The Russian Banya

Visited the Kazan Cathedral this afternoon and lighted some candles for good luck. Saw great modern art in the Russian Museum and could not find the "Soviet Art" because my Lonely Planet from the library is hopelessly out of date.
The Hermitage Museum was overwhelming; I have never been in a museum that big. It is housed in what they call the Winter Palace, and it takes up an entire square block, lining the streets with huge white ivory decorations and mint green paint.
Last night, after the college kids from the volunteer program (who I met up with on Saturday) left to go back to Yaroslevl, I finally cut loose a bit. We did celebrate St. Patty's Day over pints in an Irish bar, but of course I have been dying for vodka and found some good stuff at a local cafe.
After that, I wanted to go to a banya. Hopped in a taxi and when we got there it was closed. Of course the taxi driver had a friend who had a banya.
Stripped down, wrapped myself in a sheet, wondered why I was not given branches to beat myself with (that is the traditional banya experience) and was grateful when the man in charge offered use of the lukewarm pool instead of the ice cold one that is traditional.
The steam room was not unbearable and dipping into the pool was really nice.
He offered a massage, which I accepted, which was very unexpected, a bit more personal than I might have originally planned for, and which doubled the price. (My only complaint about St. Petersburg -- the prices can inflate up to 10 times the normal amount once the merchant realizes you're a tourist. They basically rise up to Western prices, which accounts for the 500 ruble taxi drive I took from the train station that I later learned should have cost only 100 rubles.) Of course he offered a ride home, playing taxi, and spoke with sadness about his hometown of Lebanon and how he wants a wife and cannot find a "nice girl" here in Russia. He spoke decent English and said, "They only want money."
"In America, too," I said.
"Dah, everywhere girls want money," he said, looking very tired.
Then he asked me for my phone number.
Tonight, it's the overnight train to Moscow.