And disapprove they would’ve: Khajuraho’s temples are dominated by erotica, a Kama Sutra made stone, carved in a frenzy of artistic aphrodisia from 950 to 1050 AD. Seductive apsaras (heavenly nymphs), couples copulating in athletic poses, full-on orgies, a little bestiality…all are reproduced in sandstone. Why, no one quite knows, but it seems this ancient civilisation was extremely comfortable with its sexuality. He’s around 400 years old, 55m tall and carries a 37m-long club – but it’s his, er, other weapon that grabs the attention. His body is outlined by a trench cut through the grass to the chalk below, so he needs regular maintenance – rock replacement and a bit of weeding. It also means he’s easy to alter – scientists think he once carried a cloak, now overgrown, while the puritanical Victorians let the grass grow over his manhood. Today’s party atmosphere belies more troubled roots – Sydney’s first such march for homosexual rights in 1978 ended in police violence. It’s a sign of the increasingly liberated times that now people of all persuasions – and in any state of feathered dress or political T-shirt – can get together for a raucously ‘peaceful’ knees-up. He peed on religious pictures, drank, womanised and generally acted scandalously until his death in 1529. But there was method behind this Madman – he used outrageousness to better teach Buddhism to the people. His subduing of the Dochu La demoness by use of his ‘magic thunderbolt’ has particularly captured the Bhutanese imagination: many houses are decorated with Kunley’s ‘flying phallus’ to ward off evil. At Chimi Lhakhang, a remote monastery dedicated to the saint, childless women visit in the hope that some of the Madman’s virility might rub off. It can be slippery after rain; the best time to visit is spring/autumn. The infamous nightspot first opened its doors in 1889 in the seedy district of Pigalle; here, low-lifes fraternised with arty types, and the emphasis was on creativity and fun. It was under the Moulin Rouge’s namesake red windmill that the can-can was first kicked, a dance through which courtesans could seduce by showing acrobatic acumen and a bit of skin. Today it’s all a little less debauched – showgirls dance to dining tourists. Those in need of an immodesty fix should try the Musée de l’erotisme next door. Now the celebration is open to all but the easily offended – a 2. The ancient Romans had a more liberal sexual outlook than the archaeologists digging them up; their frescoes were racy, their statues prurient. So what were respectable 18th-century men to do with all this naughtiness. Variously open, closed, then bricked up altogether, it was only in 2000 that it became properly accessible, and its secrets – terracotta penises, a stone satyr making love to a goat – finally revealed. But due to lack of support from the city (he wasn’t allowed to write the symbol for ‘sex’ on his sign, for starters), Dalin moved his chastity belts and lascivious landscape paintings to the town of Tongli. Now, his 1200 artefacts are back on show, with the addition of a saucy statue garden, where sexuality and shrubbery combine. Plus around 250 windows where ladies in undies display their wares. It’s a curious mix of scenic and seedy, and the best place to get an insight is the Prostitution Information Centre, from where an ex sex-worker leads eye-opening tours. It’s not easy: this museum of penises is a phallologist’s fantasy, containing specimens from almost all of Iceland’s native species, plus some foreign extras. Museum founder Sigurður Hjartarson, who’s been collecting since 1974, has accrued appendages from sperm whales (1. But most Icelandic of all is the folkloric section – in a nation where much of the population admits to believing in ‘hidden people’, it’s good to see elves’ on the shelves. Kama Sutra