Normal Service Returned - The Bornheim Irish Pub is Open

I think my liver has been one of the happiest organs in my body over the past weeks as my local was closed for a quick renovation under the new owner. Sure, I made it out for a few drinks here and there at various places, but not with the same frequency as before. That's probably a good thing.

A place called Sugar sort of became my regular meeting point. It's not a very big place, a bit on the trendy side, and tends to sell more mixed drinks than beers. However, this is Germany after all, so you can always get a pils. What makes Sugar especially cool is that the front windows all open up, allowing for people to sit in the window sills. The biergarten has quite a few tables which tend to be full of patrons night after night, especially now with the super weather that Frankfurt is experiencing.

Stefan and I were in there last Friday night, and for whatever the reason, we decided that after three beers, we'd each have a margarita. Stefan had initially tried to talk me into a tequila shot, but gladly accepted the alternative suggestion. The barman scored points for presentation, but alas, the drink wasn't all that great. Probably a good thing, because I suddenly missed a few choice establishments on Lower Greenville in Dallas that were known for their tasty margs.

At any rate, Stefan ordered us mojitos for the next round, and things started getting a little fuzzy, but enjoyable. I'd been telling Stefan about my night out with Susi the previous evening; I hadn't seen her since the football hooligan pub night the week before. We'd actually had a good chat, sorted a few things out, and I was feeling much better about the whole situation. In fact, the whole week had been pretty good, thus the desire to celebrate with a few drinks.

"Was bedeutet beer before liquor never sicker auf Deutsch?" I asked Stefan as we crunched the ice from our mojitos. He acknowledged the phrase, but said there really isn't an equivalent expression in his language. With that, I ordered up a couple of long island iced teas, and upon my first sip, remembered why I just don't like that drink much. It is a preferred drink of Stefan, though probably not the most intelligent drink to order as our last round (of quite a few rounds) of the evening. Stefan noted that he was truly drunk and would struggle to get home, but that's what Friday nights are all about.

I asked for the bill, then handed cash to the barman to cover the entire tab. Stefan protested, albeit drunkenly. In Germany, everyone pays their own way. In fact, you'll frequently see a waitress struggling at a crowded table to sort out how much everyone owes. There's really no such thing as splitting the tab equally amongst the number of people at the table. This custom continues with couples, too. Most couples go dutch every single time.

This custom makes perfect sense, but it's a bit annoying for me. I tend to follow the traditional style of paying for a round, whether I collect the pints from the barman or the pints are brought by the waitress. What goes around comes around, right? I'd talked about this with Stefan, who kept asking, "but how to you keep everything even?"

It's funny, Germans in general do not care as much about money. Er, until they have to spend it, that is. My customary habit of covering a nights drinking really doesn't come from the fact that I don't care about money. It's just that years ago at college, no one really had any money, so we all turned to pooling our funds to buy beer, play pool, or whatever.

For most of my 20s, I lived paycheck to paycheck. Whoever had money usually paid, ensuring that everyone had a good time. Around close friends, this is fairly easy to manage. Someone who starts to take advantage of the situation tends to get closed out of the loop pretty quickly.

Once I started making enough money to save a bit more, I found myself enjoying the opportunity to "invite" someone for a drink from time to time. This is very common in Spain, and to some extent, not unusual in Germany. However, that tends to happen more in casual circumstances: an impromptu coffee with a few acquaintances, etc.

Around close friends, I've always tried to keep the bill pretty even, but still tend to pay a bit more than my share, just in case someone is a bit short. That was my idea at the end of Friday evening, when Stefan insisted that he pay his share. I indicated that I'd pay for the margaritas and the iced teas, but he wasn't comfortable with that. I pointed out that he could pay the bill the next time we were out for drinks, but he responded that he might forget. I mentioned that I would certainly remind him, then went on to relate some experiences from Dubliner and Old Monk days where sometimes we'd go weeks before settling up.

Stefan then said that his culture was different, and while he understood everything I was saying, he said he needed time to get used to it. I was pretty touched. Here I was, in effort to show that I valued his friendship more than money, was actually almost insulting him. But, he was trying not take offense and simply respect my own custom. Lesson learned.

Money sorted, we headed down the street, Stefan staggering all over the place. There are about five bars between Sugar and the corner of my street, and Stefan stopped and looked in each place. We almost stopped for a kebap, which would have been a horrible mistake, then paused in the doorway of the next trinkhalle. A couple of people were standing at the bar, and they invited us in. Oh the things you do at 3am in the morning. We had a last beer with them, and somehow I felt a bit more sober as I finished my glass. Home to bed. A nice way to finish the workweek and start the weekend.

I enjoyed a quiet Saturday, and stayed in that evening; the previous evening had been plenty. Besides, I knew I'd slip out for a few pints on Sunday afternoon while watching the Arsenal match.

How pleased I was on Sunday afternoon to see that my local had reopened: tables out on the terrace, people enjoying the sunshine. At last.

I had a good trip to the gym, then showered up and walked into the pub around 3.30 hoping to have a sandwich or something before the Arsenal match. Ray greeted me, and showed me the renovations that they had done in the past four weeks. Most importantly, the bar is much cleaner than before, and that's a huge plus. The fresh coats of paint, the rearrangement of the tables, the new sound system all look good, too.

My old stool was waiting for me, and I spent the next couple of hours just enjoying the return of the local. Arsenal didn't play all that well in their match against Fulham, but still won the game. Word was spreading quickly that the pub had reopened, so a lot of familiar faces were popping in for a pint or two. It was a bit of a reunion, if you will.

The pub had actually reopened the previous evening; I hadn't noticed because I was already in for the night. I was actually glad to have missed the opening, and Ray already said that the formal opening party wouldn't happen for a couple of weeks anyway.

I returned to the pub Monday night, hoping to see a lot of the folks that I hadn't seen in a few weeks, and was delighted to run into just about everyone I've met over the past months in Bornheim. English John and I greeted each other warmly, mentioning that we'd seen one another at the U-Bahn stop a couple of early mornings, neither of us wanting to talk much. We also planned to light the bar on fire (with a bit of zippo fuel) at some point in a few weeks, just for old times sake and to welcome the return of the pub.

In a way, the pub feels a bit different. Ray is a proper barman and has the place looking pretty sharp. But, not all of the old employees are back. It will take a bit of time before I can bring in music to play, but I'll slip something into the cd changer at some point. Still it's my local, and I'm pleased.

The first waitress that I met at the pub last December was a girl named Zena. She was exceptionally nice, but quit the job before the end of January. I heard later that she didn't get along with the owner. She works at a bank in Frankfurt along with her friend Heike, who's sister was actually the owner of the pub. Heike worked at the pub from time to time, also. Both of them came in about an hour after I arrived, and they made excellent company. Tomislav and Goran, my Serbian friends (and former employees of the pub) joined us and the five of us spent the next several hours chatting, laughing, and getting pretty oiled. Goran and I talked about the upcoming release of the Simonout album; Goran is spending a lot of time in the studio finishing the production. Zena has an awesome laugh, she tends to giggle constantly. So does Heike, for that matter. Both speak English very well, but pushed me to speak in German as much as possible. Practicing German with a couple of attractive German girls? Um, OK.

At 2.30am, we paid up, and all went our separate ways. An exceptional night, and I'm rewarded with a hell of a hangover today. Fortunately, it's May day, a holiday for much of Europe. So, I can recover without having to think much about work. Work is something I'll worry about on Wednesday.

Today is all about relaxing on my balcony, having a coffee, doing a bit of writing and guitar playing. I might have a shower later, but who knows.

I've been in Germany for five months, now. Pretty cool.

cheers
bryan