A Night of Drinking That Left Me Whipped

England has Charles Dickens. Russia has Leo Tolstoy. Spain has Miguel de Cervantes. And what about the Ukraine? They've got Lviv writer Leopold Ritter von Sacher-Masoch. Doesn't ring a bell? Then maybe you've heard of his book "Venus in Furs." Yeah, that's what I thought. But in case you stopped reading after the Hardy Boys, all you need to know is that the word "masochism" is derived from this guy's last name.

Today, the city of Lviv pays homage to its favorite freaky son with the Masoch Café, a restaurant and bar with a good incentive to pay your tab -- the waitresses carry around whips. Actually, they don't even need a reason to make like Indiana Jones, which I learned about five minutes into my first drink. Crack! That'll wake you up faster than a Red Bull-spiked coffee. Below left is a photo taken right before I got my first lashing, but then my friend got the great idea to videotape me, and the waitress insisted I stand up before the entire café for the eight or so cracks across the back. Like a dutiful slave, I obliged. And apparently I giggled like a goober the entire time.

The waitresses are also happy to handcuff you and do something painful-looking with clothespins, but the real masochism comes in some of the menu items. Bull's testicles in oil and sweet pepper sauce? It'll take a lot more than eight lashes before I insert a bull ball between these chompers.

In reality, the Masoch Café is a fascinating and unique dining experience that I actually enjoyed, but ironically I almost didn't go. I first heard about the place from an Italian guy at the Lviv hostel, but there was a significant language breakdown when he described the place to me. I was down with the whips and cuffs, but then my confused friend wrongly said the author's name is the basis for the "mizer" in sodomizer. Sorry Zed, but not so down with that.

It took a few days, but I finally realized my friend got his S&Ms wrong. With all that straightened out, I headed off for a crackin' good time -- ironically enough -- on the night of Ukrainian Independence Day. My spirit was free indeed!