When a cupla focal beats the Bearla

Elaine Larkin discovers a renewed appreciation for the Irish language while travelling around south-east Asia

The toast "Sláinte" can be heard from many Irish people around the world accompanying the clink of glasses. However, for many of Ireland's current generation of backpackers, the use of the Irish language goes much further.

Instead of being the subject we once hated as schoolchildren and saw no future use for, Irish is now one of the most valuable items to put on a traveller's "to bring" checklist. In the last year I have spent out of Ireland I have heard more people speaking Irish than in the weeks preceding Irish oral exams. Irish has been embraced by myself and fellow Irish people travelling abroad, all of varying fluency.

In south-east Asia my travel companion, Sharon Commins, from Dublin, and I, found Irish a good way to avoid being robbed, ripped off or bored to death. Simple sayings like bí cúramach (be careful), dainséar (danger), féach ar do mhála (watch your bag), and siúl go tapidh (walk fast) were vital to warn each other when we thought less than savoury characters were out to get us. On 12-hour minibus journeys cooped up with other tourists, Irish was the way to get our own back on those speaking French, German and Swedish.

If they could have their secret language, we reasoned we could too. If we didn't have the vocabulary, we talked around the subject until we knew what the other meant or just put an "ig" sound onto the end of the word to make it sound Irish. We made Irish our first language, so much so that, with the amount of broken English we spoke in an effort to make locals and foreigners understand us, our Irish was probably better than our English.

On arrival in Sydney, Australia our need to speak Irish diminished initially. Sharon, who had no need to use Irish since her Leaving Certificate six years previously, actually said she missed it and wanted to start talking in Irish more again. Unfortunately, living in Bondi or Co Bondi as it is known because of its strong Irish community, the one thing you don't do is start talking Irish, when the person you're talking about probably understands every word you're saying.

Living with Irish people, who vary from ex-pupils of an all-Irish school to third-level Irish graduates, it's amazing how Irish creeps into everyday conversations. Sometimes it's easier to say things like slán (goodbye), cén t-am é (what time is it), siúcra (sugar), uisce (water), más é do thoil é (please), cé leis é (who owns this) and is liomsa é (I own it).

Irish is also used in the secret language of love, and one Irishman told me he only ever uses Irish if he wants to tell his friends that a girl is good looking. Female friends have told me how they will use Irish to describe a good looking man in the street, with just two simple words - go h-álainn (lovely).

Travelling in Australia my company included many different nationalities and many Irish. One of the Irish women, Niamh Ní Mhaoilealla is from a Gaeltacht area, Tour Mhic Eadaigh (Tourmakeady) in Co Mayo, and speaking Irish at any time - and not as part of a covert operation - was quite common. As Niamh put it, the one thing she didn't want to gain from a year abroad was the loss of her Irish. This didn't go down too well with some of the non-Irish speaking people we encountered. They became paranoid that the strange words they were hearing were about them, and at times they were right.

Irish cannot be used by everyone, though. Other Irish people won't use it if the rest of their group of friends are non-Irish. But having used it so much with Irish people in the last year, it can be frustrating if you need to have a conversation immediately, and don't want other people to understand. If you can't say it in English and no one understands Irish, sometimes you can't say it at all.