Where I’m from may well be who I am

8 Sep

I found this group on Facebook. It’s called “You know you live in the West of Ireland when…”. I think It should be “You know you’re from the West of Ireland when…” because although I don’t live there anymore (and haven’t really for the past thirteen or so years) I can still see myself in there. With all of the quirks of nature identified as being from there.

You know you live in the West of Ireland when…..

You rarely get stuck in traffic unless you go to Galway or you get stuck behind cattle.

You are aware that we have some of the most beautiful beaches in the world and when the sun does come out…what do you do.. paint the house, mo the lawn, go to work.. etc

You know the chances of you having the same top as the girl down the road is quite high as everyone goes to Dunnes!!

You are aware that we are probably the only place in the world that has an international airport the size of a house, but you like it that way coz it only takes 5 minutes to check in!

The sheep think they own the road..

You have had the ‘things are tightening up or the Celtic tiger has gone’ conversation with older relatives on more than one occasion, but you sleep safely in your bed at night knowing that it never helped YOU get rich so it certainly won’t effect you.

You wish RTÉ would discuss something other then Bertie and the Mahon Tribunal..

You avoid going to Londis, Centra, Supervalu at 1pm as the deli is full of tradesmen getting their daily fix of their salad/Jumbo breakfast roll!

It is completely acceptable for your work colleague to take a day off because the AI man is coming.

You have sang, danced, or head bopped to ‘Maniac 2000’ and in more recent times ‘The Galway Girl’

At least one of your friends has been travelling or has lived in Australia.

You slow down when you see a white ford focus in the distance for fear it might be the Gardai!!

It has now become the ritual to go for a Chinese or a Supermacs after going on a night out.

At least five of your friends live in Dublin.

Your neighbours still offer you tea even when its 30 degrees outside.

You know people who use words/sentences like ‘galavanting’ ‘courting’ or ‘doing a line’.

Your mother would get more excited to hear you say you were going to mass then if she won the lottery.

You know at least one person who has built their own house.

You know certain roads have bad pot holes, but you just learn to memorise exactly where they are so you can drive around them without thinking twice.

It is the only place in the world where it is completely acceptable to answer an awkward question with ‘ara sure now’. But deep down you know that mean absolutely nothing!

No one says ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’.. its ‘Well’ and ‘Good Luck’.

Its an offence to leave the emursion on

You all love Des Bishop and Tommy Tiernan.

You wish everything you bought was three euros cheaper.

You drink tea, tea, tea, tea, tea even in hot weather, and complain about how tea doesn’t taste as good anywhere else in the world.

You hope that when you ring WEST DOC with a medical emergency that you aren’t going to die as their response to you will always be ‘I’ll ring you back in a minute’!!

You could go on holiday for a week and leave your front door unlocked and there’s a good chance all your worldly possessions will still be there on your return.

You have mumbled along with Sé do bheatha, a Mhuire(Hail Mary at mass), and tried to remember all the words to Amhrán na bhFiann.. but deep down you know you are crap.

You spend all year bitching about the government, the HSE, the price of diesel, and the price of ‘rip off Ireland’ in general, and when the place fills up with holiday makers in June, July and August.. you do nothing but defend the country!!

You sleep safely at night knowing that for all its good and bad points..You couldn’t imagine living anywhere else…

Now I do live somewhere else. And have lived in other places for quite a long time. But it’s strange to think how much of who I am is linked to where I was brought up. And I wonder about my little turtle.  He’ll  be American, or Irish-American, but he won’t have roots in any particular place. We’ll be moving all over the country at least every four years, but probably more frequently.  So his sense of self will not be as linked to a sense of place as clearly as mine or the hubby’s.  Unless I get to work on cultivating his “Oirishness” quick smart. We’re off to a good start – toe-tapping to “Diddly eye-dle” music, although I think that might be genetic rather than environmental!


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