Howyagoinmate?

There are certain themes that have pervaded my study abroad experience.  I would say the most common theme has been my ability – or inability, as you will come to understand – to communicate.  Of course in Spain, it made perfect sense as I was going there to learn the language.  What made it difficult at times is the fact that people talk incredibly fast and in Southern Spain, have accents that you grow to love but are just plain hard to understand when you first get there.  So it stood to reason that I would have glitches in communication over there.  I expected this before I went and just had to laugh at myself when I couldn’t understand what was going on or said stupid things to people in public (which, I guarantee, anybody going abroad to study and learn a foreign language, WILL HAPPEN TO YOU)

However, I found myself fairly certain that all problems with communication would cease the moment I left Spain.  I looked forward to going to a country that speaks my language, as this would be one less stressor (it can get tiring constantly worrying about whether or not your nouns and verbs are agreeing, that’s for sure).  Now here I am, looking back on the past three and a half months, and I guess the lesson that has been brutally drilled into my head throughout my time abroad is that assumptions will kick you in the balls every time.

Sometimes, I just truly do not communicate well with Australians.  I have left many an encounter scratching my head and going, “Hm.  I just don’t think we’re speaking the same language here!” These encounters leave me feeling incredibly wrong-footed and freak me out a little bit because I’m a native English speaker! On these occasions, I just wonder, “what the hell is wrong with me?”

I have come to realize that there are several factors working against me.  One of the problems is the actual Australian accent itself, which in the best of situations is fine.  People from urban areas, and the bigger cities like Sydney, Melbourne, and Brisbane, tend to have less strong accents.  In fact, some of them are rather faint and I find these people pleasant and easy to listen to.  However, in the worst of situations, people from “the bush” are another story entirely.  Some of these people have accents so thick I can scarcely understand them.

Case in point: one night, a guy I had met invited me to go out with him and some of his friends, who are all from somewhere in Victoria’s countryside about five hours away from Melbourne.  Upon meeting his friends, it quickly dawned on me that it was going to be a long night.  I literally could not understand half of what they said, and found myself annoyed at having to ask them to repeat themselves.  Not to mention the fact that the more I did this, the more they looked at me like I was sprouting a moustache.  After a few hours, I had had enough.  I sat on the tram going home, slightly defeated, and couldn’t quite fathom the level of difficulty I had just experienced in comprehending my own language.  ”Was that English?” I thought, “because it certainly didn’t sound like it!”

Another factor working against me is the fact that Australians have taken the English language and distorted it because, to be honest, they are lazy speakers (as any of them will readily admit!).  They shorten anything and everything, and if a word has more than three syllables, forget it.  Three of my good EAP friends here have had interesting things happen to their names: Jeremy has become Jez, Casey has become Frank, and my friend Kealoha (say “Kay uh low ha”) has had an entire syllable chopped out of her name.  She is now Kuhoha, and if you ask the Australians to say her name correctly, they look at you as if you had just asked them to box a kangaroo.  My name as has created problems as well.  Upon first meeting me, my landlord seemed to have a lot of trouble pronouncing “Danielle,” and had almost a pained, confused look every time he said it.  Quickly tiring of its length, he started jumping back and forth between “Dan” and “Dani.” I am here to tell you how awkward it is to be called “Dan” (eh, my parents do sometimes, but that’s a different story).  Most Australians will automatically call me Dani as well, a nickname I have not had since about the 6th grade.

But here are some fun examples of things they have shorted.  Ambulance has become “ambo.”  The Salvation Army is referred to as the “Salvos,” wetsuit is “wetty,” Brisbane is “Brizzie,” Tasmania “Tassie,” and thanks somehow got shortened to “ta.”  Australians also frequently say that something is “good as.” The first time I heard this, I thought, “good as what?” It was then explained to me that they can’t be bothered throwing an adjective or other descriptive word in there.  So if you hear that a party was good as, it was a damn good party.  Then we’ve got the ever popular “Macca’s” in reference to McDonald’s.  I guess it just never ends.

Don’t get me wrong on this post.  I’m not trying to call Aussie English stupid or ridiculous (after all, I have been told that my friends and I sound like an episode of The Hills, but maybe that experience should be for a different blog).  Rather, I am trying to make light of the fact that I sometimes cannot communicate in my own language.  It’s something I just try and take in stride, and like I did when I was in Spain, my tactic is simply to laugh it off.

Even if I did waste $25 on a mobile phone recharge that turned out to be the wrong one because I simply could not understand what the cashier was saying.

So it goes.