Wednesday, September 3rd Brugge via Brussel-Zuid
Bier Blogging in Europe, I should do more, but keeping up with Curry-Heute on such trips occupies most of my time. Having recently added the drop-down page on Brugge, this complements Brussel and Gent, so what follows should take way less time. Just Antwerpen to do, and there will be time for this as should be seen as the week progresses.
A four day trip was booked, two nights each in Brugge and Brussel.
Why just the four? – Dr. Stan and Hector have asked each other in recent weeks. All to do with flight prices, and after Miami FL and Cruise To The Edge, earlier in the year. I was worried about over-spending. As it happened, on realising that Pendragon are playing in Ittre next Tuesday, the Hector added another three nights to this trip.
An early start for the 11.10 Ryanair flight from Edinburgh to Charleroi, aka Brussels-Sud. Marg, dog-sitting in Wallyford, I kid you not, was able to give me a lift, and so I arrived three hours before the flight, which was needlessly delayed by almost an hour.
I watched the inbound flight not let the passengers disembark, no buses. Then half were were picked up, and another ten minute wait for the bus to return. Twenty five minutes waiting for a bus, some on the tarmac, whilst six chaps in Menzies-Swissport outfits just stood around.
We fared no better in the departure lounge. With no announcement, Gate 13 became Gate 26. No announcements, not even at boarding. Swissport staff, not Ryanair. On board, the pilot blamed the ground staff for the delay.
My contempt for Edinburgh Airport is well recorded in other media, and specifically so in another Blog posting on the same route as today. The employees treat passengers abysmally. And why do all the interesting flight routes leave from here when the majority of the Scottish population lives in Greater Glasgow?
Suits v shell-suits.
Alighting at Charleroi was almost straightforward. The route to Passport Control was tortuous, at least just up, not up then down a la Edinburgh. The first stamp on my new extra-page British passport, this is why the Hector has not been abroad since the start of July.
Flibco are a major presence at Brussels-Sud, offering so-called shuttle buses to destinations all over België, and beyond, e.g. Luxembourg. Since my last time here, the dedicated bus terminal has been completed impressive, efficient, though one can buy tickets online, but what happens if one’s flight is delayed?
But not for Hector. Being over 65 means one can travel by train anywhere in België, for €8.50. Charleroi train station is the obvious place to head for by Bus A1, however, the SNCB app insists Luttre is better. Luttre is to the north, so one is not going south to Charleroi to go north again. The same IC train anyway. Bus A3 from the beyond the Flibco terminal is where the local buses are found, not well signed at all. I wonder why? Luttre – Brussel Midi – Brugge, simples.
Arriving at the Ibis budget Brugge Centrum Station just after 18.00, Dr. Stan was checking in. He had come by Eurostar.
Traditionally, de Garre is our first calling point on any Brugge trip. Bus 1 took us to Dijver, the famous canal stop. From there we looped round to the corner of Grote Markt, then off to the lane that is De Garre. With the now autumn sunlight, pretty pictures en route.
Upstairs, at de Garre, empty to begin, then more came out for an evening Bier.
Tripel Van de Garre, a mere 11.0% to start the night. Two is enough.
*
The accompanying cheese was dinner. I love being here. The serving staff are always accommodating, The peaceful, always classical music, creates a unique atmosphere.
De Kelk to the east in the Sint-Anna Quarter, is where we planned to end the evening, but first Bauhaus a few metres beyond.
A one kilometre twilight walk from de Garre, our first visit to Bauhaus. Decor and fittings-wise, an impressive bar, lots of accoutrements, but the tap Bier list was hardly inspiring. A chap from Ayr (Scotland) was serving. He had never heard of CAMRA, and doesn’t know Henry. Very strange.
*
The Ayrshire chap recommended the House IPA.
Bauhaus IPA (Brouwerij The Musketeers, Belgie) at 6.5% is West Coast in flavour. Gold, with a slight Haze, suitably dry and in the style.
Kwak was the only other tap Bier which could have made the Hector stay, we shall leave that for Toone. De Kelk would certainly have more to entice.
On the short walk back to de Kelk, we passed the bus stop from where, last year, we took a late bus back to the train station. There was a bus timetabled for after the midnight closing time, that should do us.
On entering de Kelk, the high table we sat at last year was in the process of being cleared. I informed the lady:
Ah, my usual table. OK, I’ve only been here once before.
De Kelk has a range of contemporary Bier from outwith België also. However, I started with something Belgian and Van’t Vat, Dr. Stan as ever, went his own way, though for a moment he thought I was addressing him at him.
Shut up! You Talk Too Much (BramBass, Belgie) is a 8.0% DNEIPA. Dark gold with a brown haze, one could taste the alcohol, not the hops. The brewery is reportedly a Gypsy Brewer, the Bier is named after a Run DMC song. Now we know.
This was followed by another tap Bier.
Stoffoasje (D’Oude Maalderij, Belgie) at 8.5% is a Belgian Tripel. Gold, clear and thin for its abv, there was a slight sweetness. Now way as good as de Garre’s Tripel.
By this time, Dr. Stan had discovered that the last bus back was after 23.00. Mein Host knew nothing about public transport. I checked the price and availability of Uber in Brugge, we were staying.
Dr. Stan came back from the bar with a CAN for us to share. As it happens, I’ve previously had a few from this Estonian brewery, with varied levels of enjoyment recorded.
Magnetic Domain (Puhaste, Estonia) a 10.8% Imperial Baltic Porter, so easy to drink. Maybe not so full on in terms of coffee/chocolate, but a fine Bier regardless.
Back to the board and our nightcap. Mein Host was in no hurry to kick us out even though midnight had passed.
There was time for a glass of Leeds’ very own.
*
Heaven 2024 (Northern Monk Brew Co., England), a 10.5% Barrel aged Chocolate and Maple Imperial Stout, had it all. With the appropriate body and full on flavours the World could simply have stopped here.
An Uber was duly summoned at the time we had planned to take the bus.
It has been a long day.
Bars visited today:
Stammine De Garre – De Garre 1, 8000 Brugge
St. Christopher’s at the Bauhaus – Langestraat 135, 8000 Brugge
De Kelk – Langestraat 69, 8000 Brugge
Thursday, September 4th, 2025 Brugge
A 13.00 rendezvous in the lobby, simples. At 13.05 I phoned Dr. Stan. He was just settling down to another hour’s snooze having listened to the BBC News at noon. Somehow, he had forgotten België is an hour ahead.
The agreed dining place was Pasta-Gusto, along the balcony from Ibis Budget and overlooking the station square and the bus turning circle.
Last year I had the special Gusto Bolognaise, large. Good as it was, I couldn’t finish it, today, a standard portion.
Wot, no Curry? Indian Tandoori, the place we visited last year is – temporarily closed – according to a well known and sometimes reliable map medium. I have done most of the Curry Houses in Brugge, and although In-Dish next door to ‘t Brugs Beertje proved to be fine, walking down Kemelstraat at lunchtime just feels wrong.
Bieratelier in the Ankerplein area of the old town has proven to be worthy of a stop off. Today, this would be our starting point. A rather clever way into the bottom of the old town had us there by a scenic route, new, until I look at old photos.
How Dr. Stan could navigate his way through the bras suspended from the ceiling, he didn’t let on. Maybe he is us used to it.
Rodenbach Vintage, a 7.2% delight, was on tap, not to be ignored. I had a Soupçon from a bottle on a mad night at Koelschip Yard (Glasgow) a couple of months back. This was suitably Sour, but not as extreme as my favourite Kriek which would await later. A good starter.
The smell in the back room at Bieratelier left something to be desired. However, here is an ongoing problem with a city built around canals, not rivers. Every so often, a pong emanates from somewhere.
Across the street from Bieratelier lies Yesterday’s Works, as much a museum/antique shop as a bar.
