T-minus one week

This is it. My final week in Switzerland (this time around).

It's weird.

I have a life.

Thoughts sometimes come more fluidly in German than English (okay, not complex thoughts, but still...).

I have a dynamic cast of intriguing co-workers, some of whom never cease to surprise me.

For example, the frau who I earlier declared to be my nemesis seems to have a certain fondness for me. Yesterday, as she prepared an espresso for her break, she muttered how the coffee machine was so extraordinarily clean, and that once I leave, it won't be so clean.

Today was my first Sunday free. I celebrated my morning by laying in bed, and then going for a brutal run in the wind-blown snowflakes. One of the fraus from the restaurant, who also had today off, stopped by the personnel haus to give me a plate of fresh-baked, homemade, traditional Swiss Christmas cookies. Then we sat in the unoccupied banquet hall of the restaurant and chatted over coffee for a half-hour.

I had to cut it a bit short because I had a train to catch.

I played billiards with my cousins, then had fondue and vermicelles (chestnut pureé - the epitome of fall in Switzerland) at my aunt and uncle's house.

And after dinner, as we sat chatting in German, somehow the question arouse as to whether I was stressed... I'm not. My biggest concern at that precise moment was the fact that my bike tires are exceedingly flat, making the uphill climb back to the Waldmannsburg tedious to the point that one might give up and walk. That's it.

And perhaps that's simplifying things slightly, but that's my current state of mind. Sure it would have been cool to zip up to Copenhagen and join the throngs of climate change protesters. And Switzerland is far from perfect, particularly given the recent political manifestations of long-festering discrimination - as one (Swiss) friend put it, "enjoy your last week in Switzerland with its xenophobic inhabitants." But likely due to my work schedule and social status as a foreigner, I'm constrained from doing much in terms of political or academic action. And that leaves me, at least for right now, content, in fact, quite happy cruising Switzerland from the comfort of the second class train cars.

it's been forever since I blogged

but that is what happens once you actually develop a life in a place - you no longer have time to write about it. I mentally compared the phenomenon to taking pictures and some insight I once read about a photographer necessarily missing out on part of the experience (or maybe just experiencing things differently?).

Work still consists mostly of cleaning, although for the Christmas season we have a new menu and a new array of specialty wines (as my boss explained, you highlight the more expensive varieties around this time of the year).

Goodbye, Amarone!

My cappuccino and latte machiatto skills have become fairly impressive.

I hauled like 50 boxes of Prosecco (12 bottles/box) around the cellar last week.

Business is definitely picking up.

In fact, yesterday my boss sent me into the "lounge" where a banquet buffet was held for 60 people. My job was to stand behind the soups, explain that the one on the right was consommé with flatley and kurbiscreme suppe was on the left. Each guest picked a soup and I served them in what probably amounts to a 3-oz glass (who knows how many cl that is...).

Only one guy asked if I was American, and then, where I was from. Per usual, no one has heard of Oregon, but they are convinced I'm from LA as soon as I mention that it's north of California. Great.

Oh, and yesterday morning, after living here for 3-months, I got lost in the woods. I went running before work (trying to take advantage of a time when I could actually be outside while it's light out), went down a path I had never encountered before, ended up looping around over a little hill and finally asked an old man with trekking poles for the general direction of Dübendorf once I began to worry that I wouldn't find my way back in time for work at 10:30am.

In a way, it's reassuring that there is still so much to learn.

(Like how/why 57% of Swiss voters could possibly agree with a constitutional ban on building new minarets. Oh the shame.)

momentary chaos

Today, right as lunchtime hit, my boss wanted me to make mulled white wine for an evening banquet celebrating the close of the golfing season. This all would be simple enough, if he hadn't just handed me a handwritten photocopied recipe (in German, of course) and pointed to the kitchen and said to ask Urs (the head kitchen chef) if I didn't know where something was.

I don't know where anything is in the kitchen.

and that is only the slightest exaggeration.

