La Dolce Vita - Extended Cut

[Momus]

Well, M signed off on my trip report and some photos, so here you go. Enjoy. If you have any specific questions or comments, I'll try to address them. Thanks again to the members of the community who helped me get to this point, and especially to M for agreeing to share our experiences in a public forum.

I’ll start with a little about myself -- I’ve disclosed most of this information previously, so this is a recap for those who might have missed some of my previous posts. I’m 39 years old, never married, no children. I’ve done a lot of dating in the last 25 years and have had a few long-term relationships. For different reasons at different times, I just never pulled the trigger and got married.

After my last relationship ended, I started doing some online dating (or at least tried to…I don’t consider it a positive experience). Early this year, I was contacted through a major US site by a Russian “woman” who turned out to be a scammer. I didn’t waste much time and managed to hold on to my wallet, and the experience piqued my interest in women from the former Soviet Union. I decided to find out if there were genuine and sincere ones out there, and my research eventually led me here and to a few other sites.

In July, I started contacting women. I chose Elena’s Models because it was a high-profile, popular site that had retained some measure of credibility. I also liked the fact that I could pay one flat fee for unlimited “expressions of interest” and up to 50 addresses (I chose the gold membership). That’s all I’ll have to say about the agency, except that I am satisfied both with the service and certainly the outcome.

When I got into this, I initially thought that I would take the “write many, visit many” approach. I know the importance of chemistry and was not eager to travel halfway around the world to meet a woman, only to realize within five minutes that there was no real attraction or spark. A couple of factors soon forced a change of plans to “write many, visit one.” First, Elena’s Models isn’t a great choice for WMVM, as it lists women from all over the FSU. Second, during the letter writing stage, I simply had trouble finding many women that I actually wanted to meet. And third, M just blew the rest of the field away. I realized fairly early on that I didn’t want to travel to the FSU to meet Russian women. I really just wanted to meet M.

So, what attracted me so strongly to M? I could write a separate report on that, but I’ll try to hit the highlights. Of course, her photos got my attention initially. They were professional, but very tasteful black & whites rather than the usual glamour shots. They were classy, elegant, and sophisticated, as well as beautiful and sexy. That’s a powerful combination. The basic characteristics of her profile were also immediately appealing: 30 years old, never married, no children, great education and career, fluent English. Her self-description and personal interests also reinforced my first impression of her as classy, elegant, and sophisticated. As I got to know her better, I learned that she was also intelligent, funny, warm, charming, sincere, independent, and confident in herself and what she wanted from life.

M and I exchanged emails every day. After a couple weeks of correspondence, we started speaking on the phone several times a week. Sometimes I would call her during my lunch hour, sometimes she would call me before I left for work in the morning. Our conversations were relaxed and comfortable. We always had plenty to talk about, and we made each other laugh. We had similar interests and seemed to want the same things in life. In short, we seemed like a good match.

Once M and I decided to meet, we moved pretty quickly. After several discussions, we decided to meet in Italy rather than Moscow. There were a number of reasons for this, but in large part M simply wanted to take a vacation in the autumn. She was willing to take a couple weeks off from work and meet me in Moscow, but she very much preferred to get out of the city and visit Western Europe. Given the choice between Russia and Italy in late September, early October, I readily agreed. And as I commented to M in Rome, only half-joking, this arrangement would allow us in the years ahead to say that we met while vacationing in Italy…

I should emphasize that M paid her own way on this trip. One of the reasons that third-country meetings are discouraged here is that few women will turn down a free vacation, even if they aren’t especially interested in the man footing the bill. That was never a concern, here: M made it clear from the beginning that she would be making her own travel arrangements. She also consistently and cheerfully offered to pay for many expenses during our trip, such as meals and cab fares, and she did so on many occasions. M has an excellent education, a great job, and a good lifestyle. I never asked for details, of course, but I suspect she has more disposable income than many of the women I have dated in the US. She has a credit card, though I never saw her use it. She was also able to obtain her Italian visa without difficulty. I’m sure her standard of living and previous travels in Europe played an important role in this.

This raises an issue that I should mention: I found that the cultural differences between us were much less significant than I had expected. Some posters here encourage others to look outside of Moscow because the women there have become “too Westernized.” Well, if you want to minimize cultural differences, and don’t generally despise Western women, I would certainly encourage you not to ignore the big city girls. I can attest that at least one of them is a real gem.

