Trwy dolenni Nwdls ar delicious.com ffeindiais i gofnod diddorol ar flog Cymreig dw i heb ei weld o’r blaen: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Heniaith.

Fel sy’n digwydd ar ddechrau pob blwyddyn academaidd, dw i wedi bod yn meddwl am fy mhrofiadau personol o ddod at yr iaith, ond mae’n hawdd iawn anghofio pa mor gyffrous oedd hi i weld y byd trwy’r ffenestri Cymraeg am y tro cyntaf. Mae Carl yn mynd trwy llawer o’r un pethau dw i’n eu cofio (jyst) fel dysgwr o “Gymro di-Gymraeg”.

Over the years I then met people who happened to speak Welsh. Knowledge of the language never seemed a prerequisite to polite conversation (aIthough I can’t say with certainty what everyone really thought of me). Of those who became my friends, I never felt any kind of pressure from them to learn Welsh.

But gradually I felt some kind of higher plane of mutual understanding was possible. It felt a little impertinent, maybe, to converse with them in English. These were people who’d write their shopping lists, get their schooling, sing, pray and do whatever else people do – in Welsh.

It’s like going to Japan and opting merely to shake hands with people. When in Japan, it’s probably better to bow – if you can.

Pob lwc gyda’r dysgu, Carl. Ac os doi di yn ôl i Langrannog, wna i brynu peint i ti.