I didn't know:

a) what ingredients I needed (because I haven't had a lot of use for the German word for "cloves" up to this point).

b) where to find any of the ingredients - in the cellar, in the kitchen, near the stove, near the kalte kuche...

c) where to find a pot, or which type of pot to use (fortunately, my boss became impatient and grabbed a pot himself and stuck it on a hotplate, but then one of the kitchen-folk stuck a magnet to the pot and established that it couldn't be used on that hotplate, so while I was rushing around trying to get a liter of water, the pot or the hotplate, or both, got switched).

d) where to find measuring utensils, a stirring spoon, or a funnel.

So basically, I was a minor nuisance in the kitchen for 10 or 15 minutes, until the wine was happily mulling (in the appropriate pot, on the appropriate hotplate). At which point, Darco, who was trying to flatten veal for cordon bleu beside my brewing concoction, said, "I'm already drunk from the fumes."

I'm bringing the recipe home. Sweet, sweet success!

why not? it's Tuesday.

So I hopped a 2-hr train (or rather 4 trains and 1 bus) to Wasserauen in the Appenzellerland to go hiking today. And it was worth every minute of the trip.

Yeah, I'm wearing a T-shirt. It was probably 60 or 65-degrees, even at elevation (while at one point I lost the trail in the snow). Meanwhile, in my backpack I had a thermal, down vest, fleece, rain shell, hat, and gloves. Probably the most prepared for cold weather I have ever been on a day hike. I ended up needing the layers while waiting for my train back to Zurich.

This is a prehistoric cave, which has been excavated. Apparently the stone age Swiss hunted brown bears. There was an education display in the reconstructed hermit's hut on the other side of the cave, but since it was all in German, and I was more focused on the scenery, I really don't know all the details.
This is the view looking back at the famous pastoral lands of Appenzellerland. I was reading on a bench as a farmer fertilized nearby, and I can tell you, that greenery comes at a "fragrant" price.

Yeah, I'm still here

Okay, so I'm experiencing the 1.5 month hump, as it seems to be known by world travelers and expats (or at least among my friends) - that time, when back in the States, friends and family are enjoying the all-American aspects of fall: the World Series, football, spectacularly-colored leaves, and of course, Halloween - and I'm, at various moments, wishing I could be partaking in those experiences.

But, I do have a number of minute updates, which are, perhaps, worthy of note:

1. I received a Swiss social security card. While handing me the envelope, my boss explained that once I turn 65 I'll be "rolling in the dough" (okay, he didn't phrase it quite like that).

2. I have a Swiss bank account. Yeah, I know! And it's with UBS... which I initially chose because I was thinking, "Hey, we have UBS in the States, maybe I could just put money in as CHF and withdraw it in the US as American dollars!" When I explained this idea to the woman setting up my account, she tried, tactfully, to say that there are laws against that. OH, right. Like the billions of dollars that UBS is paying the US govt. for acting as a tax haven... Oops.

3. I have a nemesis. She is one of the Fraus at the restaurant and she is known by all of my colleagues of comparable age as the "hexe" or witch. Even before I knew they called her that, I actually could hear the theme song of the "wicked witch of the west" from the Wizard of Oz play in my head whenever she arrived. I told this to the other Diana and she looked it up on youtube and agreed. It's not like this woman is a bad person, she's just past due for retirement and insists on antagonizing everyone and treating me as though I am a complete idiot. She also does the flower arrangements for the restaurant every Monday, so I try to compliment her on those - unless of course she is sweetly telling me to set the tables for the personnel dinner 1.5 hours in advance.

a real weekend?

I went out both Friday and Saturday nights.

(I slept for 11 hours on Sunday night)

And all day Monday.

Maybe I have a social life?

I also discovered a veggie peeler in the personnel house kitchen - Hello, carrots!

Tonight I'm going to Zurich to meet English-speakers from the English-speaking forum... I know, it seems like a cultural cop-out, but I speak Swiss German at work and I spent all of yesterday speaking Swiss German, and today I was basically a slug (I watched a documentary about Le Mans - the car race - and enjoyed it; I fell asleep reading Tolstoy).

We shall see if I'm capable of normal English-language conversation at this point.