In any case, once we decided to meet in Italy, we made the arrangements as quickly as possible -- about two weeks from final decision to our meeting. One result of this is that we could not book rooms in the same hotel in Rome. I stayed at the Hotel XX Settembre in the northeast part of the center, near Termini station. This hotel would have been close to the hotel M originally intended to book, but that hotel had no rooms available by the time her travel agency got around to making the arrangements. As a result, M stayed at a very nice hotel about 15 minutes by taxi from the center. This turned out to be somewhat inconvenient, and we both spent more time and money than we might have preferred on taxis.

To be continued...

[Momus]

I arrived in Rome at about 3:00 pm on Saturday, September 23. M was to arrive at 8:00 pm, so I went to my hotel, checked in, took a shower, and changed clothes. I wanted to make a good first impression, of course, and I was grateful for the opportunity to recover and refresh after a long transatlantic flight.

My hotel was fresh and clean and in a good location for a very good price (by Roman standards, i.e., exorbitantly priced by American standards). It was also ridiculously small. My single room was considerably smaller than my dorm room in my freshman year of university. I could not even begin to unpack -- the best I could do is stack my suitcases sufficiently out of the way that I only rarely tripped over them. Then again, it was easy to avoid the luggage when I could essentially fall into bed from my doorway.

After refreshing myself, I walked down to Termini and grabbed a taxi to the airport. I could have saved some money and taken the train, but I didn’t have a lot of time and didn’t want to be late. Later, M gave me a bit of good-natured grief about how much money I was willing to spend to avoid the train…but she changed her tune by the end of our trip.

I arrived at the airport and located the terminal for M’s flight from Moscow. Shortly, Russians began to arrive at the meeting point. M had told me that she would be wearing a red business suit and I spotted her right away. The woman looks sensational in red, and she knows it. Her outfit, including a skirt that might have reached to mid-thigh, had been carefully selected for the impact she knew it would have. As is often the case with beautiful women, her photos didn’t do her justice. She was stunning, and as I would tell her later, incredibly close in terms of physical traits to my “dream girl” -- dark hair, fair skin, round face, large brown eyes, and the sexiest lips I have ever seen, to name just a few of her many attributes.

I can’t speak for M, but the physical chemistry was there for me from the first moment I saw her. I flashed her a smile, gave her a hug, and whispered something in her ear about how I was very glad to finally be able to meet her. After the first of many humorous disagreements about whether to take the train or a taxi, she relented and we went looking for a cab. The hour was getting somewhat late, and I think we both wanted to spend that first evening in the streets of Rome, and convenience triumphed over economy.

We went to her hotel, and I waited while she checked in and changed her clothes. It was the last I ever saw of the red suit, and that is perhaps the only regret I have about the entire experience. Of course, she was beautiful in everything she wore, and that eases my regret.

We left her hotel, and instead of calling a taxi to take us to the center, we walked. And walked. And walked some more. We didn’t really know where we were going, and it wasn’t easy to navigate the residential neighborhood in which her hotel was located. As I recall, after an hour or so, we were able to hail a taxi on the street. We had a quick dinner and spent the rest of the evening walking arm-in-arm and hand-in-hand through the streets of Rome’s historical center. We were comfortable together from the beginning. We talked and laughed easily, and I finished the evening very confident that we had a spark.

At the end of the night, I walked her up to her room while our taxi waited for me outside the hotel. I said goodnight and moved in for a kiss…and got The Cheek.

Yes, that’s right, as I tried to kiss her, she turned her head and I kissed her cheek instead of my intended target. I don’t think this had happened to me since high school. I was so stunned I assumed it was just an awkward moment, so I moved in again…and got The Other Cheek. I smiled and made some kind of weak joke about it, then beat a hasty retreat.

In the taxi on the way back to my hotel, my mind was racing. I had been sure we had chemistry. Up until the moment when I got The Cheek, the level of physical contact and intimacy had been entirely appropriate for a first meeting between two people who were attracted to each other. In my experience, though, there was no way to rationalize The Cheek as a good sign. I’ve been dating for a long time, and if there isn’t a goodnight kiss, it means that one or both are not interested in a second date. Period. I really can’t think of an exception. I guess where I come from, it’s a rule. A handshake or hug means “Thanks for a nice time, but no need to call.” And The Cheek means…well, if I remember correctly, it means something like “Cool your jets, Romeo, you’ve got no chance.”

