A Napkin Is A Very Difficult Thing To Handle

Who knew? I certainly didn't. If someone asked me before my training at the Summit Restaurant, "Sarah, what do you think the most difficult or challenging part of the job will be?", my response would not have been: "Handling a napkin." That just seems silly. No, I would have answered: "Figuring out where the tables are because the restaurant is always revolving." How wrong of me to assume. That is the easy part. The hardest part of my job and the part I dread the most is handling a napkin. I know the suspense is killing you, so I will explain why.

First, there is the task of folding napkins (which I have mentioned in previous posts). At the restaurant, the white linen napkins are set at each dinner guest's place on the table and are suppose to look like rectangle pillows (hard to give you a visual on this one, you'll just have to roll with me). And it is the hostess's duty to get them that way, all rec-tangly and pillowy. I suppose if a patron was extremely tired, you would want the napkin to be an appealing pillow for them to lay their head on. Regardless, I am terrible at it. The first time I tried Frank, another manager, came over and ripped the napkin out of my hand saying, “No, no- you fold it this way. You want it to have a nice, pillowy top.” So the next time I attempted to fold the napkins, my intention was simple: make them as pillowy as possible. Again, Frank comes over, grabs the napkin and says, “No, no- you want to fold it like this, with a nice little poof that rest gently on top.” “So my napkins are too pillowy?” I ask. “Yes,” he replies. I feel like I am in a restaurant version of Goldie Locks and the Three Bears: The first group of napkins Sarah folded was too flat. The second group of napkin Sarah folded was too puffy. But the third group of napkins Sarah folded (hopefully, I’m trying to use a self-fulfilling prophecy here) were juuuuust right. The End.

Except it’s not the end. Because then there is the issue of “lapping.” Once a dinner guest has taken their place at the table, it is my job as the hostess to “lap them.” In other words, I must unfold the pillowy, rectangle napkin sitting in front of them with one hand (because the other hand is holding the menus) and somehow manage to convert it into a triangle (the square napkin folded diagonally) and then gently place it over their lap. This is not a skill I acquired in my 24 years of life, and let me tell you it is a hard one to learn. Frank (again) rushed over one evening to show me how to do it properly. He explained that I couldn’t look all clumsy and awful doing it, but that I needed to add some grace and finesse when lapping customers. I love saying that, lapping customers- doesn’t it sound so dirty even though you know its not? Either way, I am a horrible napkin lapper, and now you know.

Finally, and this has nothing to do with napkins because I think I have exhausted that topic enough, I received my log-in number for work and learned how to sign in and out of my shift, and it is perhaps the coolest thing I have ever seen or done. Why? Because they have a machine that scans my finger to confirm my identity! How ridiculously cool. I feel like James Bond on a high security, top secret mission. Hostessing at the Summit Restaurant is clearly some serious business people, so don’t mess. 

Blue Mountain Excursion

On Wednesday, Sara, Aubrey, Alex and I embarked on an excursion to the Blue Mountains. (Alex, btw, is a friend of Sara's from University who has been in Sydney for 5 months. He leaves in a couple of days). The Blue Mountains are located two hours northwest of Sydney, and are a must-see attraction according to every travel book, company and person I have been in contact with. And so we went. Getting there required taking a 2 hour train ride to Katoomba, the town where the mountains are located. The Blue Mountains Explorer Bus Guide Book 2010 (I will be citing this book a lot) describes Katoomba as "a fun, quirky, historic and fascinating township overlooking the most visited tourist attraction in Australia." I don't know if I would go as far as to call it fun, quirky or fascinating, but I can't argue that it was certainly historic. I'd categorize it right along with a Saugerties, NY (wink, wink).

