At the beginning of my year abroad, I thought my English would improve a lot; that after nine months in Ireland, nobody would be able to tell me apart from a native speaker.
At least, that was the story I told myself.
My English level was already pretty decent before coming to Galway. I consumed a lot of English media and attended university courses taught in English. So once I was fully immersed in an English-speaking environment, I thought my terrible German accent would disappear too.
Well, I’ve now spent almost six months in Ireland, and people still start conversations with: “Oh, where are you from?”
I even got strange compliments like: “Your accent doesn’t sound that German!”
I was weirdly proud when I heard that. I sometimes get the impression that when native English speakers think of German, they picture aggressive men screaming and spitting out harsh words so long they could be entire sentences. I won’t elaborate on how poetical German can be, even though I’m sometimes tempted to, because I hated my accent, too.
I hated that the way my brain wanted the words to sound was not the way my mouth produced them. I hated that my tongue stumbled over the Ws and Rs. I hated that I got confused when switching from German to English, and sometimes even from English to German.
That was only in the first few months, though. Over time, my pronunciation improved. Still, you could clearly tell that I wasn’t Irish. No matter how often I said “grand”.
One evening, I was taking a late bus home, exhausted from a long day. And no, even though I’m also tempted to, this text is not about how absolutely awful the Irish bus system is. I’m from Germany, I’m used to the ‘DeutscheBahn’. I’m already desensitised.
No, this text is about an eye-opening conversation with a bus driver.
I had a real culture shock when I came here and realised that most of the Irish bus drivers are nice. They are friendly. The first time a bus driver said goodbye and wished me a good evening, I ran home and immediately called my family to tell them about this miracle. I was so surprised because German bus drivers are the grumpiest species of human you could ever think of.
I remember the superiority of that one girl in primary school whose grandfather was our school bus driver. She was the only one treated kindly by that grey-haired man who never smiled. The rest of us were more afraid of school bus drivers than of monsters in our wardrobes – so that was a huge cultural difference for me when I came to Galway.
Almost as confusing as figuring out in which situations you’re actually supposed to give an honest answer to “How are you?”. Definitely not when you’re passing a stranger on Shop Street. Believe me, I’ve tried.
Back to that evening – The bus was almost empty and it had to wait a while in Oranmore. The driver was very bored or very social or both, and he started talking to me. Of course, there it was: the inevitable “Where are you from?”.
“I’m from Germany”, I sighed. And then I let all my frustration out. I told him that I hated having an accent, especially a German one.
“Well, I have an accent myself. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that”, the bus driver said. When I asked him where he was from, he just formed an eagle with his hands, which, for all the people like me who don’t get it, symbolises Albania. And because I was in the mood for late-night philosophy, I asked him about his opinion on accents.
“Your accent shows your history”, he said. “People can tell that you’re from Germany, yes. But you can be proud of that!”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to be proud of being German…”, I interrupted. I didn’t want this conversation to go into an entirely wrong direction.
“It’s not about nationalism”, he said. “It’s about the fact that you are right now speaking a language that isn’t your native one. That you managed to learn it so well that you are now living your entire life in English. Your accent shows that you’ve mastered some challenges to end up here.”
I thought about that for a while. It’s not only that I’m actually using knowledge from school by speaking English, it’s about the whole Erasmus experience. Why did I focus on the only thing that bothered me about myself?
Erasmus is a fun and exciting experience, sure. But let’s not forget that we can be proud of ourselves for daring to take this step. Leaving our familiar environment, our family and friends, our home country. Being open for a different culture and for people from all around the world. My accent tells that story.
And, as a friend pointed out, I already have a great small-talk topic. One that isn’t the usual complaining about the Irish weather. So next time someone asks me where I’m from, I’ll say “Germany” without shame. And then, I’ll probably spend the next ten minutes explaining that the German public transport system is just as awful as the Irish buses.
Probably worse, although nobody ever believes that!