We were forty five minutes too early, and so on to Bierpalais, and umbrellas up. The promised mid afternoon rain was punctual. En route I checked out Indian Tandoori. It has gone, now selling that food from further east than the Indian Subcontinent. Google has been informed, how long will it take them to react?
As I arrived at Bierpalais, Dr. Stan was standing outside, under a canopy. Closed, worse, for sale. Whether this Bier and souvenir shop remains an ongoing business, time will tell.
On we went, up to the main part of the old town and negotiated our way around the houses, to Brugge’s other old town brewery.
Bourgogne des Flandres have a brew-plant here, but may be cheating. How much is still brewed by Timmermans, and is the House Bier (5.0%) brewed here? Well, they aren’t going to tell us.
Think sweet and thin, Dr. Stan concurred, it wasn’t the same as recorded in Bier notes, and he did not have an excellent Rodenbach afore.
The House Bier is not dissimilar in style from Rodenbach, but quality was evident, albeit by its absence.
Duvelorium next, and the opperchancity to look down on the peasants in Grote Markt. There is is Bier Festival here in a week or so, and the Brugge equivalent of CAMRA were having a meeting in the bar area. Maybe not a CAMRA equivalent, these were well dressed businessmen, who ever wore a suit to a CAMRA meeting?
I haven’t had a Maredsous for yonks, it was on tap and so time to address this.
Brune (Le Saint-Jospeh Maredsous, België) at 8.0%, seemed more ruby-red, was smooth with a hint of caramel. Quite a departure from the norm. After all, we haven’t come to België just to drink NEIPA.
We sat out on the balcony, the stools were not comfortable. A hysterical woman kept performing every so often along the way.
*
Let’s go back in, but keep out the way of the meeting.
Dr. Stan was certain that screaming weans would materialize, followed by the yappy dog. A typical Hector day out.
‘t Poatersgat has been on our – to visit – list for some time. Another cellar bar as with La Trappiste, and Brugespub which is actually across the street, from ‘t Poatersgat, and still not open in our window of opperchancity.
The stairs were not amusing for people of a certain age, our age. Dr. Stan entered backwards, a la James Bond gatecrashing a party: look as if you have just popped out.
The cavernous basement impressed, the loud music did not. Speakers everywhere, stools just away from the bar proved to be the nadir.
Mr Bean played continuously on the screens. How old is that? All the classic, typically USA pop tunes. Archetypal – said Dr. Stan. Young staff, no gravitas, who are they trying to attract. Had we gone round to La Trappiste, no doubt it would have been stowed.
The Bier? Yes, we had one.
We could easily have just moved on, nothing here to excite at all. If you are opening a bar in Belgium, you need something different, not standard fayre.
Brugge Trippel (De Gouden Boon (Palm), België) at 8.7% for Hector, presumably brewed locally, but not that local. Blond, with a body matching the abv, and importantly dry, not sweet.
That still leaves only two breweries within historical Brugge.
It was now the time when we could walk over to ‘t Brugs Beertje and know we could stay until near enough closing time and not disgrace ourselves. Last bus at 23.21, aye right, they are open until midnight and this is our only shot this year at enjoying one of the best bars in the entire World of Bier.
The Hector led the way to the corner table furthest from the door in the bar. With seats here, we would feel we were here, not stuck in the middle room, or worse, in the back room which opens for larger numbers. A group would arrive and they were sent there.
Until tonight, I did not know, or if I did, I have long forgotten there is another bar at the rear, open at weekends. Tonight was busy enough to justify this.
Oude Kriek (Hanssens, Belgie) at 6.5%, for Hector, there is no better Lambic. As Sour as any Bier can be then add the cherries and the underlying sense of cinnamon, perfection. I permit myself to have two, else acid reflux pays a visit.
Gouda and Celery Salt, another Belgian ritual, was duly ordered. I think there was some salt left in the jar when we had finished.
As we finished Bier #2, a Scottish couple sat at the far end of the table. This led to extensive Bier talk.
The tap list included two IPAs. Being bold, I ordered Madahijscar (Brouwerij ‘t Verzet, België) at 6.0%, a Farmhouse IPA was remote from a NEIPA. Thin, bitter, there was hardly any sense of hops. Columbus and Nelson Sauvin may well have been abused in the creation of this Bier, horrible. I was glad I had ordered – small.
In Between His Walls (Nanobrasserie de L’Ermitage, Brussel, België) at 6.5% was a serious NEIPA. There was a – wow – of relief when the hops hit the palate. Krush, Simcoe and Ekuanot were well represented here. Scheduled to visit the brewery tomorrow, I would expect to have this again – at source.
Dr. Stan had already headed to the dark side. My final Bier of the evening was therefore a safe choice.
Cuvée Delphine (De Struise Brouwers, België) at 13.00%, would provide a perfect ending. A Russian Imperial Bourbon Barrel Aged Stout, this had all the flavour of Chocolate & Coffee one seeks, and little sense of the alcohol. Richly flavoured, excellent.
Walk home? Aye right. An Uber was summoned, a Tesla, a first experience for both of us. The dashboard TV screen interprets pedestrian and cyclists and shows them graphically. Crazy. Do windows and mirrors not work any more. Anyway, his route back to the hotel was circuitous, we got our money’s worth.
Brewery and bars and restaurant visited today:
Bieratelier Brugge – Wijngaardstaat 13, 8000 Brugge
Brouwerij Bourgogne des Flanderes – Kartuizerinnenstraat 6, 8000 Brugge
Duvelorium – Markt 1, 8000 Brugge
‘t Poatersgat – Vlamingstraat 82, 8000 Brugge
‘t Brugs Beertje – Kemelstraat 5, 8000 Brugge
Pasta-Gusto – Frank Van Ackerpromenade 1, 8000 Brugge
Friday, September 5th, 2025 Brussel
Everyone in België appeared to be waiting for the 11.55 from Brugge to Brussel, fortunately, I had agreed with Dr. Stan that we would take the 12.11. Much quieter by far, plenty of room to stretch out.
Ibis Brussel-Zuid had not guaranteed my early check-in, however, this was honoured. Having stayed enough nights in the past year at Ibis/Accor, I/we have accumulated enough points to reach Gold, only the second time this has occurred. No welcome chocolate in the room, so I’ll have to buy some for Marg at Charleroi Airport.
The next two nights are also the most expensive I have ever accepted travelling solo. Usually the weekend rate in Brussel is at a discount, not this time. Even St. Gilles, usually the cheaper alternative, did not attract. Staying in a cheaper hotel in the city centre / Anderlecht can be horrible. I know, I’ve stayed in a few. The Hector has bitten the bullet.
11.00 checkout – advised the ever so friendly chap.
Eleven, it’s usually twelve.
You can have twelve.
A quick swipe of the key-card and an amendment to the holder and at least I had secured a total of two and a half hours beyond the norm. Small victories.
Nobody at Chilli Grill had acknowledged my text. I know they tend not to open at the 13.50 time posted on Google. I phoned, no answer. I phoned Dr. Stan, he did answer.
I’m sending you details of where I am eating.
Mithu da Dhaba, one of a range of authentic, hopefully, Pakistani Curry Houses that Google now admit exist in nearby Anderlecht. Why they appear now and not on previous trips, which have been regular in recent times, only Google know.
Dr. Stan joined me ten minutes into my dining experience. As ever, the full account of our visit to Mithu da Dhaba is posted in Curry-Heute.
A Friday afternoon, it was certainly Bier o’clock, and we were in Anderlecht. In previous visits to Brussel, this would have meant making a beeline to Brasserie Cantillon, but not any more. I have told the World, and them to the best of my ability, that I shall not return to their brewery taproom until they stop ripping off the public, and generally adopt a better attitude. For a time it was a matter of by the glass only not enough bottles. Now it’s bottles only, and they want to sell the premium stock.
