On learning Irish

I learned some Irish from my grandmother, and studied Gaelic league Irish on my own. Then I tried all the tapes, from Buntas cainte to God knows what. Learned to say there are eels in my hovercraft. Not a useful phrase. Better than the donkeys and goats phrases. Then I took a summer immersion course on modern Irish at UC Berkeley. I have never worked harder in my life, some of it stuck, most of it fled, screaming for its life. Sometimes, if the wind blows right, I can actually read Irish. But God help me if I have to speak it, or worse, understand it if spoken to me. I can however bibble-babble niceties when pressed. I can even fool enough people into thinking I speak fluent Irish. I also took the year of ancient Irish where we translated the medieval Epics. I was lousy at it but I loved it. I remember the moment when I translated Cuchulain saying the enemy of your enemy is my friend. Goosebumps on my arms the size of mountains.