After work I passed by for my muirnín in her office to go to Biblio-Globus on Myasnitskaya Ulitsa, which I hadn't visited in a while. The bookstore, one of the few carrying English and other foreign titles in Moscow, has improved a lot since I'd last seen it, perhaps in spring. The four-storey style moderne building that houses it, located next to the former KGB headquarters and the State Museum of Vladimir Mayakovsky in Lubyanskaya Ploshchad (Lubyanka Square), was built in the late 19th century by the architect M. Bugrovsky. It housed a shop owned by a certain N. Stakheev before being expropriated by the state in the wake of the 1917 October Revolution. In 1957 the Moscow Soviet decided to establish the state-run Knizhnyj Mir (Book World) on the first two storeys of the street then called Ulitsa Kirova 6. It was only in 1992, when most place names in the new Russian Federation reverted to their pre-revolution forms, that the company was renamed Biblio-Globus.
Anyway, a yearlong renovation changed the feel of the interior; a modern basement was added, while the foreign language section now stocks more titles. The stairs were now set in marble, giving the whole place a much more modern look. The only problem was books were still stacked willy-nilly. Although the staff offered computerised assistance in title searches as well as a book-ordering service finding a title in the piled-up stacks remained a dodgy proposition. (The Russian language sections also seem problematic, if the comical situation described by Ben Zajicek, a history graduate student of the University of Chicago, late last year still applies: "The selection of history books is spotty...mostly it's shelf after shelf of military history and confessions of Stalin's bodyguard's lover.")
Yet there's something attractive about just *stumbling* upon a book you'd fancy. Call me a fan of the Princes of Serendip, if you wish, but there's something wickedly irresistible about chaos. Even though I was really looking for the Cultural Guide of Russia by A.L. Burak et al and couldn't find it, it didn't prevent me from picking up a few books found by accident. I know what you're thinking: file me under the "Shopping as Therapy" section.
Well all that book-browsing got me and my Inessa hungry. Leaving Balios parked in front of the church on the bend (right next to Open Café on Myasnitskaya 13 - currently under renovation) we went to Propaganda for some Asian fusion dinner. One of Moscow's best dance hang-outs, Propaganda was one of the first clubs I visited with Borg in early autumn 2003. It shot to prominence in the 1998 post-crisis period, mainly for its reasonable prices, good music and cute girls. Apart from my own petites aventures there, it merits special mention in the authoritative history of Moscow clubs by Dmitry Shalya: "[I]n the era of general impoverishment, Propaganda became the place to be for entertainment-hungry party animals. And since there was no need to go to work anymore, people were clubbing here nearly all week, faithfully attending Sanches’ Thursdays and even the nameless Tuesdays. A trip to Propaganda at 3am became a post-crisis tradition. Moscow clubbing survived even the crisis." Brit DJ Alison Marks has this take: "The atmosphere there is unbelievable, one of the best in the world. It's without a doubt my favorite place to play."
This time though, we went there for dinner. It was -to be expected on Thursdays- full. Hadn't realised that Thursday remains the most popular night, with only Phlegmatic Dog and The Real McCoy as its only serious rivals. (In addition, Tuesday has emerged as hip-hop night and Wednesday, its Afro-Brazilian, soul funk and upbeat jazz night.) Backing up a bit on Bolshoi Zlatoustinsky Pereulok, we tried Bourbon Street (remember Sting and New Orleans?) but I guess it's too much to expect good and inexpensive food at an American-style dive bar. Would be nice to go just for drinks, likely. One of the vivid images retained from my club-going days with Borg was a row of topless buxom women dancing to a male-dominated mob in November 2003 or thereabouts. They closed the bar for a while for redecoration, one surmises. But there wasn't much by way of improvement, from the peek we got there.
The two other restos, Terrasa and Santori, both appeared questionable so we took to the car again to round the block and eat at The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, charming lounge owned by the same restaurateurs who run Courvoisier. Better known by its Russian name, Skromnoye Obayaniye Burzhuazii, this Luis Buñuel-inspired resto on Bolshaya Lubyanskaya Ulitsa has it all - location, interior, food, cost and clientele. For a while, though, I was turned off by the difficulty in securing tables and the mediocrity of the dishes, especially in relation to its prices. I don't know why, but I always had this impression of Burzhuazii as being pricey. Well Dearie and I went in, were seated almost immediately and chose reasonably priced and carefully prepared dishes. It was also very pleasant to be around nice-looking but real people, as my ducky terms it. In almost every detail, except for slow service, we left quite satisfied. (I guess getting a parking slot quickly was an auspicious mood-setter.)
