Letter from Ireland, pt 4

Visitors bring with them their "Americanness". If I were Irish-Hungarian, I suppose they would be bringing their "Hungarianness". Their presence blurs the distinctiveness of my experience. I am rotten, selfish, insecure. I don't want to share my experience. [I've already posted on jealousies of foreign experience.] Mostly, it's insecurity: Family and friends bring their definitions of me with them, and I have felt a bit like an actor for so long, in always secretly being a bit off or out of place, that now, when I am at home in my own skin, I am both resentful of having to live up to any expectation, and also insecure, about showing some other self.

Other insecurities: I observe Americans in any foreign locale, and I want to emphasize my difference from them, sort of like when a teenager suffers embarrassment about his family. Certain behaviors stand out that make me want to cringe. But overwhelmingly, the one consistent theme, spoken or implied, that emanates from virtually every visitor, is skepticism. Skepticism about what I am doing: Living away from America. Because no place can equal America, in any way. Skepticism that Irish smells, food, transportation, politics, sports, climate, whathaveyou; all of this in total is, however Romantic, ultimately suspect. Nice place to visit, wouldn't want to . . .

A conflict for me: I do want to entertain. After all, Ireland is my heart's enthusiasm, and I'd like to share it. I want to reveal the best face of Dublin, the best of the whole country. Especially since I am living here, and guests can't hide curiosity over what lured me here away from the greatest country on earth. From . . . AMERICA, where EVERYONE wants to be. Right?

So what happens? Frankly, I am not interested in your critical observations that too often sound like complaints. Yes, the air smells different. Yes, the beef tastes different. Yes, the cars and roads are different, the people smell different. Where did you think you were visiting, Cleveland?

And come, you don't really mean different, do you? You mean worse than . . . But the absolute limit is that some of this attitude is implied. Insinuated. you don't want to be downright rude. After all, I am living here. Moreover, you don't want to appear ignorant, or inexperienced, or unsophisticated. So you make comments with your nose wrinkled up, instead of making outright criticisms. But along with that is the insinuation, the comment on me. "Why are you here?"

Every insight you make on the locals presupposes my agreement, or fishes for it. In that shadow world of tacit communication, we know each other.

I feel good about recognizing your baffled irritation when it dawns on you that I am not in agreement with your assumptions. About Ireland, and maybe about . . . What else!? I understand the irritation. And, you are right. I'll say it: I am in a state of rejection. But, I'm in a state of denial no longer.

tbc.