Upon arrival to Katoomba, we purchased a "hop-on, hop-off, all day" bus pass, which included tickets to the three rides at Scenic World. Really, these were just 3 means of transportation around the mountains: two cable cars and one railway. Not exactly the rides you will find at Six Flags. We began our voyage through the Blue Mountains with a ride on the Scenic Skyway. According to the guidebook, "The Skyway Cable Car takes visitors on a 300 metre (that's how they spell it down under) journey above ancient ravines and dazzling waterfalls with views of the internationally renowned Three Sisters rock formation." Getting on the cable car took a huge amount of faith. The view from it was spectacular. The Blue Mountains remind me slightly of the Catskill Mountains back home. This was the first time I had seen a waterfall from above, which was pretty darn cool. And the Three Sisters...well they were certainly three jagged rock formations. But honestly, they were much less impressive in person than the posters plastered all over Sydney make them out to be. Pretty small in size compared to the whole Blue Mountains range. And if the tour guided hadn't pointed them out, I'm not sure I would have even noticed them. Regardless, I am glad I saw them. I would have hated to miss seeing an Australian landmark that is world renowned.  

The Scenic Skyway Cable Car

View of the Blue Mountains from the Skyway Car

Fun Fact: Why are the Blue Mountains blue? The haze which appears to surround any distant object is due to an optical phenomenon called 'Rayleigh scattering'. This effect causes the rays of light which impinge on small particles to be scattered in various directions. The blue haze, unique to the Blue Mountains, is of a different hue and deeper than anywhere in the world. It is caused primarily by Eucalyptus trees emitting oil vapor into the atmosphere which along with fine dust particles and droplets of water vapour, scatter blue light (blue light is short wave-length) more than any other spectrum colour. (From the guide book). 

Katoomba Falls

The Three Sisters

Another Fun Fact: What is the legend of the Three Sisters? The Aboriginal dream-time legend has it that three sisters, Meehni, Wimlah and Gunnedoo, lived in the Jamison Valley as members of the Katoomba tribe. These beautiful young ladies had fallen in love with three brothers from the Nepean tribe, yet tribal law forbade them to marry. The brothers were not happy to accept this law and so decided to use force to capture the three sisters causing a major tribal battle. As the lives of the three sisters were seriously in danger, a witchdoctor from the Katoomba tribe took it upon himself to turn the three sisters into stone to protect them from any harm. While he had intended to reverse the spell when the battle was over, the witchdoctor himself was killed. As only he could reverse the spell to return the ladies to their former beauty, the sisters remain in their magnificent rock formation as a reminder of this battle for generations to come. (From the Blue Mt Tourist website: bluemts.com.au)

Posing with the Three Sisters and the Witch Doctor

Once across the ravines, we hopped on board the Scenic Railway, which the guide book says is the "steepest incline passenger railway in the world," to journey down the mountain and explore the "Jurassic rainforests" below. While waiting to board the trian, we saw wild Cockatoos which I had only ever seen before in a zoo. I was giddy like a little girl. Those birds are so darn cool with their yellow little mohawks. The railway ride was slow, but actually quite terrifying for a brief period where we were slanted at a ridiculously sharp incline. I was afraid to move for fear I would fall out of my seat and tumble down the rows of passengers ahead of me. Fortunately, there was a cage above our heads that prevented this catastrophe from coming to life. The rainforest down below didn't feel like a rainforest. Not that I have ever been to an actual rainforest, but this just seemed to me more like a plain 'ol Australian forest. I did feel as though I were walking around the set of Jurassic Park though, so the guidebook got that description right on. There were tons and tons of long, loopy branches hanging convoluted from the trees. These ignited the urge to jump onto them and swing gaily from tree to tree like George of the Jungle. I refrained from doing so. This place would be a heaven of a playground for monkeys. 

The Cockatoos

The Railway ride down

The Jurassic Rainforest

Loopy branches along the Scenic Walkway

After exploring the rainforest (and by exploring I simply mean walking along the carpeted trail they had laid out for us), we headed back up the mountain on the Scenic Cableway which "glides smoothly between the Scenic World and the forest floor 545 metres away." It was indeed a smooth ride. And a high one, offering the same stunning view of the mountain skyline in the distance. 

