Dun Laoghaire and American Tourists

Yesterday, I went to Dun Laoghaire (pronounced dun leery), a seaside town just outside of Dublin city proper. The town was, as I put it at one point, "what Disney World had in mind when they created the Boardwalk resort". The houses and buildings were the definition of quaint, and hundreds of Irish families were out on the pier, walking their dogs, letting their kids ride bikes and scooters, or just strolling.

We stopped at a farmer's market in town, where there were about two dozen stands full of crafts, produce, and local food and treats. We sampled bread and fudge, and gawked at the array of calorific goodies that all looked equally appetizing. In the end, I treated myself to a scoop of apple-cinnamon sorbet, and it was positively delightful.

The weather was downright bizarre. We left the apartment in the rain; by the time we got to the bus stop it was sunny. We arrived at Dun Laoghaire in the rain, went to the farmer's market in the sun, downpour, then sun again. At one point, the wind gusted so ferociously that a stand in the farmer's market turned over entirely.

The day itself was wonderful, but the whole day, my mind wandered back to the train ride there. While we were on our way to Dun Laoghaire, I overheard a man speaking - with a Southern drawl. As it happened, he was also trying to get to Dun Laoghaire, and was asking others on the train for help. When they told him which stop to get off at, he stared at the map in amazement, and then laughed, saying "I didn't see no dun-leery on this map anywhichway!" He then proceeded to talk to this Irish couple for the duration of the trip, talking about how great public transportation is in the United States, although from his experience, people in Boston or New York love to take limousines and taxis. The couple was polite but really had nothing to contribute, only pausing now and again to tell him how many stops he had left.

I'm not entirely sure why, but I was embarrassed for this man. He was the epitome of the American tourist - backpack, map in hand, utterly lost and entirely attached to his home culture. I hoped at several points on the journey that he wouldn't hear us speaking and start talking to us as fellow Americans.

I know it's unfair for me to be so judgmental; after all, he's on vacation for a few weeks and I'm trying to live here for months. It's more important for me to assimilate into Irish society. But at the same time, I know that that Irish couple left the train with that impression of what Americans are like.

I hope to change at least some people's perceptions of Americans while I'm here, for the better.