One of the easiest ways for people to make money here is to use their car as a taxi. They're not marked in any way. They cruise the city by the thousands. You only have to loiter by the side of the road for about one tenth of a second and a Lada will come screeching up. You lean in, tell him where you're going, agree on a price (usually about 200 to 300 Roubles in central Moscow) then hop in.
Of course, if you don't speak the language this becomes a vastly more complicated procedure. So far, Marius tells me what to say, ("Polovrskaya!") I wave a couple of hunskys in front of him and away we go. This time my offer of two hundred was met by three vigorous fingers. In no position to negotiate, I slumped in my seat and said, "Da..." Later, Marius assured me if I had insisted on two, the driver would have backed down. Now he tells me.
After picking up Marius, the cab dumps us out on a beautiful street with a long park running in between the opposing directions. The streets are slushy with muck. But after avoiding being spattered with drive-by sluice, we end up in "Jan-Jak", which is pronounced Frenchly, "Jean-Jacque".
Like most places here, if second-hand smoke is problem for you then you're best staying home. Even so, Jan-Jak is a warm, cozy two rooms that look and feel like the place you would plan the Revolution. Not long ago they lost their liquor license. Undoubtedly, their bribes didn't get to the right people. Nevertheless, friends of the manager can get fermented, aged grape juice served in a wine glass.
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