Trip Report, Moscow April 30-May 7. Finally, I got it right

[groovlstk]

Background

A little background is in order, here. Briefly, I've been searching for a woman from Russia or Ukraine for several years, got burned plenty of times, committed a lot of mistakes, made an ass of myself numerous times. The usual.

I've written a few TRs before, not for all my trips but for the experiences that I thought would be useful, or at least entertaining, to other guys searching:

http://www.russianwomendiscussion.com/index.php?topic=446.0
http://www.russianwomendiscussion.com/index.php?topic=490.0

http://www.russianwomendiscussion.com/index.php?topic=670.0

http://www.russianwomendiscussion.com/index.php?topic=912.0

For the last month, I've been dating Russian women living in the US. However, before I found a source for tapping into the Russian female expat community here, I'd booked a trip to Moscow to visit a woman I'd been corresponding and chatting with daily for the last four months. In the weeks before my departure for Moscow, I began to regret spending so much cash and precious vacation days on another wild goose chase. Why bother flying to Moscow when I could meet Russian girls here in the US? In my view, the Russian girls here presented a much safer, less expensive alternative. Most arrived in the US on K1s and married American men, only to divorce years later. Sure most probably have baggage, but who doesn't? I've seen some men here criticize available Russian women living here, preferring instead "unspoiled" women who've never been to the US. C'mon, man: Do you really think that you can bring an "unspoiled" woman here and, through your wisdom and guidance, prevent her from becoming Americanized? Pfft.

The woman I planned to meet, Irina, was the youngest FSU girl I've ever dated. She's 26, I'm 42. In the past, I discounted women in their 20s as too immature. But I'd come to know her well before I made plans to meet her. She works as an interior designer for the largest furniture store in Europe (I was there, it makes IKEA look like a bodega), owns her own 2BR flat just outside the center of Moscow, has a car and credit cards, and in June she'll earn her 2nd university degree. What intrigued me about her, besides her beauty, sense of humor, and intelligence, was that she has a good life and doesn't need me for material support or for the promise of an easier life.

Days 1-2

I departed Newark for Moscow on Saturday afternoon. I'd reserved a window seat and had to toss a German squatter out of my seat. Sorry, Wolfgang. We all need goals in life, and my goals on flights to Europe are to sleep as much as possible (with the help of any and all available pharmaceuticals), and to not have to get out of my seat to pee. I'd exhausted my Ambien supply on my last trip so I didn't get a moment's sleep, but as difficult as it was I knew it wouldn't affect me when I arrived in Moscow. And I made it through the flight without peeing, so there.

In Frankfurt, I hooked up with my flight to Moscow. The Russian guy next to me whipped out a pint bottle of Jameson's and shared it with his pals before offering me a shooter. The Russian stewardess… ahem, Flight Attendant, came by and cautioned him to keep it under wraps. If that had happened on a domestic US flight, the guy would probably have been arrested by an Air Marshall and sent to Gitmo.

We arrived on time in Moscow, but when I exited customs I didn't see Irina, who'd agreed to meet me. Numerous taxi drivers piled on, recognizing me as a foreigner. Ten minutes later I saw her arrive, more beautiful than I ever dreamed of… but late! (Irina is a 3 on a scale of 5 in English. Turns out my arrival time of 12:15 was interpreted as 12:50. Thank God she was early.) After a brief hug, she led me to a bus. After seven trips to the FSU in the past year, I was in budget mode and Irina was more than happy to accommodate me. We took the bus to the stop nearest my flat, which was a block away from the Belaruskaya metro station. Irina had secured this flat for me, it had all the amenities I wanted (full kitchen + washing machine) and set me back $75 per night. She told me that the owner tried to jack the price up a few days before my arrival but that she was "sharp" with the owner, who'd backed down.