Dr. Stan assures me that the main chap agrees with these sentiments. Some time back, he advised Dr. Stan to go to nearby Brasserei de l’Ermitage after Cantillon closed. He duly turned up, moments after Dr. Stan, and spilled the beans.
And so, L’Ermitage it was. There were more people sitting outside than in, and even more would join them. That people still smoke, puzzles. That people smoke dope with Bier, wtf?
A different chap behind the bar, this was easy to verify, it was a young lady last year. The Bier which rescued Hector’s palate at ‘t Brugs Beertje last night was duly ordered, a large one too, such was the level of confidence.
In Between His Walls, a 6.5% NEIPA, a sensible starting level for another day of indulgence. It is Lockdown which is to blame for regarding 6.0% as a base level. Anything below 5.0% is now looked upon with suspicion.
Not the best Bier L’Ermitage have ever produced, that accolade goes to Rongo, an 8.0% DIPA, but still worthy of of having. The young barman had never heard of Rongo, he has now.
Those who joined us inside appeared to be transient, luggage in tow. One, a young chap who insisted we hear all of his phone-calls fell foul of having to use the facility. This is for the brave, Dr. Stan worked out that it’s wooden wind chimes at the entrance which make the strange noises.
Everyone should visit, once.
Roy de Denier, an 8.0% DIPA was next. With a full haze and a body to match the abv, this was sharp on the palate, then fruity, with a dry aftertaste. There was no hop hit as such and the hops therein cannot be established.
Today we were spared the screechy women and the runabout wean, cue the yappy puppy. Actually it did calm down quite quickly, so Dr. Stan did not get to savour my discomfort.
*
Dipatout 2025, is how I have to call this one. In 2022, this Bier was 9.0% with a full on Haze, featuring Citra and Chinook. This version had less of a Haze, the body matched the abv, and fruitiness was revealed. With Simcoe, Mosaic and Amarillo hops, this was close to being wonderful.
By this time, it became apparent that whole albums were being played, quite a change from the usual tracks. Radiohead’s – OK Computer – I had only ever heard bits of, the usual bits, I suppose. Having now heard the entire album, I can see where Gazpacho get their influence. However, Jan Henrik Ohme’s vocals in Gazpacho leave Radiohead miles behind. I thought we were getting all of Pink Floyd’s – Meddle – until it cut off halfway through Echoes. There are a lot of fillers on that album.
Not letting Hector hear – the return of the ping – felt a good enough reason to leave.
To where next? Moeder Lambic – Fontainas was the obvious choice, but somehow, we both decided to head to the top end of St. Gilles.
From Lemonnier, we jumped on the Metro (4/10) up to Albert. Well, Dr. Stan was through the barriers first, the Hector had no ticket. The barman couldn’t tell me if the ten journey ticket on the STIB app would appear there, or elsewhere. Who can? A paper Day Ticket it was. How do I get a STIB card? Can I really use any bank card to tap on/off? I would hate to be stuck between the gates at a Metro station.
At Albert, Dr. Stan confidently chose the right exit. He is here way more than my once per year.
Dynamo – Bar de Soif was marginally busier on the outside than it was on the inside.
We have been coming here for a few years, there is always something new to enjoy.
Fugushima (Fugu Brewing Co., Brussel, België) a 6.2% NEIPA was in the no man’s land of nothing wrong, but lacking that particular blend. How many times is this the case?
A pale Haze, with the body matching the abv, this was suitably juicy, and most importantly, nothing nasty. Citra, Cryo Citra and Simcoe were the hops. I can even report an IBU of 25.
I’m sure we sit at the same spot every time we come.
The green wall takes on all sorts of dynamic imagery after a time. There was a brief moment when I considered purchasing a can of Sardines. I have never seen such an array, do peeps eat these indoors or out?
*
On arrival, the next Bier was not on the board. The barman immediately let us know it was available. Maybe he knew something else.
Turbulence des Fluides (Brasserie des Beaux Jours, Charleroi, België) a 6.0% NEIPA, nearly commanded a lap of honour. Citra, Mosaic and Idaho 7 provided the base for this almost excellent NEIPA. The milkshake Haze always impresses, big body big mouthfeel, and the foretaste we almost right there. But then it all subsided too quickly.
I like this bar, but two others remained the target. Still, I had another Turbulence.
*
Moeder Lambic, the original, downhill, and to the right, I can almost get there instinctively. Here the outside was stowed, the inside empty, downstairs, nobody. Smokers. Here we do seem to occupy a different seat each time. Dr. Stan wanted to ensure he could see the board. Hector takes a photo.
Dr. Stan went – Brune – the Hector decided it was time for a Lambic.
Drei Fonteinen Kriek (Brouwerij 3 Fontänen, Beersel, België) at 6.0% has been had oft, even – at source. This is Hector’s go-to Kriek after Hanssens and Cantillon. Not the full on sucky-cheeks and cinnamon, but always quaffable, and that is what I did.
La Moederation (Brasserie de Jandr ain-Jandrenouille, België) may well have been Hector going off on one. An 8.0% Belgian Pale Strong Ale with a slight haze on the gold. Full bodied, sufficiently dry, with some fruitiness, it tasted like a crossover between a West Coast IPA and a Tripel.
Now that I’ve had this, note to self, try something different next time.
Extensive as the Bier range may be at Moeder Lambic, there was nothing on the board that was calling me. It didn’t take much persuasion to get Dr. Stan moving further down the hill to L’Ermitage St. Gilles. I did insist we take the Metro from Horta down to Parvis St-Gilles, the subsequent third trip would justify my Day Ticket.
The crowds occupying the pavement cafes of St. Gilles confirmed that this is where the locals hang out, Grand Place is for tourists. I think we knew that.
There was no holding the Hector back now, a big Dipatout was duly ordered. Anaesthetic was required time to get through the Danmark v Scotland match on the Oppo. It was 0v0 when I put the match on and that is how it would remain. We didn’t know that and so half litres of Noire du Midi were acquired. As for the football, the usual story, the team which has a proper goal scorer wins.
*
*
Noire du Midi at 6.5% is a Hoppy Porter. Despite the relatively low abv, for the time of night at which it was being consumed, the body surprised, and the mouthfeel was spot on. With both coffee and chocolate flavours coming through, this was a great note on which to finish the night.
Another note to self: the two-plus year old Oppo will have to be upgraded, the battery rarely lasts more than six hours of Hector usage.
Brewery, bars and restaurant visited today:
Brasserei de l’Ermitage – Rue Lambert Crickx 26, 1070 Anderlecht, Brussel
Dynamo – Bar de Soif – Chau. d’Alsemberg 130, Saint-Gilles, Brussel
Moeder Lambic Original – Rue de Savoie 68, 1060 Saint-Gilles, Brussel
L’Ermitage Saint-Gilles – Rue de Moscou 34, 1060 Saint-Gilles, Brussel
Mithu da Dhaba – Rue Brogniez 78, 1070 Anderlecht, Brussel
Saturday, September 6th, 2025 Brussel
Dr. Stan’s final day of this trip and he did not join Hector for another Anderlecht Curry, this time at Noor Tandoori. His loss. There was a notional 14.00 rendezvous at La Source, possibly Brussel’s best kept Bier secret.
Bus 46 took me north from Clemenceau to stop Brussel Andrée De Jongh right outside the door of the old industrial building which now houses the microbrewery. Clemenceau was an eye opener, an open air market was being held across from the bus stop. Those participating were markedly different from those found at Grand Place, no tourists here.
First visited on 2023, La Source brew contemporary Craft Beer, a change therefore from the traditional Belgian styles. I recognised the chap serving, from last year or the year before.
