the puppies… Meat scraps and puppy nuts. My
response went a bit like, “NUTS?!?! Excuse me? What kind of nuts, almonds,
cashews, pecans? Are there nuts over here specifically for puppies? I know my
in-laws feed their dogs bull nuts when they’re turning the bulls into steers,
but that’s only a once a year thing. How do you get so many to feed puppies
over a number of months? Wait, you feed your horses nuts too?!?!?” Eventually
someone showed me what their puppy nuts looked like (yes, I feel ridiculous
just writing that…and giggled a bit). Kibble, they mean KIBBLE! Now I’ve got
it! Our puppies grew very well on scraps
and nuts. In fact my adorable chubby puppy Lester weighed over 50lbs by the
time he was 7 months old and although he was a bit chubby, he also had a nice
large frame. Lap Dance (did I mention the Irish have a wicked sense of humor?)
my other puppy weighed nearly as much but was a bit more petit so she was just
a pig.
 |
My puppies who loved their nuts |
When I first arrived to Ireland I
was looking for a couple stores and was told to go to the Zebra (pronounced
Zeh-brah) crossing and the shop should be on my left. My first impression is
what is a Zeh-brah? Quickly followed by, “Why do they need a crossing area?”
when I realized she meant zebra. I had
heard about this cool place called Fota Island where the animals are close
enough you can nearly touch them, but didn’t think it was anywhere near Bandon
so why do you need a zebra crossing in town? Because that is what she called
the cross walk. Since they’re black and white striped they earned the nick-name
zebra crossing. Cute!
 |
This is what I pictured as a zebra crossing |
Recently Matt and I decided to move houses. The house we first moved into was great as a first place because
it was close to everything in the suburbs, but it really was not us. We enjoy a
bit more space and open ground before us and particularly enjoy having horses
and other livestock. Ok, I like having the livestock and Matt is resigned on
the horses. Another couple years and I’m sure I’ll wear him down enough to love
the horses as much as I do. But this means we needed to find a place where we
could keep horses. When such a place came up I was telling co-workers about it
and how it’s a bit out in the country. One of our co-workers asked if it had
any “outhouses” to which I responded, “No, but it has 3 full bathrooms!”
Everyone started laughing. Turns out, outhouse is another way of saying
shed/barn/outbuilding. I was told that sometimes they’re even called
out-offices. I was sure he was asking me if we had any outdoor toilets not if
we had a barn on the property.
 |
The side of my outhouse/stable |
Another word that has a completely
different meaning is “pissed.” In America if someone is pissed it means they’re
very angry whereas in Ireland it just means they’re drunk. There is more than
one way to use this term. People can be “on the piss” which means they’ve gone
off and gotten drunk, and while you’re drunk you’re pissed. When we first got
here I was amazed at how many people got angry on weekends and couldn’t
understand why weekends brought that sort of feeling out in people until I
learned it just meant they had a bit too much to drink. That makes much more sense!
 |
Getting pissed at the Muskerry Hunt Ball! |
Once it started getting colder
people asked if I had some nice jumpers. To me, a jumper was something I wore
in grade school which looked like two vertical sashes that covered my
non-existant boobs attached to a skirt. So, no I’ve never had a nice jumper and even if I did, why would I bring such
an odd article with me? This type of dress was usually reserved for middle
school aged children at catholic schools so there is no way I’d fit in it now!
Do they make bigger ones? I know I’ve seen onsies in adult size, but a jumper?
Ohhhhhh! You mean a Sweater! Over
here a jumper could be a sweater or a coat. My favorite is the ever present
“Christmas jumper” which shows up at random bars and work parties around
Christmas time and is the Irish equivalent of the “Ugly Christmas Sweater”. I’m
thrilled that they embrace this sort of self-deprecation and will probably join
in next year because who doesn’t love running around in the ugliest sweater,
oppps, I mean jumper you can find? I know I do! The uglier the sweater the
better! It’s just good fun and maybe we can all get pissed in our jumpers? Now
doesn’t that sound odd?