Well, I was concerned, but if I’m honest I wasn’t really shocked. I had known I was taking a chance -- I’d certainly read enough similar stories here to know that this could happen. Sometimes, even if two people like each other, it just isn’t there. Lying in bed, I let the evening play out in my head, trying to assess everything, struggling neither to delude myself nor to be excessively paranoid. I considered her description of herself as a traditional and well-bred woman. But I also considered all of the advice here that if a Russian woman likes you, she’ll show you in no uncertain terms.

In “Say Anything,” the great John Cusack is struggling to explain his plans for the future to his girlfriend’s father. Eventually, he says something like, “I don’t know, sir, I can’t figure it all out tonight. I just want to hang with your daughter.” I finally allowed myself to embrace this wise, Zen-like philosophy and see how things developed the following day. I slept well and my dreams were untroubled.

To be continued...

[Momus]

The next morning, we met at M’s hotel and went sightseeing. We visited some of the plazas and monuments around the center, and then went to see the Coliseum. Both M and I were pleasantly surprised to find that admission was free that day because of some government-sponsored cultural initiative (later in the week, we would enjoy the same surprise at the Vatican Museum); a few more Euros saved for Rome’s cab drivers. I really appreciated the opportunity to see this legendary remnant of an ancient culture, but as with all such places, there’s a limit to how much time you can spend on it unless you’re a real history or architecture buff. You look around, nod thoughtfully, snap some photos, and then you’re ready to move on.

Having said this, I think I was more impressed than M, though like me she was glad to have seen it. She summed it up with a wonderfully innocent shrug, saying with her delightful Russian accent and inflection, “It is stones.”

We spent the rest of the day and that evening with no particular plan or destination, just wandering around the city and getting to know each other. It was wonderful, and by the end of that day, I had convinced myself not to read too much into the previous night’s encounter with The Cheek. I decided to relax and let things develop as they would. That night when I left her at her hotel room, I made light of it. I hugged her and said, “Okay, give me that cheek.” I gave her a peck and a squeeze, and then left.

The next day was devoted to shopping. M had requested before our trip that we reserve one day for shopping. She has a sense of style and good taste, and doesn’t like the inflated prices she has to pay for good clothing in Moscow. She had done her research and found an outlet mall on the outskirts of Rome. We picked a good day for it: a lot of the attractions in Rome are closed on Monday, and it was raining. I was actually looking forward to it: history, art, and culture are all great, of course, but I guess if I were forced to choose, I’d just as soon spend a day watching M try on clothes.

There weren’t as many stores at the outlet mall as M expected, and the selection wasn’t always very good. Nevertheless, she bought three pairs of shoes from her favorite designer, a couple shirts, and a nice outfit from Valentino. I told her I wanted to buy one of the shirts for her as a gift. She gave me a big smile and said something like, “Oh, Momus, I couldn’t possibly allow it” in a way that made it very clear that she could, if I insisted. It was so cute and so guilelessly transparent that I burst out laughing, rolled my eyes, and teased her about it relentlessly. She was a good sport and laughed about it as well.

In any case, she was genuinely delighted with this small gift, and we both enjoyed the shopping excursion a great deal. This was fortunate, as the plan to reserve only one day for shopping never really had a chance. It would be more accurate to say that a few hours of every day were reserved for shopping…

That night, I kissed M on the lips for the first time. It was not a deep or passionate kiss, but it was nice and it was progress. In my typical reserved and serious fashion, I told her, “Mmm…progress.” From that point on, things developed naturally. And that’s all I have to say about that.

The following day, we went to the Vatican. We took some photos in St. Peter’s Square, and then took our place in a very long line that we assumed would take us to the museums. Well, it turned out that this line was to climb up to the top of the cupola of St. Peter’s Basilica…all 350 steps or so, assuming you pay the extra fee to ride the elevator part way up. When we finally reached the top, it was worth it. The view would have been breathtaking if we’d had any breath left to take.

It’s becoming clear that this trip report will be way too long if I continue giving the daily highlights of our time in Rome…probably no one really cares about our tourist activities anyway. To make a long story short, we saw a small fraction of what the city has to offer, and more importantly, we had a wonderful time together. On Friday, September 29, we left Rome and headed to Capri.

To be continued...