This is what globalization looks like:

In a restaurant in Switzerland, where veal and salmon are regularly served for the personnel meals (with reactions ranging from apathetic to disgust - apparently everyone except me hates fish), near chaos broke out today when the kitchen staff unveiled our lunch of... wait for it...

chicken nuggets and french fries.

Apparently, all they really want is every meal to be like McDonald's (and they gleefully told me, innumerable times, that, "hey, it's like McDonald's!"). I didn't have the heart to tell them that in the States, I haven't eaten at a McDonald's since I was probably 6. I did refuse to dip my chicken nuggets into mayonnaise - standards, people, standards!

pictures

Here are a few pictures I took today from Uetliburg - sweeping views of Zurich.

My dad and uncle eating at the ubiquitous "bites" restaurants along a trail in the Jura.

The cows which provide a soundtrack for my life - literally 50m. from my window.

Above is the view of Dübendorf from the ruins; below, left is the interior of my gigantic room; right is the picture I took of the Waldmannsburg (from the window of my room) the afternoon I arrived - Swiss flag waving in the breeze!

Okay, most of those were long overdue.

I have Swiss stuff that I could write about, but instead, I'm mostly concerned with my love for dogs. Dogs are permitted in the restaurant and on Sunday, a huge, adorable golden retriever came in (with owners, obviously), and it was all I could do to restrain myself from leaving my post and kneeling down and just rubbing that goofy-smily head.

Then, today on the train ride back from Uetliburg, a man with a large chocolate lab, wearing a brown leather collar with white crosses - for the swiss flag (not Jesus-like crosses) - sat next to me, then asked if the dog was a problem. I had been playing solitaire on my iPod, but with the arrival of a dog, electronic entertainment lost all appeal. I smiled, said, "Kein problem," and rubbed the dog's head.

On the trail from Uetliburg to the Seihlbahn, there were a number of dogs, but one non-allergenic seeming one kept circling back and trotting next to my heels. I later realized that it's owner was probably the only other female wearing shorts on the entire crowded "urban trail." Heck, it was 80 degrees! No time to worry about high fashion - or so I thought.

I also apologize for the eclectic and disjointed look of picture posts - figuring out blog logistics is sometimes not my top priority...

abend

Yesterday could have been notable for the appearance of a very small, mullet-toting boy in the kitchen. But, overshadowing that intriguing fact was the entry of myself into the world of dinner. Up until this point, my restaurant duties have ended at 6pm, safely before the onslaught of evening diners. Yet due to a last minute schedule change, since the guy who was supposed to work the drinks/buffet was moving to Zurich/had a party to attend (two separate stories I heard, the former from the guy, the latter from the dishwasher, Carlos), I found myself standing at my post beside the coffee machine, amid the candlelit dining room, greeting individuals who, it turns out, are far more adventurous in their wine selections than lunchtime customers.

This somewhat pivotal task was entrusted to me because so few reservations cluttered the carefully organized "Donnerstag, Abend" page of the scheduling book.

What I did discover, is that when the lights are dimmed, and the stress of serving is low, coworkers are much funnier and more engaging.

I also learned how to use specialty dishsoap on the filtering mechanism on the coffee machine.

And, after I finished all the requisite cleaning and polishing of the glasses, we sat down to an obligatory "afterwork drink," which, for me, due to my intense kopfschmerzen (headache), consisted of water. Forty-five minutes later, after the multi-lingual jubilation subsided somewhat, and the beers were effectively drained, we said our Tschüsses and I took ibuprofen and went to bed.

surviving today

I just sent a text in German. T9 on my cell phone is utterly confused.

I think a third day in-a-row of working with the most annoying 17-year-old boy I have encountered in my rather minimal experience of 17-year-old boys is going to drive me to drink the wine and beers I'm supposed to be serving. He is so utterly insufferable that the 16-year-old girl (also named Diana) and 18-year-old boy (Simon) who were also forced to endure him today were at their wits end.

I found some solace in scrubbing the coffee maker to oblivion. During this process I discovered what I think might be an "odometer" on the coffee grinder.

