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.