[Momus]

The train ride from Rome to Naples took about an hour and a half. We took a taxi from the train station to the port. During the ride, I was reminded of Dustin Hoffman’s comment in “Little Big Man” on seeing an Indian camp for the first time: “I see their dump. Where’s their camp?” I’m sure there are nice parts of Naples, but I must assume they are far away from the harbor district. I left M with the luggage and went to buy tickets. Upon my return, we started looking for our boat.

Now, I don’t read or speak Italian, so I can’t be too critical. But, damn, the Italians could certainly make things easier. The tickets didn’t say what dock the boat was at. The docks weren’t all clearly identified. We asked around and managed to find a couple of guys who gave us conflicting information. I was hot, tired, and getting very sick of dragging luggage from one end of the dock to another. Eventually, we discovered that our boat had left, probably before we even bought the ticket -- I say “ticket” because it turned out that the ticket guy gave me only one, rather than the two I requested. Anyway, M let me rest while she exchanged our ticket for two on a later boat. We found this one, though not at the dock it was supposed to be at. The boat ride to Capri took about 45 minutes and was reasonably pleasant, except that I had to drag all of our luggage through the narrow isles to the very front of the boat.

Capri is stunning. It’s very rugged and rocky, like a mountain rising out of the sea…which, I suppose, is precisely what it is. We grabbed a taxi to our hotel (we were staying in the same one this time) and the taxi driver commented on all the luggage, assuming that most of it was M’s. In truth, I had three suitcases plus a shoulder tote, while M had just one large and efficiently packed suitcase. I tried to correct the driver’s mistake, but I don’t think he believed me.

During the ride, the driver asked where we were from. I told him I was from the US, and M said, “Yes, we are from the US.” The driver smiled and shook his head, and said, “No…Russian?” I asked how he knew, and he said that she looked Russian. I was surprised, because I don’t think M has especially Slavic features. Anyway, Capri apparently gets a lot of Russian tourists. Many of the hotel staff were also from Eastern Europe; one of the bartenders was Czech, and M assured me that many of the housekeeping staff were Russian. There were also at least a couple of different groups of Russians staying at the hotel while we were there.

The hotel was great. We stayed at the Weber Ambassador, and I strongly recommend it if you ever visit Capri. The customer service in Rome was generally terrible, but the entire staff at the hotel in Capri was very friendly, helpful, and enthusiastic. The hotel itself is open, airy, and clean; the rooms were large (by European standards), and M’s had a wonderful sea view (mine had a “mountain view,” which turned out to be a sort of tiny patio in a kind of rectangular well; I guess “mountain view” actually means “no view”). There was a large lobby with a bar, a grand piano, and a reasonably competent piano player. There was a swimming pool, and it was only a short walk (well, climb) down the mountainside to the beach. Of course, the rugged beauty of Capri comes with a price: the beaches are rocky, not sandy, but I think this is a small price to pay (along with 10 euros each for beach chairs) for the scenery.

Rome had been all about sightseeing; in Capri, it was all about simply spending time together in a beautiful setting, whether lounging around the hotel, at the pool, on the beach, or in a café or restaurant in the town. Capri itself is definitely a high-end tourist town, full of shops bearing names such as Prada, Gucci, Valentino, Dolce & Gabbana, Versace, etc. In other words, there was still ample opportunity for shopping, though the prices were quite high and M made only a few small purchases, mostly gifts for those back home.

The logistics of the hotel situation in Rome had made changing clothes difficult; in Capri, one of the things I most enjoyed is that we were able to dress for dinner. I’d brought a black suit, along with several shirts and ties, for just such occasions, and I was happy for the opportunity to use them. We looked good together, and we both enjoyed the looks and attention we received. For my part, though, I especially liked the fact that M would actually tell me when she was impressed, showering me with compliments such as “It is perfect” and “It is ‘wow!’” I think if American women took a similar approach, rather than just nagging their boyfriends and husbands about their crappy clothes, American men might actually still care about how they dressed. Of course, for me, the best part about these nights on the town was seeing M dressed to the nines. She was beautiful, and I enjoyed telling her so.