Papa Aegerter is another character who deserves mention. He appeared early last week, just before my 9am shift began, cereal bowl in hand. He begins every morning in this manner, moving slowing toward the buffet with his bowl and newspaper. The rather strange part is that I sometimes encounter him later, like in the cellar, sitting near the laundry room picking berries off of their little stems, one-by-one. It almost seems like bizarre parental slave labor... but who am I to judge, particularly when I don't really understand what he's doing, and chances are, no one would be able to explain it to me in a why which made much sense.

Which leads me to my story from this morning (before insufferable boy arrived). One of the servers had just finished slicing a basketful of bread, showed me the bread and said something in German about what I was supposed to do with the bread. I made it clear that I understood my mission revolved around the bread, but I was uncertain as to what else it included. Was it for the banquet set-up for lunch? Should I bring it into the kitchen for use in some dish? With the help of the-other-Diana, it was determined that I was supposed to do something with the bread and chicken. Okay, this makes no sense. I've never done anything with bread and chicken before, it's not one of the tasks I've seen anyone else do. I'm still utterly confused. So, the-other-Diana takes the basket of bread in hand, leads me out the backdoor of the kitchen and toward the area where I suddenly recalled live chickens seem to roost. There she dumped the day-old bread in bin and reminded me to bring the basket back to the kitchen.

Bread and chicken. Sometimes identifying the key words really doesn't get you all the way there with comprehension.

weekend comes!

Well, that was my full work-week: from Wednesday through Sunday. And, as with many jobs, it became easier and more fun/fulfilling by week's end. Aside from frustration surrounding the foam for six cappuccinos, today was busy, but not overwhelming. I'm getting the hang of this.

Other important things to note:

I saw a miniature cowbell near the foot pegs of someone's Vespa, parked outside the restaurant.

There was lightning last night.

I love the wine cellar. Absolutely love it. It's calm and quiet, and organized. The bottles are just waiting to be helpful - waiting for that moment when, in a frenzy, they are precisely the correct answer to the question. I love the process of memorizing where each bottle is tucked away, the most popular labels come more easily: La Contrada - take an immediate right, in the back corner, on top; Ticinello (not Tiginello) - second right, just past midway down the aisle on the right-hand side; Sinfonia - straight-ahead, stacked in a small carton, just above eye-level.

I could go on-and-on. I could write an ode to the wine cellar. I imagine I could also hide down there if I really run-out of cleaning opportunities upstairs. But not yet. That's taking things a bit too quickly.

Oh, and I got 10.5 hours of sleep last night.

sleepless

I went to a fashion show of "up-and-coming" Zurich designers at a club in Zurich last night with Karin, the kitchen girl (also 22) who lives in the personnel house with me. AMAZING people watching! There was a woman in a leopard-print unitard. As described by Karin, Zurich fashion originates with Paris Hilton (?!)... and evolves?

Then there was the after-party. Then a confusing jaunt to a different club where they played all of the hip-hop songs I know from the past 4 years, rather than electronica/techno. I guess I'm one of those people that at least occasionally likes words in my music.

Then there was work at 9am until 6pm. One cup of caffeinated tea and I was a "hard-working cleaner" all day long. And it was such a lovely evening I went for a run on new trails behind the restaurant (I swear, there are so many trail, I might never travel the same route twice, unless it's for fear of getting lost). I jogged by two Swiss cows nuzzling each other, although their cowbells got in the way a bit. And then, I finished my run in my favorite way: stretching atop the 15th century castle ruins outside my backdoor. And now it's almost 8:30pm and I'll probably fall asleep.

in brief

I spent two hours in the wine cellar this afternoon.

The restaurant has 222 types of wine.

I learned that some wines have identical bottles and labels, but are actually completely different, in fact, they aren't even made by the same vineyard. Copyright, anyone?

Apparently, the most expensive wine in the cellar costs about 800 francs (1 USD= 1.05 CHF).

Due to my lack of German, I'm still being given lunchtime hours, which means I have scrubbed, cleaned, and wiped every conceivable inch of that damn buffet, its glasses, its drawers, the grout of the tile behind the sink...

