A Wednesday in Mons… (part three)

Wednesday morning in Mons started much like Tuesday did. Bill and I got up and went to breakfast, ate the same mediocre chow, and kissed each other goodbye. I went back to bed for awhile, and then got up for a walk around Mons. We had some rare sunshine on Wednesday, so that was a nice thing.

The sunny weather led me to the Belfry of Mons, which I hadn’t known anything about before our arrival. My German friend had mentioned it to me, but I thought it was in the church on the main drag. Not so… this is a tower that you can pay 9 euros to ascend. It even has an elevator that will take you most of the way up. I didn’t want to go up the tower without Bill, so I decided to put off a visit. Of course, on Friday, when Bill was free, it was cloudy again. Shucks. Well, maybe we can visit again and go up the tower then. I did read reviews of the Belfry and they indicated that at no point are visitors able to take in views outside.

I kept walking and wound up at another church… one that was even more beautiful to me than St. Elisabeth’s. Sainte Waudru Collegiate Church is a very impressive gothic church that dates from the 15th century. It’s currently undergoing some refurbishment, but it’s open for visitors. I was feeling prayerful again, so I sat for awhile and took in the awesome beauty inspired by faith in God. I even lit a few candles, although I’m not Catholic. It helped lightened my purse. Who knows? Maybe God heard my pleas… er prayers… Someday, I’m going to make a video of all of the beautiful churches we’ve seen since we’ve been in Europe.

Below are some photos from Wednesday’s walk…

After a couple of hours of walking, it was soon lunchtime. I thought about where I might like to have lunch, but then realized I needed to go to the grocery store for some hair conditioner. The shampoo in the hotel was irritating my scalp and drying out my hair.

So I walked to the Delhaize, which looked very familiar to me with its lion logo. You see, I am from the southeastern United States– Virginia to be precise– and there, we had many Food Lion stores. Food Lion used to be called Food Town, but in 1983, they changed the name. Well… as I research this blog post, I have discovered that Food Lion is, in fact, owned by Delhaize, and has been since 1974. Aha!

I never liked shopping at Food Lion, although I will admit that it’s been quite some time since my last visit. To me, it was always a very no frills grocery store with bright lighting that was too sterile for my eyes. Of course, when you’re broke, as I was when I was single and for a good portion of my marriage, it’s a good place to get groceries. But I have alway preferred shopping at fancier places. I see that Ahold Delhaize also owns Giant, which is a store I used to go to a lot when I lived in the northern Virginia area.

Anyway, Delhaize is a Belgian company, and they have Delhaize stores in Belgium. I didn’t find shopping there to be like going to Food Lion, except for the lion logo. The lighting wasn’t as harsh, for one thing. When I went into the store, I noticed that it was very busy, as a lot of students from the high school were there getting lunch. That’s what I decided to do, too. I bought some sushi, sparkling water, and a beer– a Kwak Rouge, which is a kriek (cherry lambic). Then I got some conditioner and deodorant, since I couldn’t find the deodorant I thought I’d packed. I actually did pack deodorant, but it was buried deeply in the recesses of my Red Oxx bag. I had a brief moment of disorientation as the Delhaize payment system involves putting cash and change in a machine, rather than giving it to a cashier.

I went back to the hotel and had lunch as I watched Little House on the Prairie in French. The sushi wasn’t great, but it got me through the afternoon. Then I did some reading and napping as I waited for Bill to come back after his conference. Later, we went out to dinner at a little Tunisian place called the La Petite Couscoussiere. We noticed it on our first night in Mons, and it was consistently busy. Fortunately, they had room for us on that Wednesday night. I know Bill loves going to ethnic restaurants.

Below are some photos from our visit to the little Tunisian place… I’ve actually been to Tunisia, but it was over New Year’s 1977/78. I have fond memories of our visit to Sousse, when I was a little blonde five year old. The Tunisians spoiled me with candy and fruit! I’d love to visit there again, now that I’m blonde again.

We enjoyed the Tunisian place, except for the fact that the woman sitting behind me was a bit drunk. She hung her purse on the back of my chair and kept staggering around. At one point, she hugged a woman at another table. I assume they knew each other, although she was clearly tipsy. I didn’t notice it, because my back was to her, but Bill said she was sitting with two guys. One appeared to be her date. The other appeared to be a friend of the guy, and it was clear that he was a bit annoyed with her. So was I. Hang your purse on your own chair, lady!

