Issue #11/66, June 3 - 17, 1999  

Good news. My girlfriend Amy returned from Canada, where she was on extended leave due to the precarious situation here in Moscow. Luckily, things seem to have cooled down a bit here, and Russians are more concerned with local politics than with the war in Kosovo. That's a good thing too, considering the fact that the local media went on--from what I understand from The Moscow Times--a shameless propaganda campaign to paint the Serbs as victims of NATO aggression, a line no less shamefully followed by this newspaper.

(Incidentally, I want to insert a "Shame On You" to Mr. Leonid Bershidsky for writing a mostly positive piece about the eXile in his MT "Media Watch" column. It is a great omission--even an irresponsible one--to write about the eXile without mentioning its shameful elements of sexism, racism, misogyny, and childish humor, not to mention its predictable going-against-the-mainstream attitude. Mr. Bershidksy, many of us read and respect you--I hope this doesn't harm your reputation.)

Anyway, voices of reason--not to mention another Moscow political crisis--mean that Russian taxi drivers have toned down their aggressive anti-Western behavior just enough for Amy to return safely, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I am damn glad. Our relationship was nearly one of probably hundreds of thousands of casualties of this tragic, though just, war. Amy returned last Wednesday, and I spent two days engaged in some serious snuggling and spooning. I didn't want to leave our queen-sized futon for a minute! Even Amy had to tell me enough was enough!

More good news: this time, for you. Two new clubs have opened in Moscow, further belying the myth of the "dying nightlife" story. Friday night, Amy joined me in an evening tour of Moscow. She still objects to my being the nightlife writer for what she considers to be the most offensive newspaper in the world (not "offensive" in a good or cool way, but offensive in a way that's cliched and hurtful, as we both agree), but she agrees that the work in principle is exciting and positive. Besides, it's tough as hell to get a job in Moscow these days, and I've always wanted to try my hand at journalism.

Let's leave that aside and return to last Friday night. We began our evening at Garage's super-popular Birthday Bash. Things started out on the wrong foot when they refused to let Amy in because she was wearing her 'Bocks. "No sports shoes indoors" the fascists told us. Amy nearly had a fit.

"In Canada, you'd get sued for turning someone away just because they're not wearing the kind of shoes that you wear!" she told them. She rightly pointed out that all kinds of women were allowed in wearing high heels--which in Canada is something that not only would be laughed at, but even scorned for the pain and injury they cause to women's spines, and sense of self-esteem. I calmed her down--after all, Garage is a top-notch bar with a smart, upscale, even socially-conscious crowd (at times), and I try my best to support such places. We returned home, where she slipped into a pair of earth-toned Ecco flat-heeled shoes, and we returned.

Boy was it worth it. The place was literally packed full with just the right mix of older, intelligent people, hipsters, artists, businessmen, and models. After awhile, it was just too much and we needed some air. Amy was a little miffed from the shoe experience, and also, after spending over a month in Canada, she was getting that re-entry culture shock that all of us experience upon returning to Moscow.

After that, we took a taxi to Me100 (pronounced "Mye-sto," a pun on the Russian words for "bar" and "100," a pun I only picked up because, unlike so many Americans here, I actually take the time to study the Russian language), a new ultra-hip club located in the former Kropotkinskaya-36 cooperative restaurant on Ulitsa Prechistinka. Me100 is rumored to have been opened by some ex-Jazz Kafe veterans, but for those of you worried about supporting ethnic cleansers, don't worry. I didn't notice a Serb presence. Although the doorman definitely had the goon thing going, insofar as he tried to prevent us from entering until I showed him my press pass. The nicest thing was that entrance was absolutely free!

The upper floor retained some of the former restaurant's elegant style, even featuring a large buffet of meats, fruits, and desserts. Downstairs was where the real action was. The basement has been converted into a cozy, hip disco with three square dance platforms scattered about, and seating on the sides. The crowd was definitely Jazz Kafe, only far less crowded. Many women wore sunglasses on their heads, as did some of the men. Amy told me that the drinks were three times the price of drinks in Canada, so we slowly sipped the Tom Collinses to last the evening.

At one point, a young woman with short blond hair asked me to light her cigarette. Amy thought she was a prostitute, and although I objected, it turns out that Amy wasn't all that wrong. Both the blond and her brunette friend craftily started dancing in the middle of the room, then each took a platform and started to undress. That was enough for the both of us.

"Isn't there one place in this country that doesn't treat women like objects?!" Amy said. I know that the shoe incident had placed her in a bad mood, but this didn't help.

"Frankly, I feel sorry for the both of them," I said.

"I don't," Amy opined, "it's their own fault."

She's probably right. In any event, we didn't stick around for the spectacle, moving instead on to another new club, Lex, located on the opposite side of town on Taganskaya Square. (On our way there, we passed by Virus, which caused a small spat. Amy thinks that I implied in my last article that I had an affair with my English language student, which was a complete misinterpretation. She even threatened to make me sleep on the couch, but when the evening was over, I think Amy wanted to spoon just as badly as I did, so there was no thought of "couching" me, as we put it.)

Lex is a strange and wonderful place indeed. It's located in one of those pre-fab torgovy dom glass pyramids that you see at certain metro stations around town where they sell clothes and food. Around the side to the pyramid structure in Taganskaya, you'll find Lex, a two-story futuristic club whose reliance on chrome and ultraviolet blues reminds me of a poor man's Virus. Only it's better than Virus, because it isn't as pretentious, it's cheap as heck, and the crowd is a real down-to-earth set. The music is mostly of the techno sort--the owner told me that they even have "real techno" night on Thursdays, although I have a hard time distinguishing between the various styles of techno music. The people were young without being too young, mod without being too mod. But for Amy and me, the best thing was the cheap prices. I'm talking beer for under two dollars! It was like being back in Thailand or Vietnam, trekking for bargains!

We later tried the food, which has earned a spot in the eXile's restaurant guide. In a word, I'll just tell you that if for nothing else, Lex is worth a visit just for having the single best mega-cheap food bargains in town. Try the four dollar sturgeon shashlik or the two dollar club sandwich, not to mention omelets and blinchiki, and you'll see what I'm talking about.

Well, that's it for this week. And a great week it's been for me. I hope for you, too.

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