Almost three months here and I’m getting through my to-be-done-in-Russia list. Copious amounts of cabbage.  Tick.  Intravenous vodka.  Tick.  Find the bear for my fur coat.  Tick. 

The next thing on my list was to find a sport to keep me going through the Siberian winter.  Ballet seemed the logical choice in a country that churns out hundreds of internationally acclaimed dancers.  Every second square inch of wall has some form advertisement for a dance school, none of them offered this more classical of forms.  When I eventually did find a class, I discovered that the Russian definition of ‘beginner’s ballet’ is for those who have been dancing since they were five, but are not quite old enough to be professionals. There was no option but to try out the most popular dance here in Irkutsk, that which stands proud of place on every advert all over town: Strip Plastika. None of the westerners here had heard of it before, so all in the name of research, it was time for a lesson. I walked into the first dance school I came across and had a look at the timetable – Strip Plastika was on 8 times a week. Perfect.

I arrived at my class slightly flushed, partly due to the -15°C outside, but mostly due to the imminent humiliation. Off came my coat and we were straight into bending, grinding, wiggling, twisting and contorting: Strip Plastika, it gradually dawned on me, is striptease minus the stripping bit. It was at this point that I realised where all the young Russian women had learnt the extraordinary, if slightly vulgar, moves that they so expertly flaunt on the nightclub dance floors.

Having made enough of a fool of myself trying to keep up with the routine, I then became aware of the rather bigger faux pas I’d made – somehow I’d not quite understood the dress code.  While getting ready, a little naively, I had thought it would be passable to wear my plain black tracksuit bottoms. My teacher’s electric pink, lycra, flared trousers and four inch cerise high-heels indicated otherwise. I did not have long to think about it though, as she was quick to explain that she preferred all her students to be in short-short mini-skirts, and gestured to the example being set by the only other girl who had turned up for the session.

For future reference, you should know that the only crucial piece of kit for Strip Plastika is a red trilby hat. Apparently, it is absolutely necessary to accentuate the movements of your body. How exactly it does this? I am not sure and unfortunately, I will never find out as just the one class was enough to satisfy my interest in Strip Plastika. Instead, I take my hat off to those Russian girls strutting their stuff in the nightclubs of Irkutsk; it’s not as easy as at first it may seem. Maybe one of the town’s other dance specialities could suit me better, and there is no shortage of choice. It’s time to try Tecktonik, Ragga-Jam, C-Walk, Funk Styles and Waacking for size...