After a quick shower I was ready for action. Irina had bought along some groceries and prepared a quick meal for us. Before my trip, she often chastised me when, after asking what I had for lunch or dinner on any given day, I told her I'd had a sandwich. For some reason, she had this idea in her head that sandwiches were very unhealthy. I tried to explain to her that it's possible to make a very healthy sandwich--lean turkey, plenty of veggies, mustard or horseradish, little or no cheese or mayo, but still she refused to give in. Now as I surveyed our dinner table, I smugly noted that she'd laid out a plate of sliced ham, white bread, some veggies, and sour cream. I triumphantly pointed out that she had all the ingredients for a perfect sandwich! I figured even Marsha Clarke couldn't lose this argument, but I was wrong. Somehow my logic failed to convince her, and to this day we remain intractably locked in the sandwich debate. Just a hunch, but I don't think I'll win this one.

My kitchen window overlooked an outdoor hockey rink, which I took as a good omen. Unfortunately, during my week there, I observed kids playing soccer, basketball, even badminton--but no hockey!

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/hockey.jpg

At about 3PM, we took the metro to old Arbat and spent the afternoon and evening strolling along the cobblestone street. It was by far the best first date of my life. Irina wore a pair of low-slung jeans, showing off her perfectly flat stomach and awesome figure. She's easily a 9, and even in Moscow she elicited a lot of stares from local men. We held hands and talked, everything was perfectly natural and we had no problems communicating. She has a wonderful sense of humor and I had her laughing at every turn. Never in my wildest dreams did I think we'd hit it off so well. I suppose my trips and experiences with agency girls had left me a bit jaded. But Irina is not listed on any agency or personals site, our relationship began as a cautious friendship and evolved into romance, and her attitude and demeanor were so refreshing. I was sold. I had a sketchy backup plan, a few phone numbers and promises, but at this point I tossed it wayside.

As the sun began to fade, we had dinner at a café on Arbat. On our way back to the metro station, Irina suddenly clutched her tummy and asked me to stop. She ran back to the café and disappeared inside while I waited outside, scratching my head. She emerged ten minutes later and explained that she'd blown her groceries. I was up for a few words with the café manager regarding the quality of their salmon, but Irina explained to me that it wasn't the food and we walked back to the metro. Something had changed… and when we arrived back at my flat, Irina gave me a quick peck on the cheek and then went home. She agreed to meet me the next morning.

Belasurskaya metro station:
http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/metro.jpg

I was slightly bummed that a great first date had ended on a strange note, but I wasn't tired even though I hadn't slept in about 40 hours, so I went for a walk around my neighborhood. I crashed around midnight and, as always when I travel to the FSU, I desperately tried to hold on to every moment and slow time down because I knew from past experience it would blow by like an express train.

[catzenmouse]

groovlstk,

 You're killing me... don't leave us hangin' too long 'k?

[PeeWee]

groovlstk,

 You're killing me... don't leave us hangin' too long 'k?

True.  Man, if she had a car what are you doing on a bus and the Metro?

Peewee

[groovlstk]

Funny enough, we never used her car even once. Moscow has a huge traffic problem, particularly in the last few years as the number of cars has swelled. The metro is the fastest and easiest way to get around Moscow. I was impressed by the beauty of the stations and the reliability of the trains. We never waited longer than a minute or two.

I also took a few elektrichka and marshrutka rides.

[wendaaaal]

Good idea staying out of the car, groov. Neither of you would be at your best driving around the Garden Ring. She'd likely be cussing a blue streak at the other wanna be F1 drivers  :seething:, and you'd be holding on for dear life wondering "what the hell am I doing here"   :hairraising:. It's to her credit she's more than happy to take public transportation. Great report, looking forward to the rest of it!