La Meute, a Hazy IPA at 6.5% is tried and tested. There was no holding back, I started – large. With Mosaic Cryo, El Dorado, and Sorache Ace, a decent hop blend creating Tropical flavours. The Bier has lost some of its haze, or had the keg not been rolled lately?
A Saturday afternoon, where was everyone? At least the roller-derby in the main hall had yet to get underway. There were never more than two customers in our bit throughout our stay. Mellow music, some Shoegaze, a pleasant place to sit.
What could be better than La Meute than Double Meute at 8.0%? Like its little brother not as Hazy as one would hope for. A small glass, a bit early for a DIPA.
Dr. Stan, as ever, was doing his own thing Bier-wise. When he hit the dark stuff this early in the day and declared he was on to something, the Hector had to get on board.
Taupe, a Black Wheat Porter at 6.1% had the full on chocolate experience. A decent body for this abv, so perhaps sensible for the time of day.
Bus 46 took us back to Bourse, and from there, the short hop to another must-visit Brasserie to partake in another Bier ritual.
Poechenellekelder is located adjacent to Mannequin Pis, everyone who has visited Brussel has therefore at least been outside it, and outside is where many had chosen to sit. Inside was stowed also, we squeezed in to uncannily, the same group of tables we always see to secure.
Puppets aplenty, but more of them later, accoutrements adorn the walls, just a great atmosphere at any time of day. Never been at night.
Rodenbach (België), the Classic at 5.2%, though the Grand Cru at 6.0% is even better, is a ruby-red ale. Approaching the bitterness of a Lambic, a Sour, long before this term was coined, truly refreshing.
Settling down to the old time music, some jazz too, we watched the adjacent young couple order Spag Bol. Oh why not? It may only have been a matter of a few hours since brunch, but it could be a long night.
Nobody cooks Spag Bol as good as Hector’s. OK, once, and only once, a chap in the restaurant at the top of Capri’s – other hill – did. When I asked to meet the Chef, they thought I wanted to have words. There was great relief when it was to congratulate him.
Today’s SpagBol needed way more sauce, too dry. Lots of cheese, must be an American Chef. Usually, they just skimp on the meat not at Poechenellekelder.
Moeder Lambic – Fontainas was a matter of metres away. A different atmosphere, loud-ish euro, but not pop, bearable.
For years, the array of options here truly impressed, these days less so. Maybe my restored regular visits to België have just made me harder please.
HãPi Kiwi (1Bières2Tartines, België), NZIPA at 6.4% was first had at Moeder Lambic – Original in 2023. With – the full milkshake haze and suitably hoppy, a tad off perfection – was written back then. Today, the three Kiwi hops could still not be named and the flavours seemed unfamiliar. During a certain Big Trip in 2024, which included New Zealand, I became more wary of NZIPA. Is it just a matter of the brewers hedging their bets between New England and West Coast?
Grand Place was mobbed but with a different crowd. A Bier Festival was being held which occupied all but the peripheral areas. Given the age of those attending, it was quickly established that there was nothing here to divert us from our objective.
Toone, the puppet theatre and Bier bar. Kwak (Bosteels Brewery, België) at 8.4%, the ritual Bier. A strong, Brown Ale, slightly sweet, but wonderful. It must be served in the correct glass, and here it is.
We squeezed on to a table facing the bar, our preferred spot. We had to pay for each round in turn, no tab. The card machine didn’t stretch to us, could we go to the card reader? They soon learned just to take our bank card for a walk, simples.
Cheese and copious Celery Salt used to be part of the ritual at Toone, they no longer serve it. A couple of years back, a waiter informed us this was due to EU standards. Nonsense.
The music at Toone is relaxed, subdued even, pop in English. Tonight, this included Pink Floyd, an opperchancity for the Hector to name that tune. Dr. Stan stopped at Hendrix. Dr. Stan missed the Hendrix statue in Seattle WA. Perhaps we should do something about that?
A farewell to Dr. Stan who is not in this saga any more.
Back at the Ibis, the bar was closed, a common feature of this chain. How is one meant to enjoy the complimentary drink?
Brewery, bars and restaurant visited today:
La Source Beer co. – Rue Dieudonné Lefèvre 4, 1020
Poechenellekelder – Rue du Chêne 5, 1000 Brussel
Moeder Lambic Fontainas – Place Fontainas 8, 1000 Brussel
Toone – Imp. Schuddeveld 6, 1000 Brussel
Noor Tandoori – Rue de Fiennes 42, 1070 Anderlecht
Sunday, September 7th Brussel to Antwerpen
Last year, when my flight from Charleroi, aka Brussels South, was cancelled twice, due to staffing disputes at the airport, I took refuge in Antwerpen and escaped from Europe via Amsterdam. When I decided to extend this trip to accommodate seeing Pendragon on Tuesday in Ittre, I knew that Antwerpen would be the most affordable city in België to stay in, and keep me suitably amused.
There was momentary confusion at Brussel-Zuid, my train was going to Anvers, wtf is that? Why French was being used to identify a city in the Dutch speaking part of België, only the station management may know. Anvers, via Malines, throw us a bone. Antwerpen via Mechelen, now we know where we are going. The Royal – we.
Arriving at Antwerpen-Centraal is always a pleasure. The multi-level platforms never fail to intrigue, then there is the magnificent architecture in the entrance hall.
I had asked for an early check-in at the Ibis Budget, they couldn’t guarantee it, but the lovely ladies on duty had my room sorted when I arrived soon after 13.00. Today must have been deemed to be – hot. I was provided with an ice cold carton of water, for the room. A pity Ibis don’t do fridges.
Prior to a short snooze, I had to deal with a couple of mosquitoes at large in the room. Better now than in the middle of the night. Hector 2 v 0 Mosquitoes.
It has been a couple of years, but a return to Iman Hallal felt overdue. A Palak Gosht washed down with copious Belgian Fanta would set me up for the rest of the day.
Groenplaats from the nearby Elisabeth Metro station should be a simple affair. I have been known to end up on the wrong train and in the wrong direction. Unless I am mistaken the information boards and even the front of the train, flash up the starting point, not the end destination. Today, I had the choice of Metro 3 or 5, and got the direction right. I had three journeys left on my De Lijn ticket purchased last year, and have three days in which to use them. No problem, well not for me, but on the train, a very strange experience.
A young lady of African heritage sat opposite. A Middle Eastern couple, with wean, sat behind here. For reasons unknown , the week girl grabbed the lady’s Afro hair-do, as in truly grabbed it, and pulled. I was half expecting a wig to fly off, but this could have been real hair.
In a previous time, the parents would have been mortified and dealt with the offending wean, not today. In a tone of which Sgt. Wilson of Dad’s Army would have been proud, the parents suggested to the wean that she should cease. Alas, this was to no avail, the handful of hair was tugged further.
All those in the carriage witnessed the horror story, nobody has it on video.
The Historich Centrum of Antwerpen is always a joy to see. It does stand out from the relative blandness of the rest of the city. The Hector strode confidently around the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekathedraal, in company, Elfde Gebod would have been the chosen venue for Bier #1, as the sad lonely drinker, ‘t Paters Vaejte seemed the better option.
With many sitting outside in the bright sunshine, I strode past and secured one of the many empty tables inside. The young ladies serving were most attentive.
Bolleke (Stadsbrouwerij De Koninck, Antwerpen, België) at 5.2%, felt like the perfect start. An Amber Ale, not too sweet, and very much in the Belgian style, cool and refreshing, it didn’t last long.
As I stood up, so both the legs and the head complained. I put this down to the heat, again, I challenge the logic in drinking outside.
Heading west, I reached the Scheldt and decided I needed a photo of the fortification in bright sunlight.
A musical event was getting underway on the adjacent ground. Good luck to those in attendance.
