Ja or nein? ©Mike Blewitt
As a traveling Australian I’ve grown accustomed to the incredulous look that accompanies a new-found acquaintance’s realization that I can’t converse in the local dialect of whatever region I happen to be visiting at the time.
Deep into the season and sporting heavy tan lines it is both amusing and entertaining to see what nationality I get mistaken for at marathon events. French in Austria, Italian in Switzerland, German in Northern Italy… although sometimes a minute detail on my race number plate or kit will give the game away.
“Hop hop hop! Oooh, Australia!”
So why do I struggle with languages? Well, which one do you choose? French is heavily romanticized as a language, but as a European friend of mine pointed out to me, ‘what other French marathon racer is there besides Thomas Dietsch?’ And he speaks German.
Italian is another attractive language to learn. But they don’t speak it anywhere else, and it’s not even the language of choice once you’re into classic Dolomiti marathon territory anyway.
The Belgians and Dutch are notoriously strong in the marathon scene, but their ability with English more often than not matches their prowess on the bike. That, and they’ll generally only travel as far as their motorhome will take them.
The Czechs, Poles, Slovenians and Slovenians are some of the hardest marathon racers out there, thanks largely to the incredibly difficult events that are hosted in their home countries. But most of them speak fantastic English, so the need to learn their language is minimal beyond social niceties. Besides, due to their turbulent not-too-distant histories and current tourist trades, they converse well in the Euro Marathon Language of Choice:
Deutsch.
Experience has shown me that a little German is the key. Look at any über-difficult European marathon and it will either A) be in Austria or B) have a startlist filled with an imposing Austrian contingent. On more than one occasion I’ve heard a German refer to Austrian Deutsch as “farmers German” but it’s the same base language. The same goes for a lot of the Dolomites, a lot of Switzerland, and other surrounding countries. In fact, a South African mate of mine found he could get by with Afrikaans.
But if you don’t find yourself remotely close to a connection with the German diaspora, what do you need to know? Enter the Guide to Australian phoenetic pronunciation (The GAPP):
Links = Left
Wrecked = Right
Ark toong = Get out of my way, you’re going too slow.
En shoe Lee gung = Excuse me, I really didn’t mean to crash in front of you.
Eeso = Give me the sports drink.
Vasser = I feel ill, I can only drink water.
Dung Kay = Thanks for letting me pass, why did I have to ask so many times?
Radler = A Shandy
So although Deutsch is clearly the marathon language of choice, I still haven’t learnt it. Why? Because to be honest I’m yet to enter a marathon where there was a whole lot of chatting going on. A weary nod of the head is usually enough to demonstrate a willingness to work together. Dazed looks and poor riding are clear indicators of when it’s time to push on. Heavy sweat stains can tell you someone has worked way too hard. That, and who is ever in the one spot long enough to sit down and learn a whole other language?