Two weeks ago, a woman from New Jersey approached me in The Spaniard, a pub and restaurant in Kinsale, Ireland.
"You look Irish," she said, "but you sound American."
"That's easily explained," I answered.
All eight of my great-grandparents emigrated from Cork and Kerry to the United States during the late 19th century. Over there, I'm an ethnic stereotype: a burly fellow with thick white hair wearing a collarless blue shirt from a local shop. Everybody looks like my cousin.
Frankly, we'd decided to spend time in Kinsale, a fishing port and resort town on Ireland's southern coast, to try it on for size. When we'd visited there 10 years ago, I'd felt very much at home. If push came to shove, how might it feel to live there?