A bit of Moscow...

So, it's now Tuesday and I have been busy and so I've not managed to do anything fun. I had time for a trip to the "маркет" across the street, which was fun because there were many UEOs (Unidentifiable Edible Objects) to conduct research upon. I'll bring some back... the dried fish looks particularly attractive. Of course, it could also be cat food, a bit like that stuff I bought back from Japan and Hong Kong and swore that it was for humans. Sorry about that folks.

The маркет is located in a department store, which smells fusty and is very quiet. It has a huge menacing security guard at the entrance, and is a total throwback from the 70s. The staff all seem to whisper and there was some cheesy lift music playing. As I was nonchalantly perusing the, ahum, denim section, an instrumental version of 'Vive Espana' started to play. There was an entire floor devoted to ladies' winter coats!

I was looking through the Moscow Times for a restaurant to eat in on Sunday night and was horrified to see that many of them had dress codes ranging from "Jacket and Tie" to "Pretend you are at the Oscars." The best dress code I saw was for a fish restaurant: "Something that doesn't hinder your ability to eat fish." HAHAHA, Muscovites get really dressed up and it seems that giving a lady a single red rose is not cheesy as I've seen loads of women looking doe-eyed at a huge hulking bloke and clutching a rose. It also seems that the down escalator on the metro is prime snogging territory. Seriously, the escalators, which are long and slow, are full of couples canoodling as if they are never going to see each other again.

We almost decided on a restaurant called "Cheese Hole" simply because the name was so funny but in the end we went into the centre instead where I saw a poor siberian wild cat squished into a fish tank, presumably so it wouldn't run away or scratch you to bits. Alongside the fish-tank-kitty were three rabbits sitting, bored, on top of a cardboard box. It turns out that people make money by charging people to take a photo holding one of the animals.

I must admit, I was a bit delirious by the time I went to dinner, and after a really long day, my brain could not handle any new information, so I do not have too many observations to recall. We got a taxi home, well sort of, because it seems that the way to get a taxi here is to stand at the side of the road until someone stops. You then gesticulate wildly at him until you agree on a price and then voila, off you go in your illegal taxi. On Sunday, we actually saw a legal taxi parked on the side of the road, and were about to approach it, when an eagle-eyed Rusky zoomed up in front of it and started yelling "TAXI TAXI TAXI" at us.

On Monday night we went to a huge Georgian restaurant. I caused mayhem and widespread panic by ordering starters for my main course because the menu was meat, meat, meat or meat oh and meat. There was a sturgeon shashlik which I really did not fancy...sturgeon is the fish they make the caviar out of. Basically, after they scrape out the eggs from the poor fishies' pregnant belly, the waste, which is the fish, is chopped into chunks and shoved on a bbq. It was the most expensive thing on the menu, at around E30. So I ordered hachipuri which is bread smothered with feta-like cheese and covered with egg and butter. Whoo hooo! Look at that! My three favourite food stuffs in one handy mouthful. Andrei tried to explain to the waiter that I wanted this yummy delight for main course. And even I understood the waiter saying "But it is just bread. Bread. Bread? Just Bread?" I also had Georgian red wine that tasted distinctly like bubble gum. And of course an obligatory shot of vodka. Highlight of the night was watching the train wreck on the table opposite. One man was so drunk that he fell asleep on the table. Every so often his head would loll backwards, and he'd open up his eyes, and look like he was about to throw up and then fall asleep again.

Today, I also found out that, those Russians who do not live in Moscow have to get a travel visa to be in the city. The people who come from outside the city to our meeting have to get their piece of paper stamped with the company stamp to prove that they travelled to Moscow for a specific reason. Wow. Reminds me of Cuba. But, I suppose it is in place to control urban migration.

Right, that's all for now. I've been typing all day. My ears hurt from the crappy interpretation headphones. I'm off to consume vodka...