M-whY

The most obvious indoor activity then would to be visiting the Hermitage. As its director once said, it may not be the number one museum in the world, but its certainly not the second. I managed to avoid the entrance queues by being a dumber foreigner and walking in the exit doors. Once inside, I just sort of merged into the ticket line. If I thought the building looked impressive from the outside, the rooms inside were even more stunning. Formerly a palace for Catherine the Great, the chambers and corridors outdid the exhibits themselves, if it's possible to overshadow Michaelangelo. The collection of works were diverse: Russian, French, Greek and Roman sculptures. Art by Picasso, Monet, and other greats would've been orgasmic for a sophisticated mind. Paintings and sculptures alone numbered 28,000; If you counted every single piece of treasue, the number would surpass three million. Enough to fill several rainy days.

I spent a good three hours getting lost in the elaborate halls. The city brags to have more individual attractions than Paris, and it boasts a fair share of other museums to choose from: The Russian Museum, The Peter and Paul Fortress Museum, etc. A more obscure alternative to these is the Erotic Museum. (At this point, you probably want to make sure your boss isn't looking over your shoulder before you click anymore pictures. Nothing obscene, just a bit unconventional.) Moscow may have the corpse of Lenin on display, but St Petersburg has Grigory Rasputin's penis. No, that's not a Freudian slip. Grigory Rasputin's penis. One of the most influential men during the reign of the last Russian tsar, Nicholas II, he was supposed to have supernatural powers or something, curing the tsar's son of an incurable disease. Legend has it he also had great sexual power; His 9 inch organ (when flaccid!) unquestionably would've made him popular with the ladies.

Western experts have claimed it's really just a sea cucumber. I don't know... It looks like a penis to me, pubic hairs and all. The establishment's credentials as a museum is just as debatable. It's actually part of the Prostate Center, where paintings of naked women, laughable toys, nurses in short skirts were all part of the clinic's character. They're supposed to make the patients more comfortable or something. When I arrived, I made it clear that I was here as a tourist, and that I didn't have any health problems they could help me with. "Entrance is free," explained the doctor. "We just ask you buy a souvenir." Fair enough, I bought a passport that identified me as a citizen of the Republic of Potence for 20 roubles. Which turned out to be one of those popout cards that popped out... well, if you really need a hint, go back and read this entry's first sentence.

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