What is it with this country and preserving things?

About half of the ACTR group ended up at the big hockey game last Saturday—that would be St. Petersburg’s own “SKA” (I have absolutely no idea what that name means, unless maybe it’s a tribute to the city’s ongoing love affair with upbeat, Jamaica-based, horn-augmented music) versus Moscow’s “Dinamo.” I split my attention between the actual game and a group of guys sitting a few rows down from us who kept shouting various inspirational chants. This wasn’t just any group of rowdy, drunken fans: they had, apparently, rehearsed each cheer quite thoroughly, complete with rudimentary choreography. To see a dozen or so full-grown men chanting “SKA! Sankt! Peter! Burg! SKA Sankt-Peterburg! Hey!” while waving their arms and clapping in perfect unison was an entertaining enough sight, but then, towards the end of the game, they all lit up blindingly bright flare sticks. The final score? 2-1, SKA. Take that, Moscow!
I finally made it to Kunstkamera. This would be St. Petersburg’s first museum, founded by Peter the Great himself in an effort to get his new city educated. The actual educational value of the museum is dubious at best. There are various exhibits on the different peoples of the world (I can only assume the museum decided to keep these up in tribute to Peter the Great’s rampant Orientalism) but the main attraction is the Hall of Anatomical Rarities. This is a collection that Peter the Great bought from a European doctor/trainer of midwives who, thanks to his profession, had no shortage of anatomical rarities to preserve in his "special mixture of brandy and spices.” What kind of rarities, you ask? Let’s just say it’ll be a good long while before I tell or laugh at a dead baby joke again. The weirdest thing I saw was not the two-headed babies, nor the ones with enormous brain hemorrhages, nor the ones with fused legs and no arms. No, it was a man and a woman ambling around the room hand in hand, gazing adoringly at one another. In a town full of gorgeous art, cute little cafes, amazing views and myriad places to get married, who the hell takes their date to the Big Room O’ Deformed Babies In Jars? OK, maybe that’s exactly the kind of thing I would do, but that’s beside the point.