After dinner, we visited a bar called Le Central for a nightcap… We just had one, though, because it was clear the barkeep was wanting to close up as he pulled all the shades an hour before the posted closing time. It was no big deal, since Thursday was a work day, anyway.

After our nightcap, we walked back to the hotel for another night of rest. The next day, we would discover a great local spot for dinner… and hear a very obnoxious American guy embarrass us among Belgians. Stay tuned for the next installment.

art, Bars, Champagne Bucket trips, churches, Iceland

Our first Icelandic adventure: A day in Reykjavik! (part three)

Whenever we travel with the intention of cruising or touring, I like to schedule free time that allows us to explore on our own. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not that good at group tours. I like to look at things at my own pace and wander, as this means I might find things I wouldn’t have ordinarily found. However, I know that doing things on my own can mean that I will miss out on “important” stuff.

For instance, when Bill and I went to Bulgaria in June, I had wanted to see caves that I had read about before our journey. Unfortunately, I got sick and needed a day in bed, which significantly cut down on our time to see things. Consequently, we missed out on the caves. Maybe if we’d hired a guide, I would have hauled my ass out of bed.

For our trip to Iceland, I knew I’d want to have a look at Reykjavik before we left the city for more rural locales. We asked Iceland Luxury Tours to give us Fridays off, which they happily did for us. Bill and I spent the day getting the lay of the land, visiting museums, and drinking local beers.

The first morning in Iceland, we went down to the buffet breakfast offered at the hotel and found ourselves a table in the bustling restaurant. I immediately noticed a very busy “mama bear” type, trying to get her family ready for an excursion. She had two bored looking teenagers with her, both of whom had their noses buried in their phones. I kept hearing her address one of them– “Colby”– which she said over and over again in imperative language. She ordered them to hurry up and finish breakfast. She ordered them to go to the bathroom. She ordered them to get ready for the trip. Soon enough, “Dad” showed up to let them know that their driver was there for them. Another woman– maybe the mom’s sister, based on her looks– came over to help mom herd the teens out of the restaurant.

Once again, I was struck by how very loud Americans are compared to Europeans. I used to be a lot louder than I am now, but changed my ways after years of living here. A lot of times, people think Bill and I are Germans. Then they hear us speak. Maybe I should try to trip them up by wearing Jack Wolfskin clothes and moving my wedding ring to my right hand.

After breakfast, we headed out into the city… which really feels more like a big village, compared to other European cities. The weather was rainy and windy, but not very cold. A large group of Americans were behind us, making me feel kind of nervous. I don’t like it when any big group is right behind me, but the loud talking was making me feel more on edge. I decided to turn left, off the main drag, and head in another direction. Very soon, we found ourselves standing at the entrance of a very interesting museum…

The Icelandic Phallological Museum is a museum dedicated to the penis. The museum was founded in 1997 by a retired teacher named Sigurður Hjartarson. Hjartarson’s fascination with all things penis related began when he was a child and someone gave him a cattle whip made out of a bull’s penis. From there, he collected all sorts of specimens from a variety of different animals, to include human beings. The museum also features art– sculptures, paintings, and other items that are related to his interests.

I don’t actually like looking at penises myself, but I’m kind of obnoxious. I could never pass up the chance to visit a museum dedicated to dicks, even if I’m not really interested in looking at them. I have to admit, the Phallological Museum was interesting and educational. I got a bunch of photos, and was almost tempted to buy a t-shirt. It wasn’t a terrible place to spend an hour, although our guide later told us that he’d never been to the museum. He said the founder was racist and against women’s rights. I don’t know how true that is… but that’s what our guide told us. Anyway, we didn’t know that before our visit. Even if we did know about it, we probably would have still visited. Below are some photos from our visit to the world’s only museum dedicated to penises…

*People were allowed to write on this white board…*

After we visited the phallological museum, Bill and I walked around a bit, until we wound up at the Harpa Concert Hall, a state of the art music venue that houses the Icelandic Symphony and Opera. The Harpa Concert Hall also includes exhibits, shops, restaurants, and even a very nice children’s area. Bill was going to visit the restroom, but he lacked Icelandic coins. Actually, he probably could have used his credit or debit card; Iceland is pretty much cashless nowadays. As we were about to leave the building, I noticed a place with a bunch of egg shaped chairs. It was a “virtual reality tour”, using special virtual reality glasses.

