Dichotomies

There's a fine line between living in a place and visiting it. The first week I was here I crept through Shop street, fearful that the embroidered logo on my rain jacket would mark me as American. The flash of the camera which captured my first Irish Guinness mortified me in the dark pub. It's become easier to speak out loud in the street, and I've finally allowed myself to wander into the gift shop and browse idley through shamrocked shot glasses, but I'm always keenly aware that I am American. I may not be here for the three hour tour which locals assume when they see me in a pub, but I am not and will never be a local. My flatmate likes to imitate my accent and I still feel the need to emphasize that Seattle is very, very far from the Jersey Shore. Day-to-day, though, I try to blend in. I buy my food at Tesco and pretend I'm not really excited every time I pass the swans on my way to school.

On weekend excursions, all of that goes out the window. I climb into tour coaches and listen to the drivers explain to me the process of cutting peat out of the bog. I go everywhere with a camera around my wrist and I'm very disappointed every time and Irish-speaker answers my mangled "dia duit!" with a deflated "hello." To date, we've been to Dublin, An Cheathrú Rua, and Inishmore (details to follow) and it's difficult not to be impressed, and attempt to soak everything in. The stereotypical tourist, with neon fanny pack and Hawai'an shirt (not to be confused with my friend Minn, when she's feeling quirky) is blinkered by their own expectations, but I think that the "purer" tourist just wants to learn and experience. When I'm on a group tour, my cover is blown and the pressure to be blasé falls away — I can take cheesy pictures and peruse tourist shops. I bought a bag at the Guinness Storehouse and a sweater on the Aran Islands, and am resolute that I shall not be ashamed. It is a very warm sweater.

Back in Galway, I know that every time I open my mouth (and probably before that) I am revealed as an American, but I'm starting not to feel seperate. I've a favorite pub and a favorite draught beer that isn't Guinness. I'm making Irish friends and I'm preparing for the mundanity of paper-writing 5,000 miles from Willamette. I don't say that I'm visiting. I'm studying here. I'm living here. For the next few months, I'm American by way of Galway.