a bar by any other name, may actually not be a bar

It is interesting traveling alone. I find that I would not make many of the connections that I am fortunate to make if I were with a group or a friend, but at meal time, it is hard not to realize that our world is designed for companions. I walked into a wine bar, AOC, which was recommended to me because its wine list is quite good and because there is a bar, which is uncommon around here. And, traveling alone it is nice to sit at the bar, meet other travelers, or chat up with a bartender to learn the secrets of the city. I have news for my friend...this is not a bar.

Yes, wine list terrific, and I am going to drink this wine while I have a date with all of you, my readers, thank god for you, but I cannot wait to get out of here! The bar is the end of the cooking kitchen, where the very nice chef, who does not speak a word of English (this is my flaw, not his) is preparing food and handing it to the staff. So, yes, exactly as you expect, I am totally in the way, awkward!!

What is worse, I am overhearing a load British women tell a story about. stupid American who can't speak French. At least, I am quiet, ha! This is comical, but I want it to end soon.

How's your wine? I am having a glass of Saint Peray, which is actually in the Northern Rhone and it is delicious. Do you think they will talk about me if I pound it and run out the door?

L'addition, s'il vous plais!