The Scenic Cableway

View from the cable car

We then hopped back on the bus and made our way to Leura Park. Here we went on an hour hike through the forest, over babbling brooks and up and down jagged slops, to reach the Leura Falls. Let me tell you, this hike was one awesome workout for my buns; they were burning. The Stairmaster ain't got nothing on these steps! The falls weren't the most impressive thing in the world, but it was still cool to see. As were these gorgeous red and blue colored birds we saw while waiting for the final bus to pick us up. If any birdie (the word I am using to refer to a person who knows birds) knows what they are called, please do share. Let me also tell you that travelling on that double decker bus was scarier than any of the three Scenic World rides we went on. It was the little (big) bus that could, except I wondered whether it couldn't. This bus, bless its soul, was jerking all over the place, put-putting about, and crawling up the many hills we faced. I really think passengers should sign a warranty before they step foot on that bus, because the thought of it toppling over and tumbling down the mountain side did not seem too far-fetched. But we made it back to the little town of Leura safe and sound, where we stopped for some Thai cusine before hopping on the train back to Sydney.

A babbling brook/waterfall along our trek

At a look-out post

The Leura Falls (i think)

The pretty birdies...name?

My Almost Debut on Australian TV

One of my managers, Tim, called me this afternoon.
     "Sarah," he says, "you're working tonight, right?"
     "Yes, I start at 4:30," I reply.
     "Ok, good," he says. "What's going on is that we're shooting a new television show tonight at the restaurant called The Boss Is Coming To Dinner (or something like that). Michael (as in Michael Moore, the owner- more about him in a moment) thinks you're great and wants you to be in it. You'll just have to say 'Welcome to the Summit Restaurant' and bring people to their seats, or something like that. Are you alright with that?"
     "Yea, sure!" I reply, trying to conceal the excitement brewing within me.
     "Great. Cool. Just wanted to check and make sure you were ok with being on TV. And to just give you a heads up. Not that you don't look great, but you know, tonight you wanna try and look extra great."

I hang up my cell phone. I've only been at my job for a week and they want me to be on television? The best adjective to describe my emotional state in this moment is elated. I rush to my room and begin polishing my best pearl earrings (I don't own any). I take out and iron my blackest of black shirts (I only brought one). I forgo eating dinner because they say the camera adds ten pounds (ha, me skip a meal? are you kidding? I just opted not to have the four bean salad I had initially planned on. The last thing I needed while on camera was to experience the unpleasant side effects of that magical fruit). I left myself a good 45 minutes to get to work (it takes me 20 minutes to get there). On my walk over, I thank the big guy above that the MASSIVE zit I woke up with this morning is located beneath of my chin. You know the kind that are so large and burrow so deep beneath your skin that they actually hurt? Yes, that kind. The fact that is popped up on the underside of my chin was odd, yes, but insignificant. I am just grateful that it didn't appeared on the front of my chin, the part people actually see, or even worse, smack-dab in the center of my forehead. Yes, I think, things are going my way.

I should have known better. I arrive to the Australia Tower, where the Summit is located, and enter the locker room to change. I fix my hair, throw on some lipstick, and slip into my black skirt. I pull on my black stocking and begin putting my heels on when I see it. There, starting at the very bottom of my heel and running all the way up the back of my calf, is a run. Not a small, barely-there run but a BIG 'OL run in my black tights. I gasp. I look at my watch. I've got ten minutes before I'm suppose to be at work. Maybe it's not that noticeable, I wonder. I look again. I gasp again. It is very noticeable. Unfortunately runs in tights are not a fashion statement that is in, especially at a classy restaurant where a television show is being filmed. I remember the store across the street where I had purchased tights the week before and decide to make a mad dash for it. I run in and search frantically for black tights, but all I see are black footless tights. (What is the point of footless tights? Stupid.) "Excuse me, " I say to the young worker nearby, "do you have plain black tights?" "No, we're all out." Of course. I run again, now even more frantically, to another store across the way. "Excuse me," I say panting, "do you have black tights?" She responds, "No. We have black leggings over there." I look at my watch, which now informs me I have 5 minutes before I need to be at work for my television cameo. A cameo that requires a pair of run-free black tights. "Well do you know where I can find black tights?" I ask, wondering what in the world I am going to do if she says no. "Try next door." I do, and they have black tights. They cost $23.00 AUD (Australian dollars). Yes. Twenty-three stinking dollars for a pair of black tights! But what other choice did I have? I fork over the cash. These tights better last me a lifetime, I think. I bolt back to work and change into my new tights (which I realize cost more than any other article of clothing I was wearing, btw). I wipe the sweat off my brow as the elevator takes me to the 47th floor, and step into the restaurant right on time.