On a whim, we decided to try the Saga VR tour. I had never used virtual reality glasses before, but I had seen them offered by Apple. Using the glasses, we could watch short films about the different regions of Iceland as if we were there. The chairs were designed to offered a 360 degree experience with sort of a private feeling. While we didn’t experience all of the really cool stuff featured in the films, the virtual reality tour did kind of whet our appetites for our guided visit to Iceland’s hinterlands. The videos were made with drones and the whole thing took less than 15 minutes, but it was still kind of an interesting experience for us. I also got a few photos…

*The ceiling of the Harpa Concert Hall.*

After we finished our VR tour, we walked back into the wind and rain, passing by the SH Vega, a brand new luxury cruise ship by Swan Hellenic, as well as the Windstar Star Pride, a ship that used to be owned by Seabourn. I’m actually kind of interested in the SH Vega. I might have to read up on that ship. I took a few more photos from the harbor area…

Finally, we found our way to the Reykjavik Art Museum Hafnarhús, one of three related art museums in the city. The ticket we purchased was good at all three museums, but we only had time to go to one, which wasn’t all that large, but did include some fascinating exhibits. I especially enjoyed one called Flood (Flóð), done by an artist named Jónsi. The exhibit is a spatial, scent, and sound sculpture. We spent some time in there, listening to the sounds, smelling the scent, and walking on what felt like sand.

Cool!

There were also other thought provoking exhibits at the museum. Naturally, I took photos!

Part of another exhibit in the art museum.

*This exhibit was about seasonal affective disorder.*

It was about lunchtime when we left the art museum. We walked around a bit, in search of food that was appealing. Instead, we ended up at an Irish pub called The Dubliner… supposedly the first one in Reykjavik. We had a round of beer…

But then we moved on, since The Dubliner didn’t appear to have food available. After walking around a bit, we found ourselves at an interesting bar called Lemmy. We really enjoyed Lemmy, as the bartender was super friendly, and they had a bunch of beers on tap. They also played great music. But something odd was happening during our visit. There was a film crew there, making a movie in one of the bathrooms. They had put a toilet in the dining area… I didn’t get a close look at it, but Bill said they’d fixed the toilet to look like someone had used it and didn’t flush. The crew was there during most of our visit, which probably lasted longer than it should have.

Lemmy did have food, although the menu was very limited. I ordered chicken wings, but they were too spicy and messy for me. I didn’t enjoy them. Bill had nachos that were marginally better than my wings were. The music and beer, though… that was all top notch! You can see the heavily graffitied bathrooms in the photo. I guess that was why they were filming in there.

*Maybe we should have done the walking tour…*

After lunch, we walked to the other side of the city and ventured toward Hallgrímskirkja, an iconic Lutheran church that was opened in Reykjavik in 1986. We took the Rainbow Street (in honor of Reykjavik Pride) to get there, mainly so I could take photos. On the day of our first visit, the inside of the church was closed because a bishop was visiting. Because the weather was poor, we decided not to go up the tower on that day. We did go up a week later. I’ll provide information on that experience when I get to that post. For now, here are more photos.

After all of that activity and walking, we decided to go back to the hotel. It was so dark and dreary outside, we decided to just stay in and enjoy the evening in our room. At one point, Bill went out and bought us slices of Sbarro Pizza from a grocery store and soft drinks, since one must go to a liquor store to buy booze. The Sbarro pizza was kind of a treat. I used to enjoy Sbarro a lot when I was younger, but now that malls are disappearing in the USA, so is that pizza. But you can still get it in Iceland. Go figure!

I know we should have had dinner somewhere, but I have to ease into activity… Besides, the next morning, we would be starting our tour with Iceland Luxury Tours. More on that in the next post!

Bars, Rhein, Rheinland-Pfalz

An afternoon at Sixties in Mainz…

We had amazing weather yesterday. It was so nice outside that I couldn’t bear to stay at home. I thought maybe we’d hunt for a festival or something, and we would have found one if we had gone to Frankfurt. There are several going on right now. But, for some reason, we decided to go to Mainz. Bill missed a turn to go to the downtown area, and we ended up in a part of town we hadn’t seen before.

As we were passing through, I noticed an interesting looking bar called Sixties. It advertised a lot of craft beers, which is kind of an unusual thing in Germany. So, although our plan had originally been to go downtown, we wound up parking and trying out Sixties, which also advertised music. When we walked into the bar, there was no music. Instead, all of the televisions were tuned to football– aka soccer– and the waitress warned us that pretty soon, a bunch of people would be crowded in there to watch the game.