I did discover that the coffee maker has a tachometer!

Okay, well, it stopped raining, so I'm going to bop into town in order to find some light bulbs so that I can no longer use my headlamp as a main light source past 8pm. Gotta save the headlamp for when you really need it, you know?

schnee und wanderen

I've been negligent with the blog already - oh, well, no surprise. (Hopefully the inclusion of pictures!! will compensate).

But, I've been busy:

Friday and Saturday I worked 9-hour days (from 9am - 6pm).

Sunday, Mommy arrived from her meeting in Düsseldorf with Reudi and Brigitte (family friends who live in Zurich) and sat at a table directly in front of the buffet station which I was manning, looking at me until I finally noticed (perhaps not the best indication of my attentiveness to diners?).

I left work a bit early so we could drive to the Berner Oberland, home of famed alps like the Jungfrau, Eiger, Mönch, etc. Our plan was to conquer the 6-hour trail from First to Schynige Platte. Even the prior evening, as we briefly watched Federer trounce Djokovic (I fell asleep before the completion of the first set) on our hotel TV in Wilderswil, the weather looked uncooperative.

The following morning, the English-speaking guy at the train ticket counter was incredulous at our intentions; the clouds and drizzle in Wilderswil promised to intensify with the elevation of gain of 1500 meters to First. My mom and I looked at each other and shrugged, "We're here."

The view at the top of the First gondola looked like this, and with fog and sleet. Like true Portlanders, we had our Gore-Tex on hand (but unfortunately, no hat or gloves!).

As we continued hiking, the fog got thicker, our trail became more difficult to distinguish

because the Swiss put trails everywhere, and 20-minutes into our 6.5-hour hike, it started to snow.

Needless to say, the fabulous views of all the high alps were completely obstructed by extremely-stubborn clouds. We did manage to enjoy the lake views and the novelty of snow crystals forming around the remaining wildflowers.

And, to be honest, it probably only snowed for a total of 4-hours; so that's not so bad, right?

Frühstück

Not surprisingly, when I wandered into the restaurant this morning and greeted Monika (who doesn't speak English), and mentioned "Frühstück" because, following my realization that running around here consists of mainly of hills, I was a bit hungry, she showed me how to make an espresso using a machine the size of an oven. Did I want a klein espresso oder ein gross espresso? Different buttons. Was I making one cup or two? Different buttons. Had I just wanted a coffee, we would have used a different machine entirely (although, one with fewer buttons, it appears).

I don't even drink coffee.

But this morning I had my espresso, because for two minutes, I thought that was going to be the extent of my breakfast.

Fortunately, Monika pointed in three directions to the bread, butter, and konfitüre.

She then set my espresso down at the table with a man to whom I had not been introduced the previous night, who was reading the paper. He said nothing. I ate and tried to make polite conversation (there was a huge picture of Roger Federer in the sports section, and hey, what Swiss person doesn't appreciate the tennis prowess of their countryman?). I also introduced myself and learned that his name was Roberto. Sweet! Then he thought I was from England. Sweet!

It turns out he had been delivering something to the restaurant, but when I said "Tschüss," he smiled and responded, so I'm classifying that interaction a success.

Arrived.

I feel almost like one of those writers who romantically holes away in the countryside to better focus upon their art of linguistic composition. My room is bright and big, with windows that provide views of so much verdant landscape, it's almost unimaginable. Down the hill, the town of Dübendorf is tucked among the fields, while up the hill is a fantastic trail, or rather, a series of trails, which promise intrigue for morning runs and weekend bike rides (since Peter enthusiastically informed me that they have a brand new velo!).

It takes 7 minutes by train to get to Zürich, once one walks 15 minutes down the hill from the Waldmannsburg. I'm not sure how long it takes to follow the helpful signs to the Bahnhof, but I'm sure I'll find out soon enough.

Job-wise, I'm still pretty much in the dark. I start tomorrow at 9am. Doing what, exactly, with beverages? I don't know.