– Ambassador Hour –
[ explore the world from our lobby ]
Come in. Get your passport stamped. Follow our glamorous, intrepid, ambassador as he whirls through the great cities of Europe, sampling the local flavors and dazzling his audience with artful conversation. Celebrate travel, relish a great deal, and dream of prizes galore. Please note that this special is not available for large groups.
Wednesday-Friday 5-7pm
The Deal
$20 per person for a round of golf and an appetizer sampler plate–featuring the cuisine of wherever our Ambassador is posted. Note that we may not be able to accommodate special requests or dietary restrictions with this special.
Receive your very own Ambassador Passport, and collect a new stamp with each destination city.
Collect any six stamps for a free round of golf.
Collect twelve unique stamps for a two-night stay on us at a swanky hotel. Limits apply.
Current Post: Brussels, Belgium!
Tangier.
“As a young child I wanted to be a writer because writers were rich and famous. They lounged around Singapore and Rangoon smoking opium in a yellow pongee silk suit. They sniffed cocaine in Mayfair and they penetrated forbidden swamps with a faithful native boy and lived in the native quarter of Tangier smoking hashish and languidly caressing a pet gazelle.” -William S. Burroughs
It is the end of March, 1952. The post in Tangier was meant to be a kind of retirement, a “thank you for your services” from a grateful Nation. A light workload. A seaside villa and a trusted staff to bring our Ambassador the foreign press. He is engaged, up to date, yet still taken by surprise by the turmoil. Massive demonstrations have turned into riots. The Treaty of Tangier has been dissolved, The French are in fear for their lives and the international zone is chaos. Diplomatic skills are paramount and he dives headlong into the seething mass in an attempt to avert disaster. He is the kind of person who is brave without being aware of it. He has become friends with an American couple; a composer who writes novels and smokes himself into oblivion, and his wife, a writer tortured by self doubt. They are bohemians; smart and sometimes self destructive. In the best of times our Ambassador worries about them. In a time like this something gratuitous and terrible can happen. He makes his way quickly down side streets, gets a little lost and finds their house. He is about to knock but hears a commotion from inside. The couple are fighting. They are screaming cruel things at one another. Then, stony silence. Then, uproarious laughter. Our Ambassador smiles to himself and retreats. He is relieved. Later that evening they will meet at the Cafe Del Hafa. Tangier is on the brink but those he loves will be okay.
Budapest.
Our Ambassador finds himself lucky. A longed-for post: a suite at the Gellert and a nip of Unicum before retiring for the night. The political monolith has crumbled and, surely, soon, within two decades, hell will be unleashed. Much work is to be done, yet, might there be some time for pleasure? He takes meetings at the Rudas Baths, dines with his fellow diplomats in fashionable villas in Buda and treats himself to afternoon coffee and Gerbeaud cake in Vorosmarty Square. He visits the galleries in Pest and buys a rare drawing by Csontvary. He is in love with a waitress at Cafe New York. The city has swelled with refugees from the east. The clamor of tradition has stilled to barely a whisper. New ideas are taking root. Always a city of romance and mystery, now, a slight sense of dread too has found a home. The days stretch on. A past is hurriedly forgotten and no one truly believes in a future. Does a city, a person, that is in transition know that it is in transition?
Edinburgh.
Stately, beautiful, lost in fog. Our Ambassador prowls its streets. He follows a tiny orange cat along the Royal Mile. They take the same route every night, she finds the slightly ajar window (even on the coldest nights like this one) and settles in to her spot by the hearth. The Ambassador enters and takes his spot as well. it is the Ensign Ewart; a jolly place. He orders up dinner, pours a whiskey and reflects upon his new post. The glamour and decadence of past posts seem far away. He was forewarned that Edinburgh was dull and cold; and the folks there would treat him with suspicion. In reality nothing is further from the case. He’s been welcomed whole heartedly by the diplomatic community and treated as a long lost brother. He is enchanted by the city and its people. Smart, cranky, warm and resolute, they thrive in spite, or perhaps because, of the rain and cold. The soirees he attends are restrained; until they are not. The political discussions he takes part in are polite; until blows are struck . The people he loves, he barely knew; until he saw that was a love that would last forever. His predecessors in the foreign service had discovered an alien place; hostile, or at least, indifferent. Our Ambassador, alive to all possibilities, wearied by his colleagues self-serving cynicism takes a different path. One chilly night he followed a tavern cat and found a home.
