We woke up to foggy mist on Thursday, and followed our usual routine… wake up, get dressed, and have breakfast. Bill went to work, and I went back to bed. I noticed the crowd in the breakfast room had thinned somewhat as some participants had already left the conference. I met one of Bill’s colleagues from Wiesbaden. He wouldn’t be the first of Bill’s co-workers I would meet in Mons on Thursday.

Once I was up for the day, I decided to take a walk to a different part of the city. I walked off the main drag toward some trees with yellow leaves on them. I correctly assumed it was a park, and I was definitely ready to find it. I craved peace and serenity, given the apprehensive mood of the events in November 2024 and what it all might mean for the future. I took a few photos and walked toward a bench. That’s when I noticed a lone rooster pecking the ground. He was surrounded by pigeons. I wondered what the rooster was doing in Mons. I’m sure there is an explanation. After all, I also saw wild chickens in Key West, Florida.

I sat down on another bench, near the pigeons, which had scattered once I took photos of the rooster. After a moment, the whole flock of them took off, beating the air enough that I could feel it on my face. I was grateful none of them bombed me with shit.

After a short break, I got up to leave the park area and noticed a little brasserie on the corner called La Fontaine. It looked like a neighborhood gem. It was too early for lunch, though, so I made a mental note of it and started walking in a different direction. At one point, a woman in a car stopped me and asked me something in French. I answered in English that I’m an American. She apologized and moved on. I guess I can pass for a local in Belgium, too. 😉

I was soon approaching the collegiate church that I had visited on Wednesday, except on Thursday, there was no sunshine. It gave the church a different look, so I took more photos…

I started walking down another street and noticed I was near the train station, which in Mons, looks a bit like a spaceship. I was actually thinking it reminded me of the Sports Complex in Yerevan, Armenia, across the street from where I once lived. I kept walking, trying to decide where to stop for a closer look. I headed up another street, and noticed what appeared to be a tower. I headed toward it and finally reached it, but was left kind of disappointed. It was a tower, but it was fenced off, with no information about what it was. I looked it up online. It turned out to be the Tower of the Val des Ecoliers, and it was in a state of disrepair. What a pity. But I did get photos, which you can see below.

I looked at my watch and realized it was almost lunchtime, so I started to make my way back toward the Grand Place. The weather had turned mistier and chillier, but I noticed that the group of tiny schoolchildren I passed were not upset about it. I smiled as I watched children hold hands and cheerfully walk through a quiet neighborhood. There were children of all races in the group, happily co-existing. I wish more of the adults in America were that wise.

I hemmed and hawed as I considered where I wanted to go for lunch. I finally noticed the Leffe Plaza Bar was open. I walked into the place, which was empty, save for a very young bartender who appeared to be getting ready for the lunch crowd. He didn’t speak much English, but his English was better than my French. I conveyed to him that I hoped to have lunch, and he invited me to take a seat at the back of the dining room. I was glad for that, as it made me feel less conspicuous. A few more people showed up a bit later.

The bartender was very nice and brought me a couple of large beers, along with the burger I ordered. As usual, the burger turned out to be pretty messy and too big to eat with my hands. I had to cut it up. But it tasted good, and Belgian beer is always a treat. Also, the frites were outstanding. No one does fries like the Belgians do. I just wish they offered ketchup instead of mayo. I guess I could have asked, but that seems like such an American thing to do. After lunch, I was feeling a bit tipsy, so I decided to go back to the hotel for a rest.

While I waited for Bill, I decided to make a video for my YouTube channel. I usually post music on that channel, but when I’m traveling, I can’t so easily do that. So I made a talking video… and I was a little drunk when I did it. It was political in nature, so I’m not going to add it here. Suffice to say, if you’re interested, you can easily find it if you know where to look.

Finally, evening arrived, and Bill got back to the hotel. It was the last night before the conference would end, so we decided to go out to dinner. There was a place I noticed that was packed every night, so I was eager to try it out. It was called La Vache à Carreaux (The Checkered Cow). Just as we were deciding whether or not to go inside, a group of men approached. They turned out to be guys from Bill’s conference. They work at Patch Barracks in Stuttgart, where Bill once worked 15 years ago.

Although we didn’t have reservations, the friendly wait staff managed to find us a table. We were in the same room as Bill’s colleagues were. One of them joked that we were going into the restaurant, in spite of the fact that one of the guys in the group was present. I didn’t get the joke at first, because I didn’t know any of the men. But I soon realized why the guy had made the subtle warning. In that group of three men, there was a guy who wrote the book on being loud and obnoxious.

Bill and I ordered beer and dinner. I had decided on the duck confit, which looked excellent and I assumed correctly that it would be mushroom free. The obnoxious guy also ordered duck confit. While we were waiting for our food, he proceeded to regale everyone in the restaurant about his foodie cred. He spoke very loudly about his love of foie gras, and how he prepares duck confit. He loudly opined about fine wines and gourmet food, bragging about how he has guys in Alsace and Lorraine who procure the best French products for him and ship it all directly to his German address. It was very annoying, because he was epitomizing all of the worst stereotypes about Americans.

But then… he started talking about how foie gras is made. I don’t like foie gras in any case, but especially since I know how it’s made. I don’t want to get into the specifics here, but basically geese are force fed until their livers become fatty. It’s pretty barbaric, in my opinion, and although I’m not a vegetarian, that’s a delicacy I can skip because I don’t like it, and the process of making it is very cruel. I generally don’t eat veal for the same reason. As he extolled the virtues of eating foie gras, the guy bellowed “People who think the method of making foie gras is cruel are ‘fucking retarded.’ It’s all a bunch of bullshit!”

Bill got a load of the expression on my face, which had dissolved into pure bitchface. I can be loud and obnoxious myself, when the mood strikes, but since we’ve been in Europe, Bill and I have adopted a policy of speaking quietly when we’re in public. It’s a courtesy thing. This guy was sharing his views with EVERYONE– not just his work buddies, but Bill and me, the wait staff, and the Belgians who were trying to enjoy their dinners. Nevertheless, dinner was delicious, and we did stay for dessert… but cut out of there quickly once that was over.

I can see why La Vache à Carreaux is often full. The food and service were very good. I would go back. But if I do go back, I hope it will be when those guys aren’t around to talk about foie gras and swear in front of everyone. I feel sorry for that obnoxious blowhard’s wife. But then, I guess a lot of people feel sorry for Bill, too. 😀