The just in.. The French are assholes.

Before we began our day of taxing sightseeing, we had decided to go out to a nice dinner. We came back, cleaned ourselves up and headed out to the “fish market district” recommended to us by again our concierge. We checked out each menu of the seemingly never ending room of restaurants. The best price we could find was that of 20 Euro a dinner, for a set French menu. Since all were around that price, and NONE of the menus we could read, we settled on the restaurant that had the most people inside, a sure tell way of a decent restaurant. We entered and were seated on the side of the restaurant on the opposite side of the kitchen. As in you had to literally walk through the kitchen to get to our side of the restaurant. We were seated by what we assume to be the female owner, who consequently did not speak to us in English. “Would you like an aperitif?” She began. “A what? Sorry, English?” We asked. “An aperitif?” “Huh?” “An aperitif?” “Um.” An appetizer the French and English speaking woman next to us chimed in. “OH! AN appetizer. Um, no thank you. Can we get two glasses of house red wine please.”

The menu that was set for 20 Euro on the menu, now remarkably read 25 Euro inside. It’s magic. The French woman came around again. “Would you like to order from the menu now?” “Um. I think we will just start with the wine if that’s okay.” “You need to order from menu.” “We just want wine for now.” “One second.” The abrasive woman stated. Instinctively we get up, gathered our coats and apologized for the inconvenience. We would be going now. We both knew that what would come from that dinner would not be an enjoyable experience.
We try our luck at a very busy Spanish restaurant instead. The man ushering people from the sidewalk inside told us if we come in, we would receive a complimentary glass of champagne before and after dinner. We agree, not being one to turn down anything free, nonetheless champagne. The check comes after a very disappointing, over priced meal, and to our very surprise we were charged for a glass of champagne each. One was comped, one was not. “Umm, we were told the champagne was on the house.” Alicia attest. “No, the first was.” This was a different waiter then the one who made the promise. “No, it’s included.” “One second.” There were many a seconds being thrown around last night. Turned out it was just a big misunderstanding. Fortunately, in Europe one may exercise their right to tip or to not tip, given the dining experience. Not being one to frown upon local color, I exercised my right to NOT tip, based on the preceding events.

Today, was Brugge. Lovely little town. Canals, brick building, medieval looking churches, line the cobble stone paved streets. Again, love is in the air. I do not love the boy they call Brugge as much though. He’s not for me. A little on the quiet, small town side. It is Brussels that has my heart. Large, sturdy, established, diverse, well-read, a Renaissance man. He, with his diverse cuisines, good natured friends and I have many a story to tell. We have our secrets, our tales of romance, but most of all, we will always have our laughs.