Cafe Pardaf is on the corner at the road crossing, again, emptier inside. Cider is my preferred drink after Curry and so Wild Dry Cider (Oud Beersel, België) at 7.5% was ordered along with some Gouda with Celery Salt. Having maybe scunnered myself in Brugge, it was time to indulge once more.
The Cider was excellent, cool, quaffable, dangerous. Such was the quantity of cheese presented, the Hector was well scunnered once more. More Cider was tempting, but there was a list of venues to get around.
In times gone by, we have met up with a friend of Dr. Stan in Antwerpen, he has shown us around his favourite places. Lo and behold, look who was sitting on the far side of the room. As I did not need – the information – I took my leave. Knowing his route, I should be able to stay one step ahead.
De Ware Jacob is where I had my last ever Bier abroad with Jonathan. It was fitting that I should have the same Bier again. Seef Bier (Antwerpse Brouw Campagnie) at a modest 3.8% is a Wit Bier by taste, but Blond by nature. Suitably hazy, multi-layered flavours, and more powerfully flavoured than many a 5.0%, this Bier kicked Hoegarden’s arse.
A few individuals sat spread around the room. Photographing the place proved to be difficult, even the exterior on my arrival felt wrong. Mein Host was ever vigilant. Modern classic rock played at a non-intrusive volume. A relaxing bar, a good place to pass an hour.
The joy of this route is that the venues are only minutes apart. Billies next, I had only been here once before. With food available, more than just a bar.
With balcony seating, more accommodating than the outside might suggest. This place has a lot going for it. Once again rock at a sensible volume.
A DDH NEIPA (Brasserie Popihn, France) stood out on the board. At 6.5%, a sensible abv, and with Motueka, Mosaic and Nelson Sauvin hops, this turned out to be the best Bier of this trip, to date.
I sat at the bar and engaged the barman as and when. There was no surprise when ordered a second, this Bier was that good, the magic blend of hops one seeks, and yet too may do not get close to. Such in the joy of chasing down the NEIPA.
Beerlovers Bar is back near the Centraal railway station. A return to Elisabeth by Metro, no assaults to report this time, though on exiting the Metro, a Polish nutter picked me up, and accompanied me all the way to Beerlovers, then inside. Who knows what he wanted, but fortunately, he could not afford Craft Beer, and so buggered off.
To follow Popihn would take some doing, both my tipples at Beerlovers would be from Brasserie Fauve, France. Rejaillir Le Feu did not live up to its name. A 6.3% NEIPA, the Haze was decent, but was thin. It took a few moments to adjust to this. Mosaic, Simcoe and Sabro hops featured. It could have been better.
I sat at the same table near the ladies facility, same spot as last year because I knew there was a power point. Ironically, also the last spot we found Dr. Stan’s friend, even though on Information Day #1, he insisted he never came here.
As I typed away. Catching up with this nonsense, so the local mosquito population had sounded their trumpets. The Hector is in town. Score draw. J’Irai ou tu Iras was a worrying name for a Bier, given who I was hoping to avoid. A 6.5% CAN, I insisted on pouring it myself. A full haze again decent hops: Citra, Motueka and Simcoe, but not a big hitter.
Maybe this is why some stay put when they find the Bier they want until it is finished, or it’s time for bed and then come back again.
The music here was varied, I would take my leave at 23.00 when French rap became dominant, but not before I had ordered a cd via a well knowing shopping app.
Ellipsis – Monkey III, a Swiss outfit playing Shoegaze, this is what the Hector wants to hear.
Bars and restaurant visited today:
‘t Paters Vaetje – Blaumoezelstraat 1, Antwerpen
Cafe Pardaf – Suikerrui 2, 2000 Antwerpen
De Ware Jacob – Vlasmarkt 19, 2000 Antwerpen
Billies – Kammenstraat 12, 2000 Antwerpen
Beerlovers Bar – Rotterdamstraat 105, 2060 Antwerpen
Iman Hallal – Diepestraat 101, 2060 Antwerpen
Back to the 
The view from the terminal on Toronto Islands afforded a final glimpse of the CN Tower and Downtown 
To reach 
Despite abundant seating indoors, somehow we fond ourselves sitting outside. OK when there’s shade. 
The waitress was most welcoming and patient, allowing Clive to have all Bier and food menus read and explained. The next ten days shall be thus, and the pace of walking, decidedly – pedestrian.
A much busier venue, the setup was along more contemporary lines. 
With so little prior knowledge about this city, we had chosen a decent location for our first 
One suspects there is a lot happening here, time permitting, there could be a return.
Dr. Stan and Hector have discussed this New England trip for years as a stand alone. Marg driving was the only way it was possible. Tagging it on to the end of this epic trip became obvious. With Clive and Maggie on board, it makes the car hire all the more affordable and also gives another driver. And so it shall be, but not for another four days.
Marg was out early for her daily exercise, but not for as much as some. Today the – Run To Remember – half marathon was being held, which pays tribute to fallen 1st Responders. Earlier this year, a friend of Marg’s niece ran the Boston Marathon but did not get her t-shirt. This was due to arrive at our hotel to coincide with our stay. So far nothing.
The upstairs bar is a replica of the TV filmset, however, the surroundings are naff. Windows on the first floor, not the basement it’s meant to represent. 
We took turn having our photo taken with the original cast. No Lilith.
Fortunately, we got to see some of old 
Thanks to a wean, it took some time to secure the necessary photos. I blame the parents. I’m not sure that my fellow travellers shared the emotion on marking the only piece of Boston history known to the Geographer.
In the full knowledge that it was approaching Bier o’clock, Marg declared she was not coming to our first brewery stop, coffee was calling. Maggie decided to keep her company. Just as well, the next hour was not the Hector’s proudest moment.
Whilst
In what would turn out to be my penultimate encounter with Bier writer Fred Waltman in 
The ladies arrived, it’s about time Marg learned to use Google Maps. Today was that day.
There’s a bar in the Food Hall at High Street Place which potentially had Bier and let those who wished more food to be catered for. Listed as open until 21.00 on a Monday, it wasn’t. This is when business owners and Google should be held accountable. Maggie had faded, back she went to the hotel with Clive.
We found ourselves deep inside 
Hector was the last customer out of the building. Two nights in a row, but then opperchancities have been limited prior ot this part of the trip.
More Fiddlehead IPA for Hector, Clive had wine, Maggie a cocktail. 
A noon flight to 
I had previously seen the Great Lakes from afar when flying from 
YYZ, every fan of – Rush – knows the airport code for Toronto Pearson International Airport. A crashing instrumental on – Moving Pictures. Clearing immigration was a breeze, unlike the EU, our British passports appeared to give us a sense of priority, but only after we had secured a piece of paper, to be given up to the first person who would relieve of us this necessary item.
There was a friendly face waiting for us at arrivals: from the same college class as Marg and Alison in 
Etobicoke is a leafy Toronto suburb, it lies between YYZ and Downtown. The drive home was a mere twenty minutes. Marg had stayed with Helen and Joe on a weekend trip to 
It’s wonderful waking up in a house/home rather than a hotel. People even offer breakfast, not that Hector is oft led in that direction, too early for the digestive system. Helen’s orange juice was a stand out. Marg indulged, maybe she was hungry.
Today we were let loose, Marg the guide. OK, Joe gave me precise instructions on how to get Downtown and supplied us with suitably loaded PRESTO metro cards. Royal York on Green Line (2) to St. George, then change to Orange Line (1) which loops through the city centre. 
Olives, the body needs olives, have they been avoiding me on this trip? Sultan’s Mediterranean – didn’t have them, so what does this tell me? The adjacent Mr. Souvlaki did, and so it was to be. 
CN Tower, it had to be done, yet another high place. What time does the boat leave? 
Apart from the skyscrapers beneath us, there’s a conundrum, the CN Tower affords a view across to YTZ, Billy Bishop Toronto City Airport on Toronto Islands. We leave from there on Sunday morning, are we taking the ferry?
