My wife and I love watching Brit Box. The app streams television shows that originate in Britain. Brit box, get it…only took me a month. It is full of one of my favorite type of shows, British murder mysteries. I know, I know, they are all the same. Very little variation but for some reason I love them. They murder people in the most proper way. That’s the Brits for ya.
There is one issue, understanding the actors on these shows. George Bernard Shaw is credited for proclaiming Britain and the United States are, “Two countries separated by a common language.” He couldn’t be more correct. Thank God for subtitles. One of those new options on our “Smart” TVs is the ability to turn on closed captioning (subtitles). I wouldn’t be able to watch some of my favorite shows without them. They also come in handy due to my hearing loss. Excuse me, my wife is yelling at me. I think she’s telling me I need to get some lemonade. No, wait, oh, hearing aids. Aw, I don’t need them. That would mean I have to pay attention when someone is talking to me. The less of that the better.
I am writing this article while visiting Ireland, the home of my ancestors. It is a beautiful country, the people could not be friendlier and where the hell can I turn on the subtitles? If I’m lucky, I will understand one of every fourth word. This could be a serious problem. I just can’t pretend I understand them and then just do what I want. That may work with my wife but if I need precise directions somewhere, I need to know every word. That happened to me the last time I was here and it lead to a confrontation with a “Ram” on a dirt road in the middle of a large open field. We were suppose to be in downtown Sligo. When I asked the Ram for directions it was useless. I couldn’t understand a word he brayed.
Ireland is introducing their original “Irish” language to the population. Which means, there are times they are speaking a completely different language but who would notice. I love Ireland and I want to come back again. We’ll have to see how the election goes. I should learn how to speak Irish. I will be able to read all of the street signs, and I won’t be able to understand the people in two languages.
There are many immigrants here in Ireland, and English is their second language, and they are easier to understand than the Irish natives.
This just reaffirms my belief that we will soon have universal translators, just like Star Trek. Everyone will have a device that will translate whatever language the other person is speaking to you. Wouldn’t that be great. I could finally understand what someone from Maine is saying…oh yea, and other foreign languages.
There is one way to fix it, a visit to Blarney Castle to kiss the Blarney Stone. There is a centuries old tradition that if you kiss the stone, you will receive the gift of gab…or as we call it in the states, the gift of BS. My wife was game, and a lot more flexible, and gave it a go. She hung backwards over the edge of the highest wall in the ruined castle and gave it a big old kiss. For a moment I thought she was going to give it a hickey. I passed on the opportunity due to several reasons. The fear of heights, I’m already full of blarney, according to everyone I know, and if I ever bent over that far backwards I would never get back up.
Did the trip up the treacherous castle steps make it easier to understand the locals? No, but we were better at pretending we could and then give some incoherent answer in response. They seemed as if they understood us, so win-win.
What I should do is develop an app to learn Irish. Not the language but the muttering that comes out of their mouths. It will teach you to smile and nod as if you understand them, and then you say, “Have a pint of Guinness with me,” and all will be grand. Now I just need to work on an app to translate sheep.
bbriley.net 