I took a look around and noticed that the bar looked kind of “Irish pub-ish”, with low tables and stools, stained glass windows, and booths. We found a table with no reservation card on it and ordered a couple of beers. I had a Leffe Blonde and Bill had a Eulchen Marzen made in Mainz. Then we ordered snacks. Sixties has a rather limited menu. They have bar food, pizza, a couple of pasta dishes, and schnitzels, but it’s really more of a place to drink rather than eat. We had chicken strips, jalapeno poppers, and pretzels with Spundkaese.

One thing I noticed was that the waitress brought us wet glasses, complete with a little bit of water in the bottom. I can’t say I liked that very much, but at least the glasses were clean. We were impressed by how many beers they offered, too. They even had a beer from Sweden, as well as a number of British and Irish beers. I was surprised they didn’t have more Belgian choices other than Leffe, but a lot of German bars don’t even have that, so it was cool.

Here are a few photos from our visit:

*Not much to the food part of the menu.*

After a couple of hours at Sixties, we paid the kindly, English speaking waitress, and headed down the street to our car. On the way there, we stopped in a fancy looking grocery store that appeared to have all natural “whole foods”. Of course, we were there to buy wine and look for Calvados, since the neighbor’s apple tree has been dumping apples in our yard and we need to do something with them. We didn’t find Calvados in that store, but we did pick up some wine.

We enjoyed Sixties. I don’t know how often we’ll visit there, since there are a lot of other places in Mainz we haven’t yet tried. It did look like a popular hangout for the locals. If you want to watch football and drink beers that aren’t German, it’s a good bet. I can’t comment on the music, but I did notice that there was a lot of memorabilia on the wall, particularly regarding the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. So it does look like they have good taste when it comes to music, anyway…

Bars, Hessen

A little Scotch N’ Soda… an Irish pub in Wiesbaden

We almost didn’t make it out yesterday. It rained until the afternoon and Bill spent most of the morning and early afternoon in search of Betadine for Arran’s paw. I had some when we lived in Stuttgart, but it somehow got displaced during the move. I’m sure I’ll find it when I don’t need it anymore.

Bill’s search sent him to several stores and a couple of pharmacies, where he finally scored a small bottle for about 16 euros. Some things in Germany are way more expensive than they are in the United States. I’m going to order some from Amazon to have on hand.

When the much needed rain finally let up, I told Bill that I really needed to get out of the house. It’s mostly been a depressing week without Zane around, and I was in need of some fun. A person in my Facebook wine group was in Wiesbaden yesterday, and she recommended a visit to Scotch N’ Soda, an Irish pub downtown. I also knew there was an international food festival going on. So, although it was early evening and rain was still threatening, we headed that way. I must add, Arran was a perfect gentleman while we were gone.

We started out with the festival. It turned out to be pretty small, although there were some interesting looking food booths there. But because it was getting late, and the weather wasn’t cooperative, it appeared that some of them were closing. I took a few pictures anyway. I seem to remember a larger incarnation of this festival in Esslingen and Stuttgart in years past.

We didn’t stick around the fest for long, though, since it appeared to be wrapping up. The church bells were going off extremely loudly, so I kind of wanted to get out of the area. They went on for several long minutes…

*But I did take time to hit the loo… and the graphics on this truck amused me, even if the condition of the WC didn’t.*

We took a stroll around the area, looking for dinner. I had Scotch N’ Soda in my head, but wasn’t averse to trying a different restaurant. I love a good Italian place, although I have had enough Italian food in Wiesbaden and really need to branch out. When we got to the Irish pub, it wasn’t hard to make the decision to go inside.

Scotch N’ Soda is located near a kind of “restaurant row”. There are a bunch of eateries there, including the excellent La Cantinetta, where we’ve dined a couple of times so far. La Cantinetta was very busy yesterday and I wasn’t in the mood to be upsold on expensive wines and appetizers. By contrast, Scotch N’ Soda is very much a low key place. It has a cozy round dining room, with lots of tables and chairs… almost too many for the room. One can also go upstairs, where I assume there’s more seating.

*Bill was excited because they have haggis.*

Scotch N’ Soda has a sports bar like atmosphere. You can sit outside, weather permitting, so sit inside and listen to British rock or watch European football. I commented to Bill that this place appears to be Wiesbaden’s version of “The Auld Rogue”, which only makes sense if you’ve also lived in Stuttgart.