[groovlstk]

Day 3

I woke up the next morning at around 9, refreshed and ready to resume my adventure. Irina phoned me around 10, just as I was getting antsy. She explained to me that she was feeling many conflicting emotions, and that she needed some time alone before she met me. I was puzzled and mildly ticked off, and asked her when she would be ready to meet. She told me 7PM, and I was aghast. Did she expect me to sit around and stare at the walls all morning and afternoon while I waited for her? I told her to forget it, that I was going to explore the city and I'd likely be gone all day. A few minutes after I hung up, she called back and told me she would come to me at 2PM. Her plan was that we'd visit her mom and step-dad for some sashlik. I agreed and then went to a nearby internet café, wrote to friends and family, took a long walk, played chicken with the crazy Moscow drivers, etc. I went back to my flat, showered, and waited and waited. She was an hour late, and I counted each minute passing as I stared at the walls of my flat. There I was, in exciting, decadent Moscow, on a perfectly lovely Spring day with just six days remaining on my holiday, and I was sitting in my flat like some geriatric tourist waiting until midday naptime was over for the rest of the seniors to meet in the hotel lobby for a wine and cheese mixer. When Irina showed up, she was smiling and happy, kissing me and wrapping my arm around her, as we walked to the metro.

We took the metro to the outskirts of Moscow, then grabbed the elektrichka, and finally a marshrutka. After awhile I warmed to Irina again, and by time we exited the marshrutka we were holding hands and talking happily. Her mom lived in a suburban area wherein all the roads were dirt/gravel and there were no apartment complexes, only houses. There were electrical lines, but no plumbing. Some of the houses were downright scary, and I'd like to think many were abandoned because they looked untenable, but I’m guessing most had residents. We'd walked about two miles ("It's just a short walk," Irina had explained earlier, but I know how much FSU women walk so it wasn't a surprise to me) and then came to her mom and step-dad's home. To my relief it was a lovely place, lots of green grass, gardens, a modern-looking brick home and a few smaller buildings. Introductions were made and I was pleased to find that Irina's step-dad, Sasha, spoke fairly good English. Irina showed me around and while Sasha worked the grill, we all sipped strong wine and I told them about life in America. Sasha explained to me that he'd built their home himself, and was currently assembling a sauna. The sun was warm on my face, Irina's hand was on my lap, and I thought to myself that there's nowhere on this earth I'd rather be in this moment. It occurred to me that even five years ago, I could have never imagined myself in such a strange, exotic, harsh, but ultimately wonderful place, surrounded by people whose warmth and hospitality seemed boundless.

We went for a walk in the nearby forest, and Irina and I had a heart-to-heart. She explained to me that she liked me very much, I was the tenderest and most considerate man she'd ever dated, but she didn't want to rush things. I explained to her that I had seven days in Moscow, and that we had no choice but to move quickly. I liked her immensely, but knowing how limited my time was in Moscow, I was ready to resurrect my backup plan the instant things went south. It may seem cold and mercenary, but anyone who's done this long enough knows that if an FSU girl's not into you, the only sensible thing to do is drop her immediately and find someone else. Once you understand that there is no shortage of girls willing to meet you, this attitude becomes easier to adopt.

Afterwards, as the sun faded, we said goodbye to her mom and Sasha and rushed back to catch the last marshrutka. As we walked, Irina explained that her mom and Sasha adored me, and I told her, truthfully, that I felt the same and hoped we'd have time to see them again before I left for home. On the metro, Irina fell asleep with her head on my shoulder and by time we got back to the city center, it was late evening. After many kisses we parted and made plans to meet the next morning.

[Rando]

No agency...no dating site???? How exactly did you come across each other then?

[wiz]

Com'on groov.... use your fingers, take a drink and continue writing.

You have us on tender hooks and waiting holding our breath.

[groovlstk]

No agency...no dating site???? How exactly did you come across each other then?

We met on ICQ. At the time I had no idea what she looked like

[groovlstk]

Day 4

Like all tourists visiting Moscow for the first time, one of the places I wanted to see most was Red Square. However, I had more than one reason why I wanted to see it: I'd recently completed Pimsleur Instant Russian and outside of the day-to-day spasibas, skulkas, and horoshos that helped me in cafes and markets, I longed to say something more ambitious. Thanks to Pimsleur, I could now say "Red Square is over there." "Tell me please, where is Red Square?" and "Red Square is here." I imagined myself emerging from the metro station and pointing to Red Square. "Grozny plauchet tom," I'd say casually, as the citizenry marveled at my perfect pronunciation.   

