Seasonaires are an odd bunch. Bright, young things, following their dreams to the mountians and spending six months of winter working in menial jobs so they can be there, every day, skiiing or snowboarding. How amazing it must be, back home, to announce to your friends and family 'I'm off to do a season, eh?' How great it looks to us as we arrive in our chalet and they tell us tales of 'last weeks powderdays, eh?' and how they are 'going out to hit some sweet spots this arvo, eh?'. (BTW, Nearly every seasonaires voice has the ozzie/kiwi habit of rising at the end of a sentence, known technically as a Terminal Incline and has the effect of making even the most boring statements into the most enthusiastic question... Dinners at eight-thirty, eh!! You want
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