A huge industrial yard behind a piece of iron near the Moscow station appeared on the club map of the city three years ago. Between warehouses, dubious dining rooms, cheap offices and the Ligovsky pool, a two-story Drunken Pear bar suddenly grew. Here you could dance at the bar, paint the white walls, hold parties with music of the 80s, and still pour brandy alcohol, from which in the morning my head hurt. The first visitors could hardly believe that the path to a new place of power runs along an unlit road along snowdrifts and three-meter icicles, but then they reconciled. True, the “Pear” closed, the courtyard was lit up a bit, and Ligovsky, 50, developed further. At the end of 2012, Life around compiled a guide for all nightlife establishments in the dark courtyard.
Friday, half past eleven. Near the entrance to Ligovsky 50, there are two girls with L-People Club posters. They are not inclined to talk, they answer evasively about L-People Club: "Well, you see, there are only girls. We sit, discuss, and meet." The girls have florid formulations, short haircuts, almost no makeup and a warlike look. Either L-Club is afraid of the deputy Milonov, they just don’t like strangers, but they don’t pass the address and passwords.
In the Ligovsky courtyard, the main thing is not to get confused. On the right is a 24-hour-old shawarma, on the left are two-story brick buildings of former warehouses. It seems that abandoned, but no. At the first turn, turn left and go all the way. This is building 3, within the walls of which not so long ago three bars have opened. Football fans are marching toward them, apparently leaving the Dusche club concert. A young lady in an expensive coat is yelling all over the yard: "What are you saying? What a turn? Yes, here all the buildings are brick, how do I know which one is needed!" You need to know, otherwise there is a chance instead of a friendly birthday to get into the strip bar.
I must say that the dark brick vaults of the warehouse buildings have the same effect on all Ligovsky's establishments: in the interior, the owners try to use the masonry to the maximum, highlighting the bar counter with the dim light of metal lamps. Buffet Bar is no exception. Tattooed bartenders say the place opened a long time ago, then there was rebranding: a kicker, a fashionable collage on the wall and toilets with neon lights. At the same time, Fashion TV bikini shows are continuously broadcasted on plasma panels, brutal employees laugh back at them: "This is because we love Fashion."
Meanwhile, visitors are chopped into a kicker, three tables are busy: the rest of the players are waiting for their turn at the mini-tables from Ikea. The audience is different: managers in cardigans and shirts, ladies with champagne without taking off their fur coats, teenagers with green hair and pierced everyone celebrate their birthday in the corner. And all under a rather strange loud soundtrack from hits of the last two years. Eurodance is replaced by hip-hop, sometimes cute indie hits flashed in the distance. DJ, I must admit, also seemed to have wandered by accident, and from the year of 2009: a plaid shirt in a pattern, a butterfly and suspenders.
The regulars say that the walk around here begins at about 2, by 4 all in already orderly rows go or crawl to the club Jesus, in the same courtyard. The toilet really has neon ceilings, as in the Taxi program, and too fashionable plumbing for a bar with shots of 100 rubles each. The teenagers in the corner meanwhile clink their glasses for the birthday girl with beer from a plastic glass. "Hey girlfriend, let's have a drink too!" - I manage to intercept the glass from the hands of my new friend, until the contents doused me like a shower. In parting, I notice a special offer - 7 Boyarsky for 500 rubles, but there’s no more strength to check how the grenadines are mixed with vodka.
Friends only bar
In the next door from the Buffet is Friends Only Bar. Apparently, in order to justify its name, at the entrance a guard-cabinet strictly asks: "Who are you going to?" I mumble the names of people who once spoke about the place, they still let us in. In a small dark room on two sides of the entrance are two tables and leather sofas. Here two companies celebrate birthdays at once - tables are bursting from rosettes with olives, plates with sausage and cheese. And if you remove the semi-club format, it would be quite a domesticated feast. We are urged to undress, while the coat is hung in a Soviet closet at the entrance.
The audience here is much older than in the neighboring institution. Girls in tight shorts, pantyhose and high heels pace along the small dance floor. DJs play provocatively, but, again, it smells like the ubiquitous euro dance. In the bar, meanwhile, shots are shot at 100 rubles with menthol syrup.