Naples.
Our tireless Ambassador has landed a new post. On face it seems grand. The beautiful squares, the magic to be found in the old quarter, the glorious street food; a land where, even when they are mad at you, the language sounds like music. Naples, indeed, is one huge opera set. So what is troubling the Ambassador? He eschews the night life he once ardently courted. He lets invitations go unheeded and is barely at his desk. Instead he spends his time in the shadow of Vesuvius wandering the ruins of Pompeii. He ponders life's mutability and how, in one great cataclysm, all can be wiped away. His unease will prove prophetic. Hiroshima will come and no one will be able to stop it. Does he sense this? History has trapped everyone alive. Once unthinkable choices are becoming routine. Can he, in good conscience, cosy up to the Duce? A line has been drawn between honor and patriotism. Can he survive the crossing?
Nice.
Our Ambassador is on the Cote d’Azur. He is maintaining a high profile. He’s taken a suite at the Negresco and spends his afternoons at Ruhl Plage. He holds meeting over champagne and oysters at Cafe Turin and is seen dining at the best restaurants in the Old Quarter. At night he frequents the opera and, in fairness to truth, one or two less savory venues to be overwhelmed by the new American music taking root on the Continent. The locals are perplexed and rumors abound. Why has he come to Nice? The lure of sun and sea are irresistible of course. It is only natural. But Europe is in turmoil and it seems hardly a time for vacation. One must only conclude that our Ambassador is on a secret mission. It remains a mystery to this day. His letters have been preserved. They shed little light on his activities during this time. A name, Tatjana, is often mentioned. Maybe there is a simple explanation. Maybe he found love.
Instanbul.
Constantinople 1926. Our Ambassador’s first posting. The Ottoman Empire has been left to the judgment of history and the new republic of Turkey is finding its way. Every day brings new challenges. There is something thrilling in the air. Our Ambassador is young. He is in love with his new city; a city wherein all things are possible and everyone feels the communal joy. He nibbles on a gozleme and dips his feet in the Bosporus. He is at the intersection of two continents and two epochs. A sweet time. A time he holds fast.
San Sebastián.
It is 1936. Our brave Ambassador has been posted to San Sebastian, Spain in a time of war. The city is imperiled. Nationalist forces are advancing, the people are being fed lies daily and rumors of things monstrous are rife. A city where pleasure once seemed effortless: where Hemingway restored himself on the Playa de la Concha; where Modernista architecture took up a gauntlet thrown from the past; where Txakolina spills everywhere (even into one's mouth!) can no longer be a refuge. Yes, there are still parties to attend, functions to host and nothing yet has stopped the Ambassador from his strolls in the early morning light of the old town. But something has changed, something sinister and truly modern. An ancient city in a brand-new world. Can it truly hope to survive intact?
Vienna.
“Lord, if there is a heartache Vienna cannot cure I hope never to feel it. I came home cured of everything except Vienna." -Storm Jameson
"The streets of Vienna are paved with culture, the streets of other cities with asphalt." -Karl Krauss
It's 1938. War arrives. Our Ambassador has been sent to Vienna; not a plum post. The old Empire has collapsed. Vienna is filled with spies and saboteurs. Conspiracy theories run unchecked and no one alive can be considered innocent. Still, our hero is undaunted. He reports for duty, fills out forms, attends parties and, in secret, falsifies passports for people fleeing the Anschluss. Chaos reigns in the city but the Ambassador indulges himself a smile as he walks and ponders. He visits the fashionable shops on the Graben, worries about Freud's reluctance to leave the city, ruminates over a Coffee mit Schlag at Cafe Landtmann and happily listens to the ghosts of lost young men obsessing over Alma Mahler.