Spray it, wash it, dry it, bring it.
Plates with avocado, crusts and crumbles, left-overs of fries with rocks of salt that stick to the stripes of red sauce. And then, if you are unlucky, there is dried egg. Oh, that damned dried egg, that never wants to get off by spraying it thoroughly. From forks to plates, from plates to boxes and bowls, ramakans, big spoons, small spoons, knives to chop big things, knifes to chop small things, unknown tools for grinding, slicing and mixing: my hands hurt by thinking of them. One hand grabbing them firmly, the other squeezing the trigger of the spraying hose, followed by putting them in the dishwasher and piling them up to lift them back to where they belong. Taking new dirty plates from the front when I walk back. Creativity and excitement are words that do not have a place in this job. For that matter, I create water-ballets on a regular basis, I flirt with the idea of accidentally spraying unwary customers though the pass-through window, but further than an occasional accidental drip in the face of a colleague it doesn't get.
In this job you have got to deal with the fact that you are the one that cleans all the dirt that others make: and that is both customers and colleagues. The fortunate thing is, they will make you something nice in your break, and every now and then you'll have cold drinks and coffee's. But still, you remain to be on the lower bottom of the chain of supervision in the kitchen. you do whatever people ask you to do, until you have your break. then you will enjoy some good food and drink. After thirty minutes, you are thrown back into reality, and get back to work, but not after you have cleaned your own plate and cutlery first...
In this job you have got to deal with the fact that you are the one that cleans all the dirt that others make: and that is both customers and colleagues. The fortunate thing is, they will make you something nice in your break, and every now and then you'll have cold drinks and coffee's. But still, you remain to be on the lower bottom of the chain of supervision in the kitchen. you do whatever people ask you to do, until you have your break. then you will enjoy some good food and drink. After thirty minutes, you are thrown back into reality, and get back to work, but not after you have cleaned your own plate and cutlery first...
Borneo Insomnia
So, there I lied. On a two centimeter mattress, with a mosquito net so small, leaving me hoping the dengue or malaria mosquito’s would not bite me through it. As everything in here looked so much more friendly and serene as those South East Asian cities, little did I know the lush green wilderness had not only imposed its beauty but also its dangers on me. Two days before we were dropped deep in the jungle of Borneo. A two hour boat trip upstream had taken us to our first checkpoint, where the local guide left us behind on the banks of this wild river. Charlie company would be right behind us he said, he said. But we knew better, from here we were on our own.
After a gnarly 9km hike, we arrived at Camp 5 as a lonely unit. Here we would meet Bravo Company. “Five” as we used to call it, would become our home for the next few days, and existed out of no more than three huts with basic equipment. After hours waiting, we came to know what we already knew, Charlie Company never made it…
After days of bad sleep, I’m sweating and wandering around. To fight the craze of the jungle, everybody had its own solutions. By now, everybody had run out of their sleeping medicine. Bought illegally in some obscure back alley pharmacy down in Miri, the last piece of civilization before getting lost in the wilderness. Also my direct appointed buddy James was suffering heavy insomnia. His doubtful luck was only that he had learned to deal with it during his time in Vietnam. The only advice he could give me was: “you better just let yourself go boy, from here the Gods decide. Worrying about it has no point at all; your destiny has already been decided.”
Writing this from Kota Kinabalu, knowing I’m going to climb the highest mountain in South East Asia, makes me eager for this next step in the Adventures of Borneo.
*Based on a true story, parts of the story may be fictional or exaggerated.
After a gnarly 9km hike, we arrived at Camp 5 as a lonely unit. Here we would meet Bravo Company. “Five” as we used to call it, would become our home for the next few days, and existed out of no more than three huts with basic equipment. After hours waiting, we came to know what we already knew, Charlie Company never made it…
After days of bad sleep, I’m sweating and wandering around. To fight the craze of the jungle, everybody had its own solutions. By now, everybody had run out of their sleeping medicine. Bought illegally in some obscure back alley pharmacy down in Miri, the last piece of civilization before getting lost in the wilderness. Also my direct appointed buddy James was suffering heavy insomnia. His doubtful luck was only that he had learned to deal with it during his time in Vietnam. The only advice he could give me was: “you better just let yourself go boy, from here the Gods decide. Worrying about it has no point at all; your destiny has already been decided.”
Writing this from Kota Kinabalu, knowing I’m going to climb the highest mountain in South East Asia, makes me eager for this next step in the Adventures of Borneo.
*Based on a true story, parts of the story may be fictional or exaggerated.