Welcome to Babushkastan

Wednesday May 9: Victory Day celebrations and I found myself out the front of Universitet Metro Station waiting for eKaterina. She was going to show me the best place to watch the fireworks up on Sparrow Hill, a high point in front of the university with views over the entire city.

We were both feeling a little peckish so we decided to get something to eat. After wandering about for a while eKaterina asked a couple of babushkas selling flowers if they could recommend anywhere. They pointed to the place pictured above. A so-called Disco Bar.

The busty girl in the poster above the door didn’t inspire confidence about the food on offer, if indeed meals were served at all. Nor did the dark, ‘intimate’ interior. It was so dark that the bouncer took us by the elbow to lead us to our table.

It was when the waitress brought us the menu that the alarm bells really started ringing. She was wearing a g-string and two tiny triangles of material - one over each nipple. eKaterina’s reaction - i.e. none - suggested that this was all part of a normal Moscow eating experience.

When my eyes adjusted to the light I noticed a stage in front of us. It was hidden by a thin mesh curtain but I could make out the silouhettes of girls practising their moves on a brass pole. One would try a few moves and then the other would give them a few pointers on how they could improve.

Again, eKaterina reacted as if this was perfectly normal.

‘Perhaps they are warming,’ she said. ‘To prevent injuries.’

When the near-naked waitress came back to take our order I insisted eKaterina ask if there were any extra charges, hidden or otherwise, for the ‘atmosphere.’ The girl looked shocked.

‘Oh no!,’ she said. ‘This is just my uniform. The non-stop strip show doesn’t start until 9 p.m.’

The girls kept practising. Our meals came. (As good as you’d expect from a meal from such an establishment.) And the bill came to a reasonable 350 roubles.

And Jason, before you ask, my beer cost 90 roubles. More, I’m sure, after nine!