Friends Only Bar in the summer opened two friends as a small place for their own. In a small utility room, which was supposed to once become a hookah, co-owner Ivan talks about entry rules. "Well, if I hadn’t known someone who was already here, wouldn’t we have come?" Ivan assures that of course he would have entered and that such a system is needed only to weed out the gopniks from neighboring establishments. It becomes clear that the peculiarity of the bars of the courtyard on Ligovsky is that everyone works for someone specific, but they can hardly describe it. “It’s just that we can celebrate a person’s birthday at 20-25, gather friends, and even Boyarsky’s nothing,” the co-owner continues. “Boyarsky” really is peppered and vodka does not interfere with grenadine. Women in high heels are dancing more and more actively, and we slowly move to "1703", the third bar of the building, where, according to the owner of Friends Only Bar, "complete darkness" is going on.
All the same brickwork, invariable bar counter, kicker, leather sofas, as if assembled from rented apartments with European-quality repair, and huge numbers "1-7-0-3" in the whole wall. Here is a brief bar "1703". True, two things are striking: a carpet on the floor, torn as if from the floor of a casino that has closed, a little blue one with monograms. Add to this the office panel ceiling, which makes the space too light for the taller dancers - and here is the full picture.
A little people - about 30 people. A guy in a classic suit eats a girl in the corner, a party in a kicker near the toilet comes out hot, judging by the mats. Meanwhile, the Red Hot Chilly Peppers “Favorites” begins to play, half of those sleeping on the sofas are blown up, and the dance floor jumps and waves for 4 minutes. In the bar menu, meanwhile, a very mysterious component is found - "Sveg Burger". To ask what is useless in loud music is easier to order. The result, of course, does not meet all the cherished fantasies: on a plastic plate there are two slices of buns made of toaster for sandwiches, inside ham and cheese. After such a burger, I consider it a matter of honor to order branded shots from the 1703 establishment - they pour a little Pina Colada into the shot, something surprisingly well mixed. The next signature cocktail comes out not so much rollicking, hip-hop yells louder, already familiar managers from the "Buffet" are pulling up. In parting, we check the restroom with a typical white office door. In the corner above the sink there is a nice rag towel, a home bar, not otherwise.
At the corner with the third building, a mysterious iron staircase is found on the second floor of a neighboring building. On it flaunts a black banner The Hooligans motorcycle club, a couple of guys in the dark smoke in the dark.
“Are you really bullies?”
- What do you have there?
- Can I see it?
“Yes to you, but not to your boyfriend!”
- Type motiki mending?
- Like motorcycles, not motorcycles. Where are you so curious from?
The stairs are steep, the photographer is not really invited, but brutal men are not against the company. Inside, the guys in black T-shirts drink vodka on the stones and have a bite of a hunting sausage. In the so-called attic of the motor club, everyone is in armchairs from a grandmother’s living room, a couple of tables and a bar counter with regalia and travel books. "We only do our hangouts here, and the workshop below - we repair motorcycles there in season and out of season, sometimes mopeds," the audience explain. The yard on Ligovsky is ideal for such a club, there is a lot of space, the rental rate is low.
The neighboring 6th building on Ligovsky began to be mastered 2 years ago. The first was the Dusche club, which was opened by members of the Leningrad group. From the place you can hear Russian hits. The sign is alarming, but there are a lot of people at the entrance. The “Soul” has a rather different musical program: there can be fashionable outhouse or swag parties, as well as concerts of very marginalized groups, in general, the platform works as it can. On our night there is a party at the Shit Palace bar, which can be seen every year at Kazantip. Entrance costs 300 rubles - fabulous money, but manages to bargain for 100.
The entire dance floor is filled with guys from the area, ladies in vests or just blouses with large cutouts. Nobody performs on the stage, but 10 people dance - the young ladies perform, as they think, erotic movements, young people either knead the dough, or play the famous dance "Washing Machine". The host, imagining himself an animator, dressed up in a panda costume, and for some reason unzipped the jumpsuit at all. Ball is ruled by Lyapis Trubetskoy's songs. “Super autumn, hali-gali,” the crowd draws in, they take me to the newly formed row for the cancan. In a minute there are already 15 valiant men in it, half of whom are struggling with the desire to go around without a T-shirt.
On the balcony there is a huge banner with red-black letters “To virgins champagne for free”, only the blind woman will not notice it.
- Can I have champagne for the promotion?
- Which one?
- Well, here you have virgins champagne for free!
“Are you a virgin?”
“How do you check it?”