Irina arrived at around 10 and we took the metro to Red Square. It was a beautiful day, bright and sunny, and we held hands and walked. There were many tourists, especially Germans. Lately it seems I'm dogged by Germans: the area around my office near Times Square is always teeming with Germans, my airline of choice (Lufthansa) is German, I drink German beer, my car is German.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/belaruskaya.jpg

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/stb2.jpg

There's a big fountain near Red Square, and I was amused to watch a boy of perhaps six launch his own profit sharing program by diving in and picking up change tourists had tossed in. The day grew quite warm so we had some ice cream and later on some pivo.

That afternoon, we went back to my flat and phoned around Moscow trying to find a notary who could register my visa. We found one that would do the job for 450 rubles, which was nearly half of what I was charged in St. Petersburg for the same service in February. We finished up around 7PM, and Irina announced that she had to return home to walk her dog, Chuck Norris. Earlier in the week, her sister had done her a favor and walked Chuck while we were out cavorting around Moscow. I offered to go with her and she refused, so I decided it was time for a talk. Many experienced board members have cautioned that a language gulf becomes much wider during an argument. Damn tootin' it does. We never had a problem communicating before, but our discussion was very difficult as she bumped up against the limits of her vocabulary and I, feeling tense, talked too fast.

Irina explained to me that she liked me very much, etc., but I needed to be patient with her and give her time to get to know me. I countered that she had it easy: if she decided she didn't want to see me anymore, she could simply go back to work tomorrow and save her vacation time for something better. I, however, would be stuck in a foreign city without a friend in site, and would arrive home in five days a few thousand dollars less, after yet another wild goose chase. As we waited for the metro to take her home, she told me that I must prepare myself for the possibility that she might say goodbye to me for good sometime during the next few days. I was shocked by this admission, but at the same time I admired her for her honesty, something that is not very common in this part of the world. Then she told me she'd call me when she arrived home. I played the only card I had left and told her not to bother since I wouldn't be home until late, as I was going to hang out a disco near my apartment. (A dreadful place called Dirty Dancing.) She advised me not to go out, that there were too many packs of drunken young men near my flat, and that it was dangerous. (She was right. More on this later.) I laughed and told her that if she didn't want to spend this time with me, she had no business expecting me to spend my evening alone in my flat. We parted without so much as a kiss.

I dejectedly walked back to my flat but instinct took over and I dug out my cheatsheet of Moscow girls I'd talked to before my trip. While I was in the shower, I heard my phone ring but didn't bother answering it. You want more space? Fine, you got it, babe. I walked to the internet café across the street from my apartment, and updated my friends and family. Before I left for Moscow, I'd confided in a few RWD folks that it was very likely my last trip. If things didn't go well, I was planning to throw in the towel and concentrate on Russian women already in the US. There's a difference between quitting and knowing when you're beat…

I phoned two girls who had agreed to meet me before I flew in, both weren't answering their mobiles. I emailed yet another… Frustrated, I realized how paltry my backup plan was, and I wanted to kick myself in the a$$ for not having a more solid plan. But four days had passed, and the girls knew I had arrived already and probably wrote me off when they didn't hear from me earlier. I decided to go for a long walk, as I do my best thinking when I'm walking. At the end of my block, there is a bus station and one of those vodka/beer/cigarettes kiosks and I noticed in the evening there were often a lot of young drunks hanging out there. As I approached the corner, one of the young drunks approached me and ask me something (no doubt for $$). I looked at him and said "ya ne ponimayu." He started following me, saying "ya ne ponimayu" in a jeering way as his cohorts laughed. Ordinarily I'd have ignored him as long as he didn't touch me, but I was in a black mood. I turned and bellowed "YA NE F'n PONIMAYU in his face. He stepped back, surprised, and didn't let out another peep. He and most of his friends were very small and it seemed as if there was something wrong with their physiques, the proportions of their bodies were all wrong. It crossed my mind that they might be suffering from fetal alcohol syndrome.

