The bar/place/service is irrelevantly standard if not for the Che-Che covered walls, no Red Bull (they serve a natural substitute energetic based on sugarcane) and filo-cuban menu, flags, outer walls and a few quirks in the drinking range. They have no pretty dancing bartender girls, only solid tanned and a bit aged socialist faces. Since the stairs act as a bowl for standing consumers and a few of the quirks are pretty constraining a stew of micro-competitors, some fake, flourished all around. These "other-places" serve Red Bull, shit beer (the draft at the Nevsky is excellent while bottled is limited) and more exotica (chill-out and the revival vodka-bacardi range).

The lower part of the stairs, bordering to a small hotel, holds for local mature regular couples or groups who may exploit the round tables & chairs and munch snacks, salads and have cocktails.

The top side borders to the renowned chock full of churches Via Crociferi, a Baroque nightmare, and holds locals, younger, loose or inarticulate groups, only apparently lacking a rigid hierarchy, that may look and act like punk gangs but have nothing in common with what you remember using the "punk" tag for. Here you'll find pot available, skunk and sometimes hash. Angels and cocaine-sniffers must be hiding well within the mess.

The mid-section is the largest, it holds drinkers from about everywhere and the draft-lovers, hard beer drinkers and expert survivalists. Survivalists are drinkers that are into the routine so much and well that you may spot them having Moretti for breakfast, then Heineken up to late afternoon and several naps and double-espresso strategically placed in between to stay alive until the evening.

Only the category living atop of the stairs can be seen really blitzed here, the rest enjoys a stoic machismo that is rule in socialist mythology.

Aggressive gay groups can be found laying on the side self celebrating their best screening abilities. These guys can scan deeply, select, make fun of obsolete trends, emerging ones or simply laugh at the tacky stuff passing by. Gays successfully encroach on neighbor's land if istigated. Lesbian couples, on the other side, exhibit a very traditional attire here, both formally and behaviorally these girls span/exhibit low interest in social intercourse outside the couple's range and can mostly be found at corners and edges. The mid and, god knows why, heterosexual bunch, inhabits the in-betweens. Here I've found simply tourist types, English collages and stranded hooligans (Manchester United especially), mid-milky and very uncertain boy groups and returners. Returners are those you have not met in forever and happen to meet again. This is the noisiest.

Sum'd up, best is the draft, vodka cocktails, which you can custom-order from the young-bold bartender my wife loves and some more exclusive touches I won't anticipate. Wine is present but, again, irrelevant. The local Nero sucks eggs. All in all the place is extremely enjoyable, lacking a few middle of the road, offering some cuban surprises, forcing sociality between foreigners like no other place and, by the way, music is never louder than the crowd.