We had a couple of misunderstandings and disagreements during our week in Capri. I found M to be quick to forgive and eager to be forgiven, both traits that I value very highly, especially in someone I want to have a relationship with. One time, we were sitting at a café in the square. M said something and made some small misstep with her English (I don’t even remember now what it was). I corrected her, and I suspect she thought I was teasing her, or evaluating her language skills rather than really listening to her. She got very angry; she didn’t say anything, but it was very clear from the look on her face. I suspect that M’s temper is somewhat like Vesuvius (which we never got around to seeing): rarely awakening, but terrible and awesome in its fury when it does. I’m much the same. It’s a simple fact of life that if our relationship is successful, we will have arguments. I expect we will be capable of some truly epic ones. In any case, she was willing to talk through it and readily accepted my apology. The tempest passed quickly, and what could have been a “red flag” I now look back on as a very encouraging experience.

The week passed all too quickly, and we both tried very hard to simply enjoy the time we had together and not think about our looming departure. On Saturday, October 7, we left Capri and took the train back to Rome. We had some time and decided to eat at an American style roadhouse grill in the station. First, the waitress brought peanuts (complete with bucket for discarding shells) and tortilla chips. We both ordered cheeseburgers -- I had fries and M had a baked potato. After finishing the meal, M groaned and complained that she didn’t understand how Americans could eat like that every day. I said, “Well, now you know why so many Americans are fat.”

From Termini, I agreed to skip the taxi and take the train to the airport. We had a lot of luggage (and shopping bags), our train was on the other end of the station, and it was a major pain in the ass. By the time we reached the airport, M agreed that the taxi would have been worth the money. I teased M that she would easily adjust to the American love affair with comfort and convenience. She allowed that, yes, she was a good student and a quick learner.

My flight was to leave at 9:00 pm and M’s would follow a couple hours later. I checked in and got my boarding pass, and then we went to M’s terminal. No one was manning the Aeroflot ticket counter yet, so we just stood there, holding each other, kissing, and generally ignoring the other early-arriving Russian travelers standing around us. We didn’t talk much, as there wasn’t really anything to say.

All too quickly, the time came when I needed to get through security and find my gate. I hugged her, and kissed her, and looked into her eyes, trying to memorize every detail of her face. Then I let her go and walked away without looking back.

I’m not one to throw the “L” word around lightly. As I explained to M in an email from the airport in Amsterdam, if you use it without being sure of your feelings, and without letting those feelings mature and put down roots in shared life experience, it’s just a word. I didn’t use the “L” word at the airport, but I felt it. Maybe just the early, untested stages of it, but I felt it. It seemed very unnatural to leave M there without telling her what I was feeling, but I just didn’t know what to say. I think she knew…if not, I hope she does now.

By the end of our stay in Italy, we were both very sure about each other and about our desire to continue the relationship and let it develop. We both feel that we were very lucky that we found each other. We discussed our feelings and our hopes for the future openly and honestly. I removed my profile from the website at the airport in Amsterdam. M removed hers on Monday. Our plan was originally to meet again in February. I don’t think I can wait that long, though, and so I am thinking of a brief visit to Moscow in December.

The waiting, of course, will be the hardest part. It is difficult to spend every day with someone, to become very close in a short period of time, and then find yourself half a world away again. It also brings the difference between correspondence by email and phone and spending time together in person into sharp relief. Don’t kid yourself: emails and phone calls just do not and cannot compare.

In other words, my advice to those who haven’t done so yet is to stop writing letters and get on the plane.

And I guess that’s the end of my story, or at least the first chapter of it. I hope there will be many more chapters to come.

[Momus]

I'll wrap this up with a couple more photos. This one I offer as proof of my contention that the photographer of the first picture I posted in the other thread is better looking than I am. 

[Momus]

And this one is perhaps my favorite photo of all those we took in Italy. There are no monuments or ruins in the background -- I took it myself on the bus in Anacapris. There's no posing and it's probably not the most flattering for either of us. I love the picture because it was spontaneous, entirely unselfconscious, and meant only to capture an ordinary moment in our time together. It is one of M's favorites as well.

[BillyB]

Momus,

Great trip report and photos. A pic says a thousand words and there's no doubt in my mind that you two are happy with each other. Even though you made risky moves with the "visit one" approach in a different country, I think with the everyday correspondence you had with M, you were able to make a better decision than most guys. That's why I advocate learning in depth about a woman before one visits. If the woman is into you, she will want to learn about you too through letters and phone calls.

Best wishes to both of you.

[groovlstk]

Momus,

Thanks for a great TR and congrats on your success. You bucked long odds!

I will be in Moscow sometime in December, also. If our trips coincide the first cold Baltika is on me...