I walked for two hours and I thought long and hard. I liked Irina a lot, she was the real deal. Only once before did I feel this strongly about an FSU girl I'd met, long ago. Irina was tender and sweet, very beautiful, and from all I could tell, very honest with me. I liked how she would give up her seat on the metro for an elderly person, how she always had a few rubles for needy babushkas. I realized I'd made things difficult by pressuring her to spend the night with me, to spend more time with me, to decide whether she wanted to be with me for the rest of my stay in Moscow. Up until now, the dozens of girls I met in Ukraine and Russia were agency girls, and they understood the rules of this "special" (and that's putting it as kindly as possible) courtship. I decided that I was going to try to win her, that I'd be patient with her and not pressure her. If at the end of the week she wasn't interested in seeing me again, I'd close up shop on the Russian/Ukrainian front and consider my travels something to entertain my grandkids with, if I had any.

On my way back to my flat, I was relieved to see that the runts were passed out on the sidewalk. Hot and sweaty from my walk, I picked up a few bottles of pivo. I sat in my living room, listening to jazz. I took out a pad and pen, and wrote down a list of commandments that I'd vow to follow for the rest of my time with Irina. I used to work as a technical project manager, and compiling such lists was the only way I could get through each day. Around 11PM, the phone rang. I was in a good mood and answered the phone saying, "Patio Pizza, how may I help you?" Irina laughed uproariously. Then she turned serious and told me, "Mark, I long for you. I long for you." She explained that as soon as she arrived home, she realized she missed me terribly and phoned me to ask if she could come back and spend the night with me. (I ruefully remembered my refusal to answer the phone hours earlier. Ever hear of that joke about how US military-issued eyeglasses are referred to as "birth control devices"? I figure my attitude might qualify for the same title.) Irina apologized for her strange behavior, saying that she'd never felt so many emotions in such a short period of time. I told her not to worry about it and I apologized for putting so much pressure on her. I told her we shouldn't be so serious, that we should just enjoy our remaining time together and that we would worry about deciding if we wanted to meet again after I returned to the US.

She called again an hour later, saying she was making borscht for me and that she'd bring it to me in the morning. She called a third time as I was nodding off, to wish me good night. I knew I was back in the game.

[KenC]

Groove,
Nice report.  I am enjoying it.  My 2 cents: You did the right thing by ignoring the call even if it did cause you to miss out on a night of fun. Sometimes you just have to set her priorities straight. If you are too available or too flexible, it works against you. It is a paradox, women want to be the center of your attention, but once they are, they get bored with it. It is always better to keep them guessing. At least a little bit.
KenC

[wiz]

Sadist LOL

I am sending my secretary around to help you with the typing.....LOL

[PeeWee]

Funny enough, we never used her car even once. Moscow has a huge traffic problem, particularly in the last few years as the number of cars has swelled. The metro is the fastest and easiest way to get around Moscow. I was impressed by the beauty of the stations and the reliability of the trains. We never waited longer than a minute or two.

I also took a few elektrichka and marshrutka rides.

It always amazes me at how fast those trains travel. They seem to fly by you at 60mph but some how manage to stop in front of you anyway. The ceilings of the stations are akin to the ceiling of the Sixteen Chapel, as depicted by Mike Aneglo, in the God Box, aka Vatican. Did you know there are 3 levels of the metro?  Government workers, military, and then civilian. I'm not sure if all of the levels are still used or not because I did talk to three Army boys on the civilian level last time I used Metro.

Peewee

[PeeWee]

Awsome trip report. I would very much have liked to have left Moscow and visited the forest.

Peewee

[PeeWee]

Well you know that you can't seem needy to a woman. She needs to believe that you are in demand, even if you are not. You need to create that illusion. Not answering the phone, especially in the evening and on Saturday, is a sure fire way to look busy and in demand. Not calling her back when she asks  you to or not calling her for a week. Never calling her on a Friday or Saturday night. Stuff like that. Somehow you managed to turn the tide on her. I think it was you not answering the phone and you not chasing her.  I think had you done that you would have seen a different result.

Twice my friend Svetlana told me to never call her again. I did just that. I did  not call her again. But both times, after about 3 weeks had passed, she called me. Women like that kind of stuff. You just need to give them the impression that they need you more than you need them. It sometimes is a very hard thing to do but in the end it will pay off for you.

