I’m not exactly an adherent to all things Ireland. I despise our deeply embedded culture of alcoholism, I’m not proud of our State’s relationship with the Church, and I’ve never embraced education of the Irish language. I don’t listen to Traditional music, I grew up with an unexplainable hatred of Michael Flatley, and I feel unclean just walking past Carroll’s, the infamous peddler of tacky “Irish” souvenirs. I never even learned the rules of any of the Gaelic games. Yet I love my country. For all it’s flaws, for all it’s culture that I fail to identify with, I’m proud of where I’m from.
Now, a strange thing happens to a person living away from home.