The Auld Rogue in Vaihingen was a Greek restaurant called Taverna Faros when we first moved there in 2007. It later turned into a really shitty dance bar, then eventually became a very successful American hangout, where everyone speaks English. Bill and I visited The Auld Rogue many times during our most recent Stuttgart stint. I’ve blogged about it plenty of times.

Well… Scotch N’ Soda seems to be Wiesbaden’s version. Lots of Americans were there last night, and more than a few appeared to be affiliated with the U.S. military. However, I don’t think Scotch N’ Soda is quite as comfortable as The Auld Rogue is. It’s definitely not as large. I was impressed by their beer selection, though, which was better than The Auld Rogue’s. And their menu was also somewhat different, and somewhat less kid friendly.

I enjoyed the fish and chips. I couldn’t quite finish them, so the waitress kindly offered to box them up for me. Bill and I were admiring all of the whiskies on display. They had a nice variety of them from Ireland and Scotland. I counted how many whose distilleries I’ve now seen. Bill liked the cottage pie, which had some spice to it. I was kind of laughing to myself, though, because it was just such a “British” dish in the traditional sense. Britain is not exactly known for its food, although good food can definitely be had there if you know what to order. I happen to love British food, but that’s because it’s mainly comfort food. It’s not really “highbrow”. That cottage pie was decidedly not “highbrow”, but Bill liked it.

One guy at the bar did order a burger. I don’t know which one he had, but it had two very thick patties on it. I wondered if it was the “Fuck You” burger they had advertised in the menu. It looked pretty good, but again, I have been disappointed by burgers in Germany too many times to take a chance. Maybe next time, Bill will get one and I can determine if I’ll ever take the plunge. They did also have other sandwiches made with chicken or salmon, as well as soups, ribs, steaks, and even breakfast.

The bill came to about 37 euros. Bill rounded up to 40 and we made our way home. As he was paying for the parking, I couldn’t help but notice this manic looking ad for dental implants.

*I’m not sure if I’d trust this guy with my teeth. He looks a little crazed. German ads crack me up.*

It’s raining again today. We definitely need the rain. I’m kind of hoping we can go to Mainz, though, since today is the last day of the wine market. We’ll see what happens.

Bars

The Esquire Tavern of San Antonio… what a pretentious shithole!

I wasn’t going to write more tonight because I’m in such a foul mood. But then a friend of mine, who read my latest TripAdvisor review of the Esquire Tavern of San Antonio, said I could have “scathed” more. And since I’m in a shitty mood tonight, maybe it’s a good time to write an expanded review of this bar, which disappointed the hell out of me and Bill.

Yesterday was Bill’s 49th birthday. Late in the afternoon, we were hoping for a couple of celebratory cocktails. Bill loves a good martini, but rarely gets to have them when he’s not at home because he does most of the driving and does not wish to drive while intoxicated. Since we were staying in downtown San Antonio and there are a lot of bars in the area that we could walk to, we figured it would be no problem finding a place that could hook us up, even though it was a Sunday.

Originally, we were going to go to the Mexican Manhattan Restaurant, which we know has excellent and inexpensive margaritas. But that place was closed… and then I spied the steps leading up from the Riverwalk to the Esquire Tavern, which promised lots of interesting beers on tap. We walked up the metal steps leading to the second storey of the building and entered the bar, notable because it has the longest wooden bar in Texas and has been operating since Prohibition ended in 1933– the year my dad was born. Actually, we heard that the bar closed for a few years in the 2000s, then opened again. It has a young chef who is supposedly really good at her craft. Not that we’d know. No one gave us a menu or anything.

Our initial impression of the place was decent. A couple of people said hello as we walked in. We nodded a greeting. I liked the bar’s ambiance, which was kind of dim and elegant. We sat down at the very long bar on leather covered barstools with backs. So far, so good. I noticed a lot of really interesting looking gins, which I knew Bill would like. He loves trying new things and doesn’t mind paying a premium if it means he gets to taste something unique. Curiously, I didn’t see any beer taps, but in a pinch, I like cocktails too. The barkeeps at the Esquire Tavern could have easily made me happy and earned a nice tip for their troubles. Alas, they couldn’t be bothered.

