more of work

so because we're at the conference earlier than the conference starts, we're trying to do some work. we interview 3 more sex workers. two in a bazaar, supplied by friendly neighborhood sex worker extraordinaire (the one who wanted to take me out dancing). we're sitting in a clothes market--this giant 2 story structure full of little booths, or partitioned holes, really, that are selling everything from fur (fake i'm sure) coats to bras to toddler clothing. it's nuts here. upstairs the cafe is busy as well. and the interviews happen amid a loudness that carries, hopefully not into my recorder. after the interviews, we sit down with the original sex worker and steve talks to her some more about organizational structure of sex work in moscow. she takes shots of vodka out of plastic cups as the conversation goes on. in between questions, she turns to me to tell me she likes my eyes. then, she tells she's been hired by women before (this is the part of conversation i'm not translating for steve). then, she tells that if i were to hire her, she'd agree...and tehn wouldn't charge me at all. i am feeling very awkward.
we end up going out to dinner, to an australian restaurant, yes, in the middle of moscow. like every other place in this city, it too serves sushi--the national russian dish. because i sort of dot want to eat 'australian' salad adn cannot find anything that does not contain teh word australian beef in it, i settle for some sushi. bad choice. as steve pointed out once we left the restaurant it has a taste of actual real australian sushi, as if it was shipped from australia, some days ago.