The height was of course bothering me, I found my spot as close to the axis as possible, only daring to venture anywhere near a window when other groups had moved away.
The sooner we were off this the better. Tick.
On Marg’s brief visit to 
Steam Whistle Brewing is located in the Roundhouse, once the locomotive repair shop. The waitress gave us a time limit for our table. On studying the Bier list, the only NEIPA was from Beau’s Brewery. Beau’s Brewery is at Vankleek Hill between Ottawa and Montreal, not here then. The waitress couldn’t tell us what was actually brewed here. So, the Hector is at a brewery drinking someone else’s Bier? There must be a company connection, The websites of the respective breweries give nothing away, who owns who? Research revealed that in 2021, Steam Whistle took over Beau’s. 
It was only having left that Marg realised she had taken me to – the kitchen – and not – the taproom. Maybe there, the timing would have been less strict.
Modern buildings one sees everywhere, we headed inland to find something older. There wasn’t too much in our loop as time was running out. We had to be home for dinner! Yay!
Joe was manning the BBQ, it is a man’s job. No prizes for guessing what was for dinner. A cloudy day, mostly, yet we are still in shorts. No midges. There was a single Bier to accompany the meal.
Until today, I thought Niagara Falls was just a famous waterfall, it is so much more. Having said that, at 99m, not as high as the waterfalls Marg and Hector saw on our swansong school trip to Iceland. Niagara Falls is the city which lies on the banks of the Niagara River, the east in 
Headward erosion has created the Niagara Great Gorge on Niagara River. There is also the issue of an escarpment, uplift then, and an Ice Age or two. Who said Geography is simple? Also, Niagara-on-the-Lake is the town on the shores of Lake Ontario, where the Niagara River joins it.
We passed Burlington ON, I had to send screenshots of the map to certain people back home, Burlington VT lies in the near future. 
There is a shop on the outskirts of Niagara-on-the-Lake, Picard’s, a great name. Picard’s sells nuts. Marg and Hector like nuts, evidently, Helen does too.
Joe led me down to the water’s edge. Across what was still a relatively fast flowing river, lies 
Maybe not, having just left 
There’s even a tower; for once I wouldn’t have to go up it. Maybe not as tacky as Blackpool, but certainly attracting that mentality. And there was a brewery, so what does that say about this commentator?
Table Rock is the viewpoint on the Canadian side. One immediately realises that the Americans get an inferior deal. One can almost touch the water before it plummets to the depths. Danger, ask the 5000.
I deliberately took photos upstream to capture the view of the rapids leading to the Falls.
At certain points, an updraught brings the spray over the banks of the Gorge. People jockeyed for the best views, dry ones. The lack of awareness of a certain group, never fails to be noticed. A combination of Fife Robertson’s – I’m standing here – and Ratso Risso’s – I’m walking here – disregarding the rest of the populace. Sheldon too – That’s my spot!
There’s more. As a special request, I asked if we could stop off at a shopping centre. Not a random one, but Outlet Collection at Niagara. Here be – Columbia Factory Store, my favourite clothing brand, hard to source in the UK. Still conscious of weight, our purchases were – extra light.
I had chosen 
How does one follow Niagara Falls? A wee trip to a wee zoo, apparently. Another Marg day, but at least this evening there would be a catch up with David and Lynn, former colleagues now resident in different parts of 
The Hector has still not recovered from 
Back home, our hosts had retired and there was the matter of Bier in the fridge, untouched. Just like home.
The final full day in 
This afternoon, Joe and I discussed music. I outlined how I have never found US rock bands to be appealing. Not enough riffs, too country. Jazz of course, is a different matter, Weather Report. I admitted that it was only after hearing and liking Rush, Joni Mitchell, and Brian Adams, I discovered they were Canadian. These artists knew that already. I have the first ten Rush albums, before they went soft. The Joni Mitchell albums featuring members of Weather Report is how I got into her unique brand of folk-jazz-rock. My current favourite Canadian outfit is – Mystery. Their epic – Through Different Eyes – is a masterpiece, IMHO. But then whose opinion should I have?
There was an evening walk along the Etobicoke lake shore affording views across to Downtown. 
How I could have done with the Sheldon boulder at Niagara Falls. Joe was a bit quieter this evening, is he coming down with something?
Back home, the final Bier ever to be consumed in 
Life In The Clouds (Collective Arts Brewing Company, Hamilton ON) at 6.1% was a true NEIPA with the full milkshake haze. Simcoe and Mosaic hops featured. This was a fine Bier to end on.
Seattle WA
The Blue Line took us towards the city. I had time to work out that we needed to change to the Red Line at either Monroe or Jackson. Monroe came first, a good choice. The Transit Police informed us that the Red Line was off northbound, an incident. A bus was suggested, but given the throng when we found the stop, Marg insisted we walk the few blocks our hotel – Freehand Chicago.
Chicago Pizza, Deep Pan Pizza, Hector’s favourite, a reminder that Marg has forbidden me to order Pizza in 
The individual pizza was not on, we would share the medium. A pizza without black olives ain’t a Pizza, and so we negotiated the main event. Marg, who might have been hungry, managed to add a complex salad to the order. More Pizza for Hector.
The Pepperoni Pizza was topped with abundant black olives and green peppers. It looked the part, how misleading was this? This would be Hector’s first and last Chicago Pizza. Why? Because it wasn’t Pizza, but biscuit. The whole point of Deep Pan is thick dough, so where was this invented?
Back at the hotel, I fetched my netbook and chargers and retreated to the grand seating area and bar on the ground floor. Other guests were like minded. Not a bad place to chill, a pity the water to hand, was not.
Before all that, there was a journey on the Red Line to the north of the city where the Hector had identified the motherlode of Curry. En route we passed Wrigley Field, the Chicago Cubs baseball ground. Some had suggested we visit this, why? Professional rounders, not a real sport. There was a particularly handsome chap on the metro.
The food was wonderful, authentic Punjabi Fayre, and Marg’s Fish choice was way larger than the snack she hoped for. That would sate the appetite, for a while.
Back Downtown, Marg led me to the quay where the river boats ply their trade. Marg seemed to have a particular vessel in mind, nevertheless, we ended up with tickets for – Chicago’s Classic Lady, leaving soon. 
The boat journey was all about the architecture, the voice on the tannoy was a retired architect, city planner, what would he know? He knew everything, and was honest when it came to the brutality of the 1960s. 
Built along more classical lines, the Wrigley Building was a standout. We resisted booing as we passed a certain former US President’s Tower, twice.
The bridges constructed in the style of – trunnion bascule – are part of 
Having sat up front, well it wasn’t a ‘plane journey, we were able to secure quality photos without obstruction. Our guide took his well deserved bow at the end of the journey.
A bar-restaurant, with the majority sitting outside, we managed to acquire a table indoors. The service was abysmal, it was clear some staff had no idea what they were about. The Hector was already miffed, Brewhouse by name, not by nature. Why do so many venues claim to be brewpubs?
With no Bier to be had at source, I decided to maintain my custom of after Curry, comes Cider.
The Green Line took us a couple of stops to Adams/Wabash. Our walk thereafter took us past a crowd of undesirables, 
Downtown in the Chicago Loop, this was quite a pukka establishment, as much a cocktail bar as a restaurant. Being here for drinks only, we were guided to bar stools. I would have headed there anyway, more chance of finding out about the place, as it happens, I have little more information.
Franklin Tap was everything the two previous venues were not. 100 Craft Beers – advertised, large, spacious, and most of all – welcoming. Our table was close enough to the bar to see the action, and also get served. 
Our waiter was up for the challenge of making Hector happy, he knew the Bier, with two taps standing out, directions were given, then there was the list of cans. How long would Marg last?