Peewee

[Zhena]

Well you know that you can't seem needy to a woman. She needs to believe that you are in demand, even if you are not. You need to create that illusion. Not answering the phone, especially in the evening and on Saturday, is a sure fire way to look busy and in demand. Not calling her back when she asks  you to or not calling her for a week. Never calling her on a Friday or Saturday night. Stuff like that. Somehow you managed to turn the tide on her. I think it was you not answering the phone and you not chasing her.  I think had you done that you would have seen a different result.

Twice my friend Svetlana told me to never call her again. I did just that. I did  not call her again. But both times, after about 3 weeks had passed, she called me. Women like that kind of stuff. You just need to give them the impression that they need you more than you need them. It sometimes is a very hard thing to do but in the end it will pay off for you.

Peewee

Very dangerous game.
Imagine,that the women think the same? So its just becoming to be a competition whos character is stronger
The mature people usually dont need that kind of a game. I never was after the men who are not interested in me. I never called to them. Of course,this is me and not everyone is like that.

[KenC]

a fiancee,
The only way to truly win this "game" is to actually have other options!
KenC

[PeeWee]

a fiancee,
The only way to truly win this "game" is to actually have other options!
KenC

More options are better. Much like having a toolbelt. Always having the right tool to get the job done will make you job both easier and it will take less time to complete your task. (an analogy...of sorts). To have options is to know success.

Peewee

[PeeWee]

I've been checking back regularly  to learn the fate of our recent returned brother. We need the ending!

Peewee

[groovlstk]

Ken and Peewee are correct. Up until that point, she figured she had me lock, stock, & barrel. But once she realized that I had other options, things changed. I had a similar experience with a girl during my last trip to Dnepropetrovsk. She was warm with me but not very affectionate. Then she saw another girl's photo on my digital cam and and after that she couldn't keep her hands off me. But sure, it's card that must be played carefully because not all women will react the same way.

[Muj]

If you're preoccupied in playing the game, you miss the serious good ones not playing games. imho

[PeeWee]

Ken and Peewee are correct. Up until that point, she figured she had me lock, stock, & barrel. But once she realized that I had other options, things changed. I had a similar experience with a girl during my last trip to Dnepropetrovsk. She was warm with me but not very affectionate. Then she saw another girl's photo on my digital cam and and after that she couldn't keep her hands off me. But sure, it's card that must be played carefully because not all women will react the same way.

There you go! I found this out on my first visit to Moscow. I had 3 to see. I was up front with each and told them what was what. The ensuing jockying for position was remarkable. "See me first." or "Who is she? I will kill her." That said in a joking way, of course. It brings out the competiveness in them and a bit of jealousy too. They want what they think they can't have more so than what they know they can get.

The other thing that you have going for you, groov, none of us have it either, is that sheep that you pack around on your head. Every woman loves lambs cause they are so cute and soft. Nice move. I wish I had thought of it.

Peewee

[PeeWee]

If you're preoccupied in playing the game, you miss the serious good ones not playing games. imho

This is not a game? I do believe, if true, then I seem to have taken a wrong turn just past my college years. Because I have been playing this one for more years than I care to admit to.

Peewee

[groovlstk]

Day 5

I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing, and Irina told me she'd be by in an hour. Irina is maybe 100 lbs., soaking wet, but when she arrived she gave me a hug that nearly knocked the wind out of me. Before we left my flat, I carefully folded up my list of commandments and tucked it away safely in my back pocket, so I'd always have a reminder. We took the metro to Pushkin Museum.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/pushkin.jpg

Another interesting building nearby:
http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/building.jpg

I told her the museum was lovely, but that the Museum of Natural History in New York City was more impressive. She didn't like the sound of that and for the rest of our time together, we had a playful New York vs. Moscow thing going. She's very proud to be Russian and insists that Moscow is the greatest city in the world. After spending the morning in the museum, we went to the nearby Church of the Savior.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/church.jpg

It was massive and awesome, and we spent several hours touring the museum in the church's basement. Stalin had the church razed in the 1930s but it was painstakingly rebuilt in the 90s.

