The Vernacular

It's the little things that you notice: they still have five cent pieces here, the magpies sound happier and of course there is no escaping the Aussie accent.

As a child, I endured a fair bit of teasing from older Australian cousins, "say six" they would order, and then fall about laughing; " she said sux! - now say fish and chips!"
I was always too timid to retaliate, scared that if I suggested that they were in fact saying "sex" they might ask me to explain what that word meant (and I wasn't entirely sure.....)

After a while you become used to the Aussie accent because most people you meet don't speak at all like Crocodile Dundee. There are rare exceptions however, when a friendly saleswoman referred to her "seester dee-owun een Keen-beer-ah" I was grateful that I hadn't asked her where Keen-beer-ah was located. Later, J explained that she had been referring to Australia's capital city.

Australians are startling fond of inventing diminutives, in fact they use abbreviations more than any other English speaking nation.  Some are familiar (barbie, brekkie, cuppa) others less so.  For example, an ambulance driver (who happened to be a member of the salvation army) seen refueling his vehicle a service station, would likely be described on this side of the Tasman as 'the salvo ambo at the servo'.
Even giant american corporates have pandered to the Australian 'appreciation for abbreviation.'
This year, thirteen Australian McDonald's outlets re-branded (for a limited time only).

Most 'strine' is easily interpreted, but every once in a while you encounter a word that is a uniquely Australian.  For example, if you were to have a 'bingle' while visiting Australia, would you be:

a) Experiencing a pleasant tingling sensation while enjoying a romantic encounter with a well known Australian model
b) Involved in a minor traffic accident
c) Running safely to first base while playing baseball

                                        (Correct answer at the bottom of the page)

Don't expect to hear 'fair dinkum.' The most common phrase in the Australian vocabulary is 'nah wurries' (translation = no worries).  I like it.  It nicely encapsulates the Aussie ethos of casual optimism and is much more pleasant than the meaningless, contradictory Kiwi equivalent (yeah nah). 'Nah wurries' usually means 'you are most welcome.'  It is an essential catchphrase for all shop assistants. Take possession of your purchase, say "thank you" and immediately the person serving will respond with "nah wurries."  The linguistic habit has crossed all cultural and geographic boundaries.  Aussies of every ethnic background say it (charming in an Indian accent) and even call center staff in distant countries have been instructed to use the phrase while talking to anyone who rings from Ausrtalia.

Overuse of the phrase should be guarded against however, does a double positive imply a negative? Recently a barmaid used it five times while serving us drinks, we wondered whether her first name might be Cliché?

                                                   The answer is of course b)

The Hotel

I can now claim to have been accommodated in a similar manner to Howard Hughes, if not in a similar style. Howard spent the last ten years of his life moving between hotels; our stay lasted just two months.  Was his desire to live in filth and seclusion a symptom of his deteriorating mental health? or could his decline be in any way attributed to his preferred form of accommodation? Poor Howard, If I had a time machine, I would hop aboard and warn him that hotel living can be isolating, uncomfortable and tedious.  I would not recommend it to anyone who had a predisposition to addiction or insanity. While the machine was still warm, I would also administer advice to Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen at the Chelsea Hotel.

It was no Chateau Marmont, but despite being inconveniently located in 'lard land' it was clean, tidy and well appointed. It was also very small. The 55 square meter apartment had generously proportioned hotel fixtures and fittings.  Within a few days it also contained two mountain  bikes, a set of golf clubs, ten large cartons of essential possessions and six large suitcases.  We learned to turn sideways while passing one another and discovered that it was inadvisable to cook fish in a small enclosed space and that electronic door cards are infuriatingly unreliable.

Signs on every level warned that 'day sleepers' were in residence and asked that guests should be considerate of their needs. Who were these somnolent shift-workers? I knew that there were other 'long-staying' guests but never encountered a single one.  Were they holed up in their rooms sorting peas by size and eating cornflakes with whipped cream like Howard Hughes?  Or had they simply left the hotel and gone to work during daylight hours? The only living souls that I ever encountered between nine o'clock in the morning and five o'clock at night were the housekeeping staff.  I stopped bemoaning the lack of space when a housemaid informed me that four doors down the corridor, a family with three small children and a baby were living in an identically sized room.

The housemaids were unfailingly polite, helpful and hardworking.  They were also somewhat unpredictable. At any time during the working day there would be a timorous tap on the door accompanied by the call "Housekeeping." Generally, they had simply come to service the room, but every so often one maid or young man was allocated a single task to undertake in each of the hotel's sixty rooms.
KNOCK, KNOCK
"Housekeeping, Hello, sorry to disturb you, I won't be long, I just have to:"

• "Check for spiders on the balcony" (Poisonous spiders?)
• "Empty the lint filter in your clothes dryer"
• "Check the blankets for stains" (YUK)
• "Wash the window"
• "Measure the thickness of each of your bed pillows" (I am not making this up!)
• "Clean the toilet" (60 toilets! - who had he annoyed?)

I was embarrassed to be reliant on their services, they were embarrassed by having to disturb me.  Privacy could simply have been guaranteed by hanging the 'Do not disturb' sign on the doorknob - but unlike Howard, I had not yet lost the desire for cleanliness or company.

The housemaids were frighteningly efficient, they could clean a room in under ten minutes and always left their trademark finishing touches behind: the toilet paper 'point' (known in the trade as 'toilegami') and a little row of toiletries in tiny plastic bottles accompanied by a square of generic hotel soap.
The soaps were too small, the tiny squares had sharp little edges and had been chemically formulated to simply dissolve without creating any cleansing foam.  Remembering the hotel soap story  I decided that it would be easier to simply place the soaps and unwanted toiletries in a drawer, than to convince a dozen or so different housemaids that they were not needed. Perhaps there is some truth to the hotel soap story - on the eve of our departure I gathered the toiletries together and returned them to the housemaid.  She seemed surprised and thanked me, then serviced the room as usual,  leaving another  four toiletries behind.

Had I discovered the reason why Howard Hughes found hotel living to be so attractive? Perhaps he was referring to the endless supply of free soaps when he advised his aides to "wash four distinct and separate times, using lots of lather each time, from individual bars of soap."