Day 60, the three quarter mark, life on the road has become the norm. at least the third day in 
On reaching the zoo perimeter, we headed west, across another pond lay a pit-stop, Café Brauer. 
Finding the entrance was a frustrating challenge, no not this way. Thereafter, we were treated to a display of total indifference by the serving staff. I have oft wondered how check-in and despatch staff at airports can man their posts and never make eye contact with those waiting. Café Brauer may well be their training school. Eventually, we established there was no room at the inn and so headed next door to The Ice Cream Shoppe. There are no prizes for guessing what was purchased.
No giraffes, Marg’s favourite, the rhinoceros had to suffice. 
Some Like it Hot – what an educational movie. Apart from introducing a very young Hector to the joy of Marilyn Monroe, this movie also made me aware of 
The death toll, seven. At the OK Corral it was three. American mainland history, more are taken out in random shootings in the current era. The garage at 2122 N Clark St, where the machine guns did their job, has long gone. The site is open ground, but a chalk mark on the pavement gave a clue. 2120 N Clark St remains.
I still don’t think Marg believes that this is fresh water. The police were searching all those who crossed the bridge over Dusable Lakeshore Drive, no booze on the beach. I suppose grass, marram or otherwise, was OK?
We walked down North Avenue Beach to the Pier which resembled a recumbent spit. From here, the 
It was approaching Bier o’ clock, a few venues between our current locus and home were en route. How does this keep happening? We walked west then south through what is now called the Old Town, a pukka area, so much for Burgess’ Concentric Urban Model. If one could afford a hotel in this area, I would recommend it. A Saturday afternoon, there was the buzz of city life.
A large premises, comparable to a Wetherspoons, we were seated at a high table on the bar side of the room. The welcome water went down well, but it took some effort to secure it. A dizzy waitress.
Having found this splendid Bier, there’s the inevitable thought of more. The ongoing activities at the rear of the room made this unlikely. We moved to a table near the door, away from the noise and particularly loud females. How long had they been out?
Three bars, it was time to have a Bier at source. Along from our hotel, Freehand Chicago, which we could now see the full extent of the building, as in upwards, lies 
The Bier count was now five, American pints, there was still life in the old Hector. Marg too, was it the sight of Bally’s Casino that had Marg accompany me past the door to our hotel?
Snickers Bar & Grill opens early and closes late, it was tempting to have a marathon session here. A – dive bar – is how the Americans call such venues, as was 
There was a long list of tap Bier I did not want to drink. The can list had something familiar.
Brewery, bars, restaurant and cafe visited today:
Curry-Heute
Karahi Corner Restaurant & Catering House
Having gone underground, the train stopped. Two Neanderthals decided that smoking was suddenly permitted. An off-duty CTA employee dealt with them. 
Millennium Park was the objective, Cloud Gate aka – The Bean – the attraction. Alas, ongoing renovations in the surrounding – Plaza – restricted access to this gigantic mirror. No funny mirror images. 
Having completed the typical tourist objective for the day, it was approaching Bier o’clock. The walk back to the Green Line metro at Adams/Wabash was longer than anticipated. 
We journeyed west, inland to Ashland. The blocks north of here have a veritable cluster of breweries. A Sunday, not all open, and according to Untappd, not all offering NEIPA. We found ourselves in 
Goose Island Taproom, and Brewery
A large room, spacious, we chose a high table mid room. 
Burnt City Brewing
Bus 65 from nearby Grand & Ashland took us directly east to Illinois & State, home, but not yet. Snickers Bar & Grill was fun last night, we had to go back.
Meanwhile, back at our previous table, the noise, vaping too. Have people no regard for other people’s enjoyment, no self-awareness? Again today, we had no choice but suffer the inane conversation of our neighbours. Has the Hector had enough of the 
Adams Street is the official start/end of Route 66, we had travelled along part of it in Arizona on a school trip back in 2009. Here also lies a long established restaurant and 
From there, westward on foot passing an interesting building with multiple hanging baskets. We were not in Musselburgh.
The barman was confident that his Bier would please. He could only serve what was available.
Our fifth and final day in
The full haze was achieved well before I had finished pouring it. The body was a thick as the abv commands. Citra, Vic Secret and Motueka, were perhaps understated. Possibly, the previous Can was still affecting the taste-buds.
Flying back south to 
Alaskan Airlines flight AS600, a two hour flight departing at 14.34. This meant a somewhat leisurely morning journey to SeaTac. As we began the lengthy walk from the Metro to the terminal, so we were tooted by the driver of the wally-trolley. He had two spaces, we may as well use them. And so for the first time, the Hector was driven at the beeping snails pace through the garage to the terminal. It is a ridiculous walk otherwise.
Once again, a volcano in the Cascade Range was prominent beneath us. I hoped to see Mt. St. Helens, having taught about the 1980 eruption for thirty four years. Alas, the telltale gap on the south western rim is not as well formed in my photo, so who knows?
The landscape gave way to desert, 
From the ‘plane, I could see both Luxor and Excalibur as we taxied. So near yet so … in two previous visits to 
This was my second stay at Excalibur. The long queue to check in was as expected. Check-in online involved registering with MGM who own a swathe of hotels in
The view from the room was identical to 2000, looking back towards Harry Reid International Airport. In 2000, it was called McCarran, his legacy is no longer kosher. 
The Tropicana Hotel is coming down, so our Uber driver informed us, as is Mirage. I cannot believe The Strip is going to soon resemble Sauchiehall Street (Glasgow, Scotland).
We emerged from Excalibur into that brief moment of twilight. The exterior of the hotel is impressive. Only after I left in 2000, did I discover there’s a swimming pool, tomorrow. We found a stall selling tour tickets. The helicopter ride to Grand Canyon was instantly dismissed, another ‘plane ride, just what we need, affordable just. I could have purchased four return flights from 
On the far side, The Park Vegas, well sort of, but hey-ho – Beerhaus! Marg was hungry!
Across the street, the Hard Rock Cafe, who in time will occupy the Mirage site. Then there was – The Scottish Brewery – whose name shall never be written in these pages. It would be ironic if they sold the best range of NEIPA in 
And so to take on The Strip, and the throng. Bellagio, Caesar’s Palace, Mirage, Treasure Island, all in a line on the west side of the southern end of The Strip. There were scantily clad ladies who wanted their photos taken, why? 
Bellagio Fountains, magnificent, and free! Con Te Partiro an emotional highlight. That the show is every fifteen minutes is an bonus, little hanging about. 
Caesar’s Palace, morning glory, silly human race … sang Jon Anderson (Yes). 
What do we do tomorrow night, after all, we’ll have done – 
Marg found a spot, I insisted we move, knowing exactly where the best place to observe the show was located. 
I could get a job as a tour guide, or a photographer. Hector is retired. 
Beer Park occupies a balcony in – Paris Las Vegas – directly opposite Bellagio. A rooftop sports-bar is the official description, an excellent viewpoint, better if one can secure a table close to the edge. Access was a bit of a roundabout, well an elevator from inside the hotel was required to access the bar. We’ll always have Paris. 
To depart, the obvious route out was now accessible, exterior stairs to a gate, previously locked, on the side-walk. The walk down this section of the east side of The Strip ain’t so interesting, loads of yoofs drinking what appears to be endless litre cardboard cups of melting ice. 
Perhaps it was Hector’s erudite choice of Bier, look at the alternatives, the barman warmed to us, Marg especially. A record breaking Baileys was poured, minimal ice, maximum liquid. 
I liked the spot, an opperchancity to oversee the gamblers on the casino floor, the study of which was prohibited on previous visits. Nothing like as busy as 2000 or 2009, where are the peeps?
When will the pool open? – we asked those who looked as if they should know, e.g. the life guards, the towel handlers. Nobody knew nothing. Nobody appeared to care. No swim today.
