I’m Welsh first, British second.
This has proved a valuable asset
while travelling abroad, in more ways than one. Being bilingual helps in the
assimilation of different languages, in my case, French and German.
As a
student, cursing while hauling my oversized luggage across Germany, I
was mistaken for a bad-tempered Bavarian. (Must have been the Welsh overtones.)
I’ve had interesting conversations with Bretons, comparing words similar in
both languages. Welsh came in handy in Egypt to baffle the irritating ‘want a
taxi, ride in a horse-drawn cart?’ pests in Luxor. A cheery ‘shwd maen mynd?’
How’s it going? followed by a word-perfect recital of
Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch
and
instruction to husband and sons not to utter a word of English soon saw them
off.
Persistent time- share sellers in Spain tried their best to decipher my
measured rendition of Welsh hymns. Finally, I was rumbled. ‘I know what you
are’ yelled one wide- boy as he sped away on his scooter: -
‘You’re sheep……s!’
Luckily, both sons were too young to understand.