[KenC]

Momus,
Thanks for sharing your trip with us.  You did very well and seem to be making very good decisions.  The emails and phone calls will help you two learn much more about each other now that you have met.  Prior to meeting, it is too much like a fantasy and some people's imagination gets the better of them.  Now, they will just help you learn more about each other.  Nice report-just enough information without being too much.  Good luck to you.
KenC

[SANDRO43]

Momus, when you'll both return to Rome to celebrate the anniversary of your first meeting, may I suggest you book into this hotel (pale-yellow building in the photo) :

http://www.hotelforumrome.com/

It's 4 stars and expensive, but with a splendid view over the Forum (hence its name) and its restaurant has an open-air section on the top floor (very enjoyable April to October). Rooms are not VERY large and their furniture is NOT modern (which I personally prefer). I went there (if my ever-varying company policy allowed it) several times on my trips to Rome and was always satisfied.

Congratulations, it all sounded more like William Wyler's Vacanze Romane than F. Fellini's La Dolce Vita .

[Momus]

Thanks for the kind words, all, and thanks for the hotel tip, Sandro. You're right that our trip was probably closer to "Roman Holiday." I even thought about renting a scooter while I was there...until I saw first-hand how Romans drive.

And I'm sure M would appreciate any comparisons both to a European princess and to Audrey Hepburn. 

[PeeWee]

A wonderful report along with some wonderful photos. Well done, lad.

Peevee

[PeeWee]

Momus,

Great trip report and photos. A pic says a thousand words and there's no doubt in my mind that you two are happy with each other. Even though you made risky moves with the "visit one" approach in a different country, I think with the everyday correspondence you had with M, you were able to make a better decision than most guys. That's why I advocate learning in depth about a woman before one visits. If the woman is into you, she will want to learn about you too through letters and phone calls.

Best wishes to both of you.

Risky moves are not so risky if one prepares properly before hand. My experience in Cairo one month prior to Mo netted me the same results as he. At no time prior to my arrival in Cairo did I feel anything but positive about my decision to meet there.

Mo is a smart guy. I think he knows how to minimize his risks very well.

Peewee

[SANDRO43]

and thanks for the hotel tip

I did not recommend it for your first stay there because, as you can see, there's a church right beside it. Might have been a dangerous temptation, considering your ebullient mood .

[Momus]

I did not recommend it for your first stay there because, as you can see, there's a church right beside it. Might have been a dangerous temptation, considering your ebullient mood .

Sandro, I do not believe that it's possible to find a hotel in Rome that is not next to at least one church. In fact, I don't think it's possible to find anything in Rome that isn't next to a church.

[SANDRO43]

In fact, I don't think it's possible to find anything in Rome that isn't next to a church.

Well, Momus, you may have noticed that the Colosseum is not too crowded in by churches but, apart from that, you're almost right. And OVER a church : when they dig for anything there, it's either Roman ruins or early church ruins. I think it took them some 30+ years to complete their first Metro line .

[Momus]

I don't know, Sandro. It's like a game: see if you can count all the churches in the background. 

[SANDRO43]

I don't know, Sandro. It's like a game: see if you can count all the churches in the background

Foul, foul, you must have used a tele lens, the map clearly shows no churches (black crosses) with 200 mts of the Colosseo

[Albert]

I don't know, Sandro. It's like a game: see if you can count all the churches in the background. 

- - - -

My, My Momus.  The topic of churches in Rome are more relevant than sex with FSU women.  Well, if that is your preference.

[Momus]

- - - -

My, My Momus.  The topic of churches in Rome are more relevant than sex with FSU women.  Well, if that is your preference.

No, the topic of churches in Rome was more relevant than sex with FSU women to my trip report.

Wait...that sounds bad.

Anyway, Albert, if you will allow me to joke with Sandro in my trip report thread, I will promise not to liberally sprinkle my discussions of Roman churches throughout the entire forum. Sound okay?

[Albert]

You can have peace if you want it.  Just remember who cast the first stone.

[Momus]

You can have peace if you want it.

I didn't realize we were at war, but thanks for the offer. 

Here is another photo to calm the nerves, soothe the soul, and bring us back on topic. No churches.

[Bruno]

You can have peace if you want it.  Just remember who cast the first stone.

Funny, is it your method to shutdown people who don't agree with you in other topic !!!