Fair dinkum Aussie-isms

I'll tell you something funny - well i think its funny, and nice too.

I was at uni yesterday - taking international business this semester - and we had a guest speaker, Neville Greenbank. Guest speakers are rare and novel at uni, and this was one rare dude. Nev (what a cool name) is an older man now, maybe 70-odd, and a farmer from Snake Valley, west of Ballarat. He is now a very successful entrepreneur in the midwest of USA, operating a mobile wheat cleaning business that controls 98% of the market. Smart dude too. Nev had his lovely wife with him, all set up in a nice dress and her hair in a ribbon, quite a 50's scene.

So in comes Nev to talk to the class of 17 students. About half men half women, and three of us are Australian. The rest of the class are Indians, Chinese and one Mexican. The teacher is also Chinese.

When you are around international students a fair bit, as i am, you start to notice how you change the way you speak to be clearer and that you take less shortcuts with language, and use less slang. It may not be necessary but it happens automatically so you are sure people are following what you say.

Someone forgot to tell Nev about this little rule. Wow. When you are tuned in to it, as I was then, I was staggered how much of what he said was slang or a really Australian way of saying things. Almost every sentence, phrase, answer that he gave was some sort of slang. He wasn't hamming it up for the crowd, he simply spoke that way all the time and figured we would all get it. We might have, but gee it was funny. Not only was I surprised, I was proud. We really do have our own way of saying things, and so self-deprecating.

ps. on language - I went to NZ a few years back and some of the locals I met thought I was from Sydney. I was surprised and quizzed them on this. They said it was my accent - apparently I didn't sound like a Melbournian.

pps. when I moved from Wangaratta to Ballarat I started work in an office. There was a friendly guy over the partition. He smiled a lot and always said something, but he had such a thick accent that I could never grasp what it was he said, so I just mumbled hi back. Keen to break the ice and have a good chat, I asked my boss who the Irish guy was: he shrugged and had no idea who I was talking about. "Him", I said, pointing at the man. "Irish! Ha ha no, that's Dan. He's a Ballarat boy, born and bred."

Up hill and down dale

I used to race a bike: raced it here in Ballarat, raced in Castlemaine, and raced from Melbourne to Ballarat. By far the hardest race I ever did was the Mt Baw Baw Classic - 97 km from Warrigul to the summit of the mountain. It's a stunning route, out through the rolling green fields and hills and dairies of Jindivick and Neerim, then a long descent in to Noojee. Then it's a fairly long climb, not too steep, towards Icy Creek and Tanjil Bren, where a friend of mine has a cabin.

Then the party starts. When you get to the main gate in to the Baw Baw resort, you hit a wall. The next 6 kilometres, the last 6 kilometres, are an average of 13% gradient with a maximum somewhere around 22%. This section of the race took me 45 minutes, and I was in okay condition. It was a war site, bodies falling off bikes, legs cramping. It's considered one of the hardest and steepest roads in the world to race up. I recall laughing at one point as it was so steep I couldn't imagine moving up it without a ladder.

The weekend just past I think I found the local running equivalent to the final pitch on Baw Baw. The club had its round four race in Buninyong, a hilly township south of Ballarat. I chose the 3 km race rather than the 5 km - still getting my race fitness and legs, so to speak. I was warned it was steep so went the conservative option. I'm glad I did.

It was a handicap, and I was the back marker, 60 seconds behind the next runner and 14:10 from the front runners. Over a little bridge, left along a dirt track, down a dip and right, then climb. Easy at first, then on to moderate as we climbed up out of a court. Cross the road on to the track again and BANG. You are on Innes Hill, a short and extremely sharp climb to a lovely grassy hill.

The track wound left and right around spindly trees, blocking a view of the top. I knew it was coming so had started easy, hoping to push through the climb and make up big time on the others. It worked, but only because most people walked up it. About 75% through I could see the top, and lifted my eyes for a look. Then I had a Baw Baw moment, a short laugh. Somehow it got steeper and I nearly ground to a total stop, spinning my wheels in the gravel. A short burst and I was out and over, and caught the guy in front and four others in 200 metres more. That climb is the hardest 4 minutes of running I have ever done.

I reeled in 8 others and got tenth, and it appears I set a new club record for the 3km distance at this event, which is held yearly. I'm pretty pleased. But at the lake tonight with the training group, doing 500m sets, my legs were telling a different story. They were still on Innes Hill, or was it Baw Baw?

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A gorgeous autumn day today. Had a coffee early then drove west up Sturt Street towards work. A strong northerly was blowing piles and piles of golden leaves across the road, my window open to the warm air. It's such a good time.

MITB