I've got a Mid-Western American accent, about the easiest accent in the world to understand if you speak English, but since I live in such a homogenous area, I'm not too good at understanding people from far off. I do alright with most of the British isles accents, but anyone speaking English as a second language has to speak it well or I'll just get lost in the middle of every sentence. It's really annoying, and makes me shy about talking to foreign people because I'm just afraid I'll sound like an idiot asking them to repeat everything they say.
This reminds me of a story, actually. My dad's second wife is from Scotland, around the Edinburgh area, but she's lived in America for about 20 years so her accent is pretty Americanized (except for when she gets angry). So a few years ago she and my dad went on a trip to Scotland to meet her family and see the sights and such, and my dad claims that he was doing pretty well with the accent for most of the trip. As long as he listened, he could pick up what people were saying without too much difficulty.
Then, on the last day of their trip, they are in the car driving someplace and my dad needs to stop for something at a shop. He goes in, spends a couple minutes talking to the woman behind the counter, and comes out completely bewildered by her accent. He tells my stepmom that this woman must be from Germany or something because neither of them can understand the other in the slightest. My stepmom goes in, talks to the woman and buys what she needs, and comes out laughing at my dad, and tells him that the woman was born and bred in that very town.
Goes to show that dialects sometimes might as well be different languages entirely.
This reminds me of a story, actually. My dad's second wife is from Scotland, around the Edinburgh area, but she's lived in America for about 20 years so her accent is pretty Americanized (except for when she gets angry). So a few years ago she and my dad went on a trip to Scotland to meet her family and see the sights and such, and my dad claims that he was doing pretty well with the accent for most of the trip. As long as he listened, he could pick up what people were saying without too much difficulty.
Then, on the last day of their trip, they are in the car driving someplace and my dad needs to stop for something at a shop. He goes in, spends a couple minutes talking to the woman behind the counter, and comes out completely bewildered by her accent. He tells my stepmom that this woman must be from Germany or something because neither of them can understand the other in the slightest. My stepmom goes in, talks to the woman and buys what she needs, and comes out laughing at my dad, and tells him that the woman was born and bred in that very town.
Goes to show that dialects sometimes might as well be different languages entirely.