- I'm afraid that nothing, I'm a virgin! I have a pretty strict family.
The bartender leaves to check the availability of champagne according to the action after our shouting the lyrics "In the left hand" Snickers ", in the right hand -" Mars "..."
- No, unfortunately, it's over! - the bar employee says sadly.
“And let me treat you to a booze, since you are so innocent,” my neighbor lustfully declares, who, in her own way, acquired another girlfriend of her life a minute ago. The proposal has to be tactfully rejected.
After a couple of flights from Soul, a huge high-tech door to the institution with the capacious name Nirvana Club. Login only by call. A soft female voice clearly asks in surprise: "Who are you going to?" - "To Mariyana". Probably, if you say "To Stella" or "To Angelica", the same effect will be - the doors will open. In half of the room there is a red podium, a fragile stripper in small black panties spins on a pole. Nirvana has only one visitor in a dark corner, as well as an administrator in a scarlet dress on the floor and an annoyed security officer. "You to whom?" - "To Mariyana!" The young man asks the administrator in a loud whisper: "Do we have Mariyana?" She shrugs and goes to find out. "Girl, maybe you came to the wrong place, we have a striptease here, no parties, but there are 12 buildings on Ligovsky! You double-check the address!" Maryana was never found.
Actually, on Nirvana, the institutions of the left corps are finishing and it is time to go out onto the main road again. Between Dusche and the Dunes Bar, there’s a carriage with nightly street food. Nearby is shoe repair, a broken gazelle and virtually no light. The night chef Misha joyfully offers a corn dog and french fries - each dish is 50 rubles each. Inside his van is warm and smells like a deep fryer. While preparing a bright yellow corn dog - a sausage on a stick in corn dough - Misha goes out to smoke: "When I started working here, I just went nuts: fights, boys like from Blackout (strip club nearby. - Ed.) Come out and let’s muddle each other. Plus, comrades, when they go to Jizzas too, fun. In general, I’ve seen enough of everything, but I like it. "
It turns out that in the afternoon the van sells pastries for clerks from neighboring offices, and on nights of the weekend it satisfies the hunger of tired bar visitors. Owners keep thinking about rebranding and a new menu, but so far only corn dogs on sticks are served here, though quite tasty.
Bar "Dunes" with cute ducks on the logo is located in the building of the same "Drunken Pear" 15 meters from the food trailer. It is lively here in the summer: on the sand in the sunbeds they drink beer, play ping pong and the most daring can plunge into the inflatable pool. In late autumn, everything is different: desert umbrellas, wet sand and 15 people in a small room of a bar with bright walls. Quiet music plays, according to the main St. Petersburg tradition, companies are cut into a kicker. Silence and grace - you can order coffee without fear that the contents will pour on you the first one you come across.
Blackout and Andybar
The second strip club in Ligovsky, 50 Blackout does not look like Nirvana at all. At the entrance to the basement, Lady Gaga screams from the speakers, crowds of girls wishing to enter. The young ladies pass, but they will not let us in, the guard with inspired faces pronounces uncompromising: "Without explanation of reasons."
You have to go sing in karaoke at Andy Bar. Another brick place, but Boyarsky is already worth all 150 rubles. There are people over 30 behind sofas and a few tables. At three o’clock in the morning there are about 20. Two drunken men decided to perform: "From far away, the Volga River flows, the Voo-o-Olga river flows, there is no end and edge! " One doesn’t fall into the notes, the second sings too loudly, but it doesn’t matter, because with the second phrase the whole audience is already howling heartbrokenly and helps the audience not to spoil the legendary Lyudmila Zykina’s hit. The following songs do not sound too articulate, for Basurmanian English is difficult to play in a choir. The red screen with white letters in the dark corner meanwhile looks intimidating.
As predicted by the regulars at the Buffet, about 4 we find ourselves in the club Jesus. After a night at the bars there is almost an idyll. Brick walls, lighting, in two rooms are extremely free, face control works at the entrance, which would not let a good half of visitors to the bar "1703". In the first room, discus throwers work and the whole floor is strewn with lights, bartenders pour quickly and firmly a fiery shot of Hiroshima. Something electronic is playing in the hall, but there are not many people on the dance floor, but people are dancing, it’s already a plus. We drink in the rum with cherry juice and hurry for the shawarma, the same one that works 24 hours.
Photos: Victor Kashirin