Life in Russia [antikvár]

Introduction Sooner or later every Western tourist to Russia is confronted with the same problem. You decide to leave your tour group and go out one evening with your husband or wife to an ordinary Russian restaurant - a chance, perhaps, to meet the people, to see how the average Muscovite enjoys himself away from the Intourist guides. You pick one of a dozen restaurants recommended at the hotel service desk, ask them to make a booking, and set off for the evening's adventure. But when you get there, things are not quite what you imagined. A heavy wooden door with a big glass panel is firmly shut. Beyond it is another door leading into the restaurant itself, with a net curtain covering the glass. In the little lobby between the two sits an old man in a crumpled uniform and cap who periodically gets up and scowls at the motley group of people hanging around outside. He appears not to understand your signs to him to open the door, and shouts out something you cannot understand. What do you do? There are three approaches. You can insist on your rights and make a scene: look, I have a booking here. Kindly open this door immediately. I am a Western tourist and I insist you let me in. The grumpy doorman becomes downright surly. He shouts out something again, then sits down and takes no further notice of you. Or you can appeal to his better nature: Please, I do want to go in. And you shuffle about uncomfortably as you plead with him. He seems impervious to wheedling, and gestures you away haughtily. Or you can stand firmly in front of the