If you speak this language you are one of a small but select band who know their munch from their devil’s toenails. You may have spent bitter nights dreaming of the Banana Belt and you’ll certainly never wish to be slack.
Antarctese is the peculiar lingo of the scientists and explorers of the Antarctic. Now is the time for them to brush up their vocabulary. Around the world, the Antarctic research vessels are leaving port. Steaming south for the Antarctic summer will be research ships from Australia, the US, Russia, Germany, Britain and others besides. By mid-summer the population of Antarctica will be about 4000, not counting the tourists who, like tourists everywhere, won’t understand a word the locals are saying.
Where did Antarctese come from? Words have drifted in from the languages of explorers of many nations. Old naval terms that have died out in the wider world have lived on in Antarctic bases. And Antarctica creates special needs. Where else do you need words for so many kinds of dreadful food, weather, snow … and penguins. All these influences have combined with words invented just for fun to create the unique vocabulary of Antarctese.
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What does it sound like? This is the land where gashmen (people on cleaning duty) and beakers (scientists) go on jollies (trips) on dingle days (blue-sky days). But when it’s manky (bad weather) you might see crawlies (blowing snow that snakes along the ground) or sea smoke (mist rising from a freezing sea). The sea, of course, is full of bergy bits (chunks of ice), grease ice (oily-looking “ice soup”), growlers (hard-to-spot icebergs) and frazil (small floating ice crystals). On land you have to contend with sastrugi (wind-carved waves in the snow) and nunataks (mountain tops peaking through the ice) which are always a nightmare when it’s blowing a hooley (truly grim weather). That’s when you take smoko (a tea break) and daydream of the Banana Belt (the Antarctic Peninsula or, frankly, anywhere further north and less harsh) and eat some munch (dehydrated meat granules– delicious) and devil’s toenails (dehydrated onions).
Does Antarctese have any choice insults? With people living on top of one another in research stations, you can expect some. Anything poorly done is slack, and the last thing you want to do is a slack gash (be lazy while on cleaning duties). And being voted an Antarctic Ten (as in 10 out of 10) is not as good as it seems. In a small, remote community, people’s attractiveness can become exaggerated in the minds of their admirers. So a person who is an Antarctic Ten is only a plane ride away from being ugly again.
Antarctese even has its own dictionary, by Bernadette Hince and published by Australia’s national research organisation, CSIRO. A final word for anyone heading south soon: Don’t get slotted – that is, don’t fall down a crevasse.
