Enterthe Duke's
old front door,
stay, dine, dance.
A grand house in the shtetl of Vaystickvus, kept warm by Margery and Moishe for travellers from anywhere and neighbours from next door.
Ballroom, bell tower, borscht — under one very old roof.
Real rooms.
Real neighbours.
What guests, wedding parties, and Tuesday regulars say about Hotel Vaystickvus.
“We came for one night and left on the fourth, having learned the bell tower's full repertoire.”
“Moishe carried our bags up three flights, then sat down and told us who danced on every floorboard.”
“The beet pizza sounds like a joke until it arrives. Then it sounds like the reason people keep coming back to Vaystickvus.”
“Our wedding filled the ballroom. Margery ran the evening like a duchess with a clipboard.”
“Old floors, warm radiators, strong tea at seven, and nobody rushing you out of the parlour at midnight.”
“The borscht alone justifies the train, the bus, and the walk uphill.”
“Half the town eats here. That tells you everything a review site cannot.”