This evening turned out to be a good chance to revisit and, in many instances, reappreciate my old haunts in the Lubyanka area, especially Biblio-Globus, Propaganda and The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.
Anyway, a yearlong renovation changed the feel of the interior; a modern basement was added, while the foreign language section now stocks more titles. The stairs were now set in marble, giving the whole place a much more modern look. The only problem was books were still stacked willy-nilly. Although the staff offered computerised assistance in title searches as well as a book-ordering service finding a title in the piled-up stacks remained a dodgy proposition. (The Russian language sections also seem problematic, if the comical situation described by Ben Zajicek, a history graduate student of the University of Chicago, late last year still applies: "The selection of history books is spotty...mostly it's shelf after shelf of military history and confessions of Stalin's bodyguard's lover.")
Yet there's something attractive about just *stumbling* upon a book you'd fancy. Call me a fan of the Princes of Serendip, if you wish, but there's something wickedly irresistible about chaos. Even though I was really looking for the Cultural Guide of Russia by A.L. Burak et al and couldn't find it, it didn't prevent me from picking up a few books found by accident. I know what you're thinking: file me under the "Shopping as Therapy" section.
Well all that book-browsing got me and my Inessa hungry. Leaving Balios parked in front of the church on the bend (right next to Open Café on Myasnitskaya 13 - currently under renovation) we went to Propaganda for some Asian fusion dinner. One of Moscow's best dance hang-outs, Propaganda was one of the first clubs I visited with Borg in early autumn 2003. It shot to prominence in the 1998 post-crisis period, mainly for its reasonable prices, good music and cute girls. Apart from my own petites aventures there, it merits special mention in the authoritative history of Moscow clubs by Dmitry Shalya: "[I]n the era of general impoverishment, Propaganda became the place to be for entertainment-hungry party animals. And since there was no need to go to work anymore, people were clubbing here nearly all week, faithfully attending Sanches’ Thursdays and even the nameless Tuesdays. A trip to Propaganda at 3am became a post-crisis tradition. Moscow clubbing survived even the crisis." Brit DJ Alison Marks has this take: "The atmosphere there is unbelievable, one of the best in the world. It's without a doubt my favorite place to play."
This time though, we went there for dinner. It was -to be expected on Thursdays- full. Hadn't realised that Thursday remains the most popular night, with only Phlegmatic Dog and The Real McCoy as its only serious rivals. (In addition, Tuesday has emerged as hip-hop night and Wednesday, its Afro-Brazilian, soul funk and upbeat jazz night.) Backing up a bit on Bolshoi Zlatoustinsky Pereulok, we tried Bourbon Street (remember Sting and New Orleans?) but I guess it's too much to expect good and inexpensive food at an American-style dive bar. Would be nice to go just for drinks, likely. One of the vivid images retained from my club-going days with Borg was a row of topless buxom women dancing to a male-dominated mob in November 2003 or thereabouts. They closed the bar for a while for redecoration, one surmises. But there wasn't much by way of improvement, from the peek we got there.
The two other restos, Terrasa and Santori, both appeared questionable so we took to the car again to round the block and eat at The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, charming lounge owned by the same restaurateurs who run Courvoisier. Better known by its Russian name, Skromnoye Obayaniye Burzhuazii, this Luis Buñuel-inspired resto on Bolshaya Lubyanskaya Ulitsa has it all - location, interior, food, cost and clientele. For a while, though, I was turned off by the difficulty in securing tables and the mediocrity of the dishes, especially in relation to its prices. I don't know why, but I always had this impression of Burzhuazii as being pricey. Well Dearie and I went in, were seated almost immediately and chose reasonably priced and carefully prepared dishes. It was also very pleasant to be around nice-looking but real people, as my ducky terms it. In almost every detail, except for slow service, we left quite satisfied. (I guess getting a parking slot quickly was an auspicious mood-setter.)
This evening turned out to be a good chance to revisit and, in many instances, reappreciate my old haunts in the Lubyanka area, especially Biblio-Globus, Propaganda and The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.