Investing $20.00 in the three day DEUCE bus ticket felt like a good idea. The three, at least, buses planned for today would justify this. The Hector hates faffing about for tickets. The first machine encountered wasn’t talking, advice was sought from a municipal worker who looked as if he would know. The DEUCE ain’t fast or necessarily punctual, but who’s in a hurry?
Divine Dosa, an 
On departure, what was that taste in the mouth I didn’t like? Back on the DEUCE.
Visiting – The Mob Museum – was considered, but with 
Maybe those in the know stay in this part of the city, however, the queue at the DEUCE terminus confirmed that many were heading south to The Strip, regardless. We were not for joining this, a crowd of mostly – yoofs, instead, ice-cream became the objective. 
Across the road, we had passed Main Street Station. Not a train buff, but railway architecture at times is noted by the Hector. The Triple 7 Restaurant and Microbrewery lies inside, but there was no promise of anything different. Instead, we headed south towards the Arts District.
As is written, and shall be written again, in 
A 7.3% NEIPA was perhaps not the best choice for a first Bier of the day but was the only one – in the style. 
Fewer choices, limited indoor seating, one barman, one other customer, crucially, there was no – Hazy.
Able Baker Brewing
The food counter was as busy as the bar. No truck here, they do their own, the usual fayre.
One couldn’t miss the ducks. Atomic Duck – was explained, the names of many a Bier being a pun. Split Bill at 5.7% was Hector’s choice.
A Hazy IPA without the haze, was this yet another example of the bar staff not knowing they have to roll the barrel each day? With Citra and Mosaic, West Coast was coming to mind yet again, so – dry – was this Bier. Were all these Biers really so dry, or had Hector’s palate been contaminated with – cabbage – and this was distorting all?
A large corner unit, this was once again a venue which felt like home, well American home. And once again, no Hazy.
Early evening, a black sky, and helicopters endlessly doing the loop over the city for those who think this is worth it. Take the lift up Stratosphere, but try taking a decent photo with the vibration from the overhead roller-coaster. So 2000.
Having arrived at Beer Park last night just on closing, giving them another chance seemed sensible. Who knows, I might even get a glass. 
We alighted from the near empty bus at the Eiffel Tower, only in 
Having had the Contact Haze (Elysian Brewing Company, Seattle WA) last night here, why not have a different Hazy, after all, they have been hard to find today.
I enjoyed the Bier, Marg her cocktail, and the view of Bellagio once again. This time we were up for getting our photos taken and chose an obliging passer-by. OK, Beer Park, we’ve done it.
Back on the DEUCE, and the fourth trip meant we were now quids in. With seemingly no stop directly outside Excalibur, or did we just miss it, Luxor was next. I had intended bringing Marg here to show her the replicas of what we have seen with our own eyes in Upper Egypt. Excalibur is all about the exterior, at Luxor, they have an interesting interior also.
Marg was hungry. 
The aptly titled Public House had plenty of space and no smoking. Smoking had not been an issue at any of our ports of call today, normal rules apply, but not in gambling areas. 
More Contact Haze for Hector, this Bier is growing on me.
The enclosed walkway between Luxor and Excalibur eventually led us past – The Buffet. Open until late afternoon, this is not what the Hector wants. If we are going to do a Vegas Buffet, and in 2000, I think I did Caesar’s Palace, then let’s make a night of it.
Apparently, if one visits 
Brunch, in our hotel. Adjacent to the elevators for the Royal Tower is Johnny Rockets, a cafe selling American food. There was a consensus that it was time to embrace this. Marg had pulled meat in a bun, not Hector’s thing. It may look like a burger, is served in too sweet a bun, but technically ain’t. 
Heading back out into the heat, the lower east side of The Strip became Marg’s focus of attention, but not before the Hector had taken photos of Beerhaus in the daylight. 
It was approaching Bier o’clock, but with our big night out later, this was postponed. Coffee. Greenwich Village Coffee popped up on Google Maps, it had to be in New York Casino, the blue dot got us there, eventually. This impressed.
Out of sight of the casino floor lies a mock-up of, well, Greenwich Village. The 
There was a time-out back at the room, then the moment to embrace the glad rags. We’re going to a show!
The band took to the stage, three chaps out font with two sets of teeth, one and a half lookalikes. 
Maurice, in the required hat and perfect teeth, was the main man, compère, joker. If there was a Beatles-band tribute act needing a new – John – then our Robin could equally have auditioned. 
Everyone knows the music of the Bee Gees, or Lay Tossers … Clive Anderson’s interview was twenty seven years ago. Having watched that infamous interview again, it was all going so well. One person’s TV career ended that night.
Too many medleys was my only criticism of the performance, Massachusetts, we’re heading there soon, did not get the full respect I feel it deserves. I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You, Tragedy, Alone, Love You Inside Out, Words, Too Much Heaven, You Should Be Dancing, Nights on Broadway, Immortality, To Love Somebody, More Than a Woman, I wasn’t making notes, but all the old songs were covered. A video montage of the – swinging sixties – featured a British DJ whose image has been erased from television. As it happens. 
The performance was polished, humorous, musical, entertaining. For the finale, the Saturday Night Fever era, those who wished, were invited stage left to an area which had been demarcated for dancing. Women love to dance, Marg was off, leading the way. 
Beerhaus, my new local, time to try a CAN.
Back to Pour 24, well it’s difficult to avoid it. Creatures of habit, we sat in – our spot – at the bar. 
Three nights, three different barmen, no chance of another Baileys overdose? 
Bars and cafes visited today:
The last day in 
For reasons unknown, there was a long lie in. With a mid-afternoon flight there was still time to kill. Marg was hungry. The fast food eateries in the corridor connecting Excalibur and Luxor should have something simple and wet enough for a Hector to eat. With a big meal planned for later, there was no point over-indulging this early. Asian was therefore dismissed along with the usual food to be avoided. Starbucks had a yoghurt-cereal creation. Why was securing a seat so difficult? The setting was naff after the luxury of our hotel in Honolulu.
Nobody told us that de Havilland Canada DHC-6 N190GC was fifty four years old. A vintage ‘plane, and compared to the similar brand that flew us around 
A thunderous take-off had us airborne, too far to see 
The stock aerial photo of Hoover Dam is one I used in teaching for years. To finally take my own was a moment of fulfillment. How I could have done with this in my slide/Power Point shows – here’s one I took earlier.
On my first visit in 2000, I walked across the top of the dam on US 93 to the 
A bumpy ride does not begin to describe this flight. As anticipated, after we left the security of the plateau beneath us and reached the mesa and ridges, we were being bounced around the sky. 
Having seen Grand Canyon from South Rim, I knew the Colorado would appear as little more than a stream in the depths. That we secured so many decent photos was quite surprising. The late afternoon sunshine also helped, an earlier flight would have meant haze.
The sedimentary layers do mean one is looking back in time. Uplift, weathering and erosion created all this. Everyone should see the Colorado River and Grand Canyon.
Dropped back at the other entrance to Excalibur, the light was perfect. Without the gimmicky towers, Excalibur us just a big hotel.
Long trousers once again for our big night out. Buca Di Beppo is the Italian restaurant in Excalibur. We had a reservation, this meant were taken into the heart of the restaurant.
The menu rang alarms, the prices are ridiculous. How can they charge this for Lasagne and Garlic Bread? The waitress explained that a portion is to share, two of us might manage one portion. A challenge. Only at home do I ever have a satisfying quantity of Lasagne. I may have glanced at the wine menu, Sparking Water would suffice. 
The Lasagne was moist with abundant tomato sauce. At home, the Hector defies all and cooks a cheese sauce. A decent portion, we destroyed it. 
Then there was the Garlic Bread, the most expensive Bread on the planet per slice? Let’s not let the price spoil the meal. Apart from when we have been put up, our stay in 
There had to be a final Bier in