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It was now 7pm. I was exhausted following the ten-hour hitch and getting a bit desperate as car after car passed me, despite the placard I held which read 'FRANCE: £10?' Just as the streetlights began to buzz a van screeched to a halt a couple of hundred metres down the road, I grabbed my impossibly heavy rucksack and lurched after them. "Ten Quid?" he asked, before opening the door of their small van. I was to share the back with several crates of beer that they'd just bought in the duty free...

European Tales: Switzerland 1996, a lengthy tale

Joseph Tame
2006-06-30 17:53:26

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approved of my proper English, (it wasn't like "that terrible accent those Cockneys have"), she went on to explain that yes, they did have a vacancy for a waiter, and when could I start? I couldn't believe my luck, and was even happier when she told me that I'd receive £800 a month pocket money, in addition to full bed and board.

And so that was that. I was told that my work permit would arrive at the address I gave in about a fortnight. Having phoned home with the news, I returned to Adelheid's apartment feeling jubilant; all I had to do was wait for the permit to arrive.In the end it was a month before it appeared in the post box. During this time I lived with my aunt who was very generous in looking after me. However, it was difficult for us both, and despite the effort that she put into keeping me entertained I think that we were both glad when I could finally return to the mountain. And so it was, that on Monday, the fourteenth of October 1996, I started work at the Scheidegg Hotel. My first shock came when I was shown my room. It was situated in a kind of three-storey cow shed; I had thought that the bedsit in Hereford was small, but then, I hadn't seen this 2.5m x 2.5m cupboard. The door couldn't be opened properly as it would come up against the wardrobe, and the actual clear floor space was limited to a strip, 45cm wide by my bed. Still, I was determined to throw off my old hang-ups, and accepted it with a laugh. The first person to introduce themselves was Alex, a tall and seemingly self-confident Portuguese guy, a year or two older than myself. He was friendly, and soon started to explain to me how to relate to his colleagues (most of whom were also Portuguese). I also learnt that we really were isolated - once that six o'clock train had gone, there was no way you could get away from Scheidegg, (although we were later to prove this wrong...).

The first few weeks passed slowly. With the bad weather of autumn ...