A/N this is really mindless, fluff that i was forced to write for American Lit. I'm figuring you can guess who it is in this story and if you can't well i'm not gonna tell you because someone has obviously hit you with the stupid stick. BTW my gaelic is...well TERRIBLE! But the translations are at the bottom for you all.

Of all the places he could've met me, he had to pick a museum. Not only was it a museum, that alone made me wonder if it

was such a good idea to come here, it had to be one that had confusing directions to get to from the airport. How I managed to

get lost within an hour of arriving here I will never know. Maybe it's because of all of the people, maybe it's because of the

beautiful architecture, maybe it's just because of all these damned confusing streets, but I know for certain that the street I am

on is a far cry from where I'm supposed to be. I sigh deeply and look up and down the street at the colorful houses. Unlike the

houses in America, the ones here are bold with their colors, using ones such as turquoise and emerald. That was one of my first

thoughts when I got off the plane here, that it was very green. I glance up from my position on the street corner, to the sign

above me and try to understand what it says. Eventually I give up trying to decipher it and walk down the street to find

someone who could help me. Finally I see an old woman walking through the front gate of her house and stop to ask her for


"Excuse me?" I say, and she turns around only to give me a strange look. Which is when it dawns on me that she didn't speak

English. She turns around to continue her way home and I realize that I'm going to have to speak her language. 'Why not? She

can probably tell I'm American, it's practically written all over me.'

"Gabh mo leithscéal?" I ask her, only this time, she responds with

"Is ea anois, an bhféadaim cúnamh leat iníon?"

It takes me a minute to translate what she's said to me, and then another minute to figure out how to tell her what's wrong. She

waits patiently, with a smile on her face before I finally respond.

"Caillte duine mé. Céard an tsráid músaem ar?" I ask, fully aware of how horrible I sounded speaking her language. I half

expect her to spit in my face and then run the rest of the way to her house. Instead she speaks slowly and gives me directions

to the museum. Turns out, I was only a few blocks off. After writing down what she told me on a gum wrapper I pulled out of

my pocket, I turn and smile at her, and say the one thing I know for sure won't sound horribly awkward coming out of my


"Go raibh míle maith agat," to which she replies

"Níla bhuíochas ort, caìlín," before she turns and walks to her front door. I watch her as she walks into her brightly colored

home, and then I turn and walk back the way I came. At last I reach the museum, "Ionùin" he says with the biggest smile on

his face. He grabs my hand before leading me back down the stairs towards the street and I know that everything- the plane

ticket, the expensive hotel room, even getting lost- was worth it.

1 Excuse Me

2 Yes, can I help you miss?

3 I am lost, what street is the museum on?

4 Thank-you very much

5 You're Welcome, lass

6 Beloved