Deciphering Languages

Sitting at Kate Kearney Cottage Pub for lunch we listened to three men at the bar.

Gaeilge.  They were speaking the old Irish language, Gaeilge.  We only understood ‘fuck’ or some variable of it (fucking, fuck off, etc.).

We waited in line for the ATM behind another Camino hiker.  She started to rant in German, stomp her feet and grabbed her cash from the dispenser.  In all that German we understood one word, ‘fuck.’

One day I heard my mom laugh.  She was sitting in her ‘Mom chair’ reading.  “Listen to this,” she said.  “The word ‘fuck’ comes from London.  When they arrested prostitutes the reason they wrote in their log books was ‘for unlawful carnal knowledge’ which was abbreviated to f.u.c.k.

She told me this fifty years ago, which makes it an antique statement and thus true.

We’ve been to Portugal, Spain, Greece,and now Ireland.  And if I include additional languages spoken by salespersons, Camino hikers, other tourists, and fellow travelers at international airports, it’s been both a delight and a strain for my ears.

I’m ashamed to know only English and it’s aviation variable Phraseology.  It’s not that I haven’t tried to learn another language, I’m not a complete slug, but after my head injury eons ago, I can barely recall my English words in conversation.

Europe has been wonderful.  It’s full of history, amazing people, individual country pride and yet compassion for others that are different.  Which leads me to the next thing I’d like to comment about.  Every person, every one we’ve met that’s asked where we’re from, without fail have said they are sorry we have Trump.

For unlawful carnal knowledge.