We sat there and waited. And waited. There were at least three bartenders behind the bar– so far as I could tell, anyway. One guy had a beard that resembled Rasputin’s and appeared to be trying very hard to impress a couple of young ladies with his flare bartending skills. I know he saw us. He looked right at us. But he didn’t even say hello or kiss my ass or anything… and neither did any of his colleagues. Time passed and we were feeling more and more stupid by the second.

I could tell Bill was getting really pissed. He’s usually a very mild mannered guy and rarely gets upset with people. Being ignored the way we were was making him feel foolish, which is one thing he can’t abide. Since it was his birthday, “foolish” was definitely no way for him to feel. We waited over ten minutes for some sign that these people wanted our business and could make us a decent cocktail or two. We got nada.

I was very puzzled by the reception we were getting in this place. I mean, all they had to do was say hello and let us know they’d be with us shortly. I don’t mind waiting if the staff is really busy. But it was like we were invisible. The reception we were getting was very cold and felt deliberately unwelcoming.

When another couple came in after us and the bartender spoke to them and continued to ignore us, I just looked at Bill and said, “Let’s go.”

Poor Bill. It’s bad enough turning 49 without being completely dissed in a bar. I was shocked by how rudely we were treated. I can’t remember an experience in a bar or restaurant quite as awesomely shitty as what we experienced at the Esquire Tavern.

We walked out of there feeling really low and embarrassed. And we had NO REASON to feel low or embarrassed. I mean, we’re normal people… or at least we appear that way. But it was like they had no need for our business. I am generally pretty lenient when it comes to people who work in restaurants. I worked in one myself for awhile and I always figured no server or bartender in their right mind would purposely give someone bad service… not when they typically get paid practically nothing by the bar or restaurant and depend on tips. There were times when I unintentionally gave bad service when I was weeded out of my mind. I might have been much more patient had the Esquire Tavern been really crowded or busy. It wasn’t, though. There were plenty of empty tables and it looked like there were a lot of people on duty. I see from reading Yelp! and TripAdvisor that people other than us had complaints like ours about terrible service. Do they not like tourists? Hey– in a few weeks, we won’t be tourists; we’ll be residents!

Bill was still fuming about it as we walked down the street. We went to the Menger Bar, which was at our hotel, and mentioned what happened to us to the bartender on duty. The bartender dished a bit about the place. He said he went there once and they tried to talk him out of the drink he wanted. He also told us that the bar was a bit hyped. Granted, he was a bartender at a competing bar, also very historic since that was where Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders hung out back in the day. Maybe we should take what he said with a grain of salt.

Bill and I are good drinkers and good tippers. We like good food. We shower regularly. I was even wearing makeup, for Chrissakes!

It doesn’t really matter, I guess. We are moving to San Antonio in a little over three weeks and we’re both pretty sure we won’t be giving the Esquire Tavern another chance. In fact, I think we’re both a little sick of the Riverwalk and probably won’t be hanging out there much anyway. But if we do go downtown, it’s extremely unlikely we’d try that bar again and knowing how much I like to chat, I imagine I’ll be bitching and writing about it a lot. I’m good for that.

Bill has lingering issues with embarrassment and shame and that was how he felt when these people failed to recognize him as a paying customer. And that embarrassment turned to anger… especially on my part. I have a very long memory when it comes to these things. As a matter of fact, I still hold a grudge against a place that dissed me over twenty years ago, when I was still a college student. They surely don’t care… and back then, we had no outlets like blogs or TripAdvisor for public venting. But I remember… and I’m still pretty bitter. 😉

I don’t have time for people who don’t have time for me; certainly not when it involves money. Besides, Bill is my favorite bartender. I know his prices are a hell of a lot less expensive than any I’ve encountered in a bar.

We won’t be darkening their door again… despite the loads of liquor…

Edited to add… a friend of mine read this article and passed along this link, which may shed some light on the subject. Perhaps the Esquire Tavern is one of those new “hip” bars where the bartenders have a snotty attitude about the libations they sell and their clientele. The author of the article uses a word that describes exactly how it feels to be ignored the way we were… “degrading”. What a damn shame!

The Traveling Overeducated Housewife

…the wanderings and ramblings of a boring housewife…

Category Archives: Bars

A Wednesday in Mons… (part three)

Our first Icelandic adventure: A day in Reykjavik! (part three)

An afternoon at Sixties in Mainz…

A little Scotch N’ Soda… an Irish pub in Wiesbaden

The Esquire Tavern of San Antonio… what a pretentious shithole!