Around the bend I see a bunch of lights and cameras. Scattered throughout the restaurant are television crew. Tim bustles by, gives a wave and says heartily, "Looking good for your television appearance." I smile back and take my place at the hostess stand. Even though they are filming, the restaurant is still open for business so I perform all my hostess duties as usual. A little while later, Michael Moore comes over and says something to the effect of, "So you're gonna be filmed this evening for the television show? They're probably just gonna have you greet and seat some guests." I respond that I am looking forward to it, and that it should be fun. We make some quick banter about the filming that has already occurred and about the show. Then he departs to continue filming.

A brief word about Michael Moore. He is a big deal in the culinary world and in Australia (you can read his bio here: http://www.summitrestaurant.com.au/michaelmoore/tabid/1678/language/en-US/Default.aspx). He explains to me that he has made an appearance on prime time television here and there, but that this is his first very own prime time television show. I'm not even sure what exactly the premise of the show is. What I gather is that it is some sort of cooking competition that involves a boss, maybe even two. Whether or not Michael is that boss I haven't quite figured out. But basically, what Gordon Ramsay is to the United Kingdom, Michael Moore is soon going to be to Australia. And he is my boss. And he thinks I'm cool enough to be on his show. Pausing to let that sink in. Ok, it has sunk. Now back to the events at hand.

An hour goes by. No word from the crew about filming my "scene." Another hour goes by. Then another. Still no word. It is now about 8:00pm. The main cast and crew are in the private dining room filming a scene. Most of our dinner patrons have come and gone. I am beginning to doubt that I will actually be filmed for this show. Tim (the manager who called me) comes over to the hostess stand.
     "So, have you filmed your scene yet?" He asks.
     "No," I reply. "Not yet."
     "Have they come over and talked to you about what you will be saying?" He inquires.
     "Nope." I shake my head no. I ask, "Are you sure they are doing that scene?"
     "Michael told me to ring you to tell you about it," he says. My hope returns.
     "Well I get the feeling that they may have cut that scene," I suggest.
     "Yea," Tim says, "they cut my scene out. I had lines and everything. And just like that they took it out. I even called my father to tell him that I was going to be on TV!" My hope dwindles, again.
     "Yea, I did that too," I admit sheepishly. Except that my parents are on the other side of the world, and I used precious pay-as-you-go Vodadphone minutes to call them before they went to sleep to tell them I was going to be on Australian TV. Oh yea, and I posted it on facebook for all the rest of the world to see. I don't share this with Tim, but rather scold myself for prematurely publicizing my television debut.

I carry on with my hostessing. It is approaching 9:00pm and Robert, a waiter, asks me to begin folding napkins. Usually, hearing the words "Can you please fold napkins" makes me happy because it means once I'm finished I can expect to go home. However, at this moment these words are like daggers in my ears because they strengthen what I fear to be true: that my appearance on Australian television is a no-go.  Suddenly, Michael turns the corner and approaches me. This is is, I think. This is the moment I have been waiting for. He has come to retrieve me to film my scene! Michael looks at me and says, "Well I guess we didn't need you after all. Thanks anyway." In an instant my hopes are dashed. My dreams shattered. "No worries," I reply. (See below: note about "No Worries"). I continue folding napkins.

Once relieved of my napkin-folding duties, I retreat back to the basement to change out of my over-priced tights and into a pair of jeans to walk home in. And what do you think I found upon exiting the building? It was raining out. This is the first time it has rained since I have been in Sydney. Coincidence? I think not. Even the big guy above is shedding tears because I was robbed of my 15 minutes of Australian television fame. And he is crying hard. I smile and shake my head amused. "Well," I think to myself as I wrestle with my umbrella in the rain and wind, "at least this will make for a good blog post." If I had a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream I would drown my sorrows in it. But I don't. And I can't afford one after splurging on my tights. So I have drowned my sorrows in this blog. Better on my waste-line anyway. Besides, this means I can save my 15 minutes of fame for an even better cameo on prime time television. Preferably one where I get to eat the scrumptious culinary creations, rather than watching others chow down on them.

