The desk clerk spoke carefully and clearly, pointing to a sign on the counter next to him after the check-in process was completed. "From 5 to 9...no money," with a wave of his hand. It was as if he were describing a parlour game or a currency rationing. It turned out to be kind of both. The little homely bar area offered a cozy happy hour with an assortment of liquors, glasses, ice and perfectly serviceable snacks. A little slice of heaven. The domestic whiskey was not half bad and endeared me even more to this glorious little hotel. When we left, the staff members stood respectfully in front of the desk and bowed at us as we walked to the waiting taxi like we were minor dignitaries. It felt natural and organic and unforced - the polar opposite of a corporate chain hotel experience and rescued the concept of commercial hospitality for me off the assembly line where it usually resides.