Despite being snubbed, it was pretty cool watching them film the television show. Really though, who am I kidding? It was way cool. And how can I hold a grudge against an establishment that gave me a job where I can watch the sun set over Sydney each and every night? Especially tonight, when I saw fireworks over the Sydney Opera House. I just cannot do it. I cannot hold a single grudge. In fact, I am quite excited to watch the show when it airs on television! It's going to be a big hit. I just know it.

A note about "No Worries": "No worries" is the Australian phrase of choice. They say it in response to everything, even when no worrying is involved.  For example, tonight I telephoned people to confirm their dinner reservations at the restaurant tomorrow evening. After confirming with one woman, I said something along the lines of, "We look froward to seeing you tomorrow night" to which she replied, "Yep, no worries." Ah, I wasn't worried. Not in the least bit. In fact, if anyone should be worried lady it should be you since you're the one who may or may not have a dinner reservation at the coolest joint in town. And I just told you that you do. So really I should be telling you not to have worries. No? But alas, these Australians say "No worries" to everything, regardless of the situation. Its just the way it is. And now you know.

Had a FERRY Happy Day

Saturday I went with my two new mates (Aussie word for friend, amigo, pal, etc.), Sara and Brye, on an excursion to Manly. I met Sara at my RSA training class. She too had just arrive from the states and was looking for people to explore Sydney with. Sara introduced me to Brye, who she met through a mutual friend and works as an American au pair about a half hour outside Sydney. Manly is a beach and town across the Sydney Harbor which requires you to take a ferry to get there. Possibly the most stunning commute anyone in the world has to take. Life must be so hard for these Manly folks. I know I found taking in the exquisite views of Sydney from the water to be pretty taxing.

Sydney from the ferry

View from ferry

In Manly you will find beautiful beaches, an aquarium, and stretches of shops and cafes. Famish from the trip over, we first grabbed fish and chips from a small place that advertised it was voted "the best." I, however, may have to disagree with that claim do to one small, but significant fact: I had to pay for tomato sauce, otherwise known as ketchup. If you ask for ketchup they will look at you like you have ten heads. It's tomato sauce down under. This irks me slightly because tomato sauce is what you put on a heaping bowl of pasta. Regardless, my problem is not that I had to order "tomato sauce" but that I had to pay a pretty penny for it. It cost $1.90 for a small container of ketchup! I kid you not. Erroneous. Or I could buy a teeny, tiny ketchup packet that would cover one flimsy chip (french fry) for 50 cents. I went with this option because I refused to fork over 2 dollars for a red condiment that in the states is free and practically as plentiful as water. Then when I tried to open this shrimp of a ketchup packet, it exploded on my coat. Of course. So I would classify this fish 'n chips shop as mediocre at best. Moving on.

We snacked on our lunch while lounging on the beach. And then proceeded to lounge on the beach. It was pretty stressful. There were a ton of people in the water which I found surprising because it is winter here, and even though the sun was shining brightly, the wind was blowing more fiercely. I thought it was quite chilly. But those manly surfers disagreed. They flocked to the ocean waters, board in hand, and surfed the day away. I was reminded of the Beach Boy's classic, Surfing USA, except everybody's going surfing in Australia (obviously). 

Sara & Brye enjoying their fish 'n chips

Lounging on the beach (stolen pic from Brye)

Coastline

The remainder of the day consisted of more beach lounging, and then strolling around the shops, street fairs and beaches. On our way back to the ferry to return to Sydney, we grabbed gourmet Swedish ice cream. As we stood waiting for the ferry, I looked around me and noticed that every single person around me was waiting with ice cream in hand and I thought to myself, "What a wonderful world." Then on the ferry we saw a whale! I was more excited than a kid in Disney World. It was the first time I have ever seen a whale in the wild. So gosh darn cool. I tried to snap a pic of Shamu. If you look very closely, way out in the distance you will see a black spot. That's him! You will just have to take my word.

Whale spotting

Indeed we did! It was a ferry happy, relaxing day.