Earlier that morning, Irina had announced "you are my man, now. My only man." When she arrived that morning, I noted that she'd bought along a bag, presumably with clothes and such. I had my fingers crossed...

After exiting the church, we were both thirsty so we bought juice from a nearby kiosk and headed in the direction of the metro. Then something happened that was kind of extraordinary, something that seems so scripted that I'm almost embarrassed to tell it. When I arrived in Moscow, I bought a 20-trip metro ticket, which I kept in my wallet. Anyway, there I was, holding my backpack and two juice bottles, so I asked her to fish our metro card out of my wallet. She reached into my pocket, removed my wallet and the metro card, then playfully decided to have her way with me while my hands were tied up. She began go through the rest of my pockets, and truth be told I was more than happy for the attention. I jokingly called her a pervert and a molester. When she reached into my back pocket, I suddenly remembered that the list I'd put together the evening before was there! I twisted away from her but she already had it. I dropped my backpack and made a lunge for it, but she spun away, laughing. I realized there was nothing I could do... but man, was I embarrassed. The items I listed were silly, mushy stuff like, "I will remember to give Irina a red rose every day" (she loves red roses) and "I will not give her attitude in the evenings when she leaves me." She carefully read through the list, and I sighed and explained to her that yes it was silly, but I wrote it the previous evening when I decided that I would do whatever it takes to win her heart. When she looked up at me her eyes were wet. When I reached to take my list back she told me, "no, I will keep it. It's an important memory for our future together." Just like that I went from jackass to prince.

We headed back to my flat for a shower and change of clothes, as we were planning to grab dinner and then play some billiards. When I emerged from my bedroom, Irina took one look at my shirt (a simple button-down oxford) and said "you can't wear that!!!!"

"Why not?" I said.

"People will think you are blue man!"

"What's a blue man?

"He wears such pink clotheses!"

Eventually I figured out that a blue man is a homosexual. I couldn't stop laughing as I changed shirts. I explained to her that many women in Manhattan befriend blue men because they know they can trust them implicitly. But in America, you can't determine if a man is gay by the color of his shirt. Trousers, maybe (but then again, he might not be gay, but a golfer).

And for the record, the color of my shirt is SALMON, not pink. So stop snickering.

We had dinner at Patio Pizza, an overpriced Western-style Italian chain that I'd eaten at in St. Petersburg during my last trip to Russia. We then took the metro to Irina's favorite billiards hall, which also featured a small bowling alley.

Forgive me for a small aside, but I have a theory about why billiards is popular in the US, among young people, at least. My neighborhood is chock full of late twentysomethings who are either white or Asian, pierced, tattooed, listen to rap music, and obviously come from wealthy families. I think they love billiards because it's a game that, historically, was a favorite among badasses, social outcasts, and rebels. They like the aura of danger although they avoid the real thing at all costs. It allows them to indulge in a little fantasy, and so what if they're paying $7 per beer because they'd never go to a pool hall in a bad neighborhood?

Irina told me she's a very good pool player, and since I rarely play I figured I'd get whooped. There were a few people bowling and two men playing what Irina explained was "Russian pool" (the tables are huge and the balls are about twice the size), so we chose a table near the rear, where we'd have a little privacy. We ordered a round of pivo, which came in enormous glasses which I'm guessing held about two pints. Against all odds, I won the first game. She beat me in the second game and third games. Before our fourth and final game, she told me "if you win, I will spend the night with you. If you lose, I'm going home." I won but she made a few bad shots, leading me to suspect she'd pulled a Roberto Duran.

Irina was a bit tipsy when we left, and on the metro she kept sliding off the bench, I had to wrap my arms around her to keep her steady. The only saving grace was that practically all the other people on the metro at that hour were also drunk. When we got to my flat, she leapt into my arms and I carried her up the three flights of stairs to my door. Like so many doors to flats that I saw in Ukraine and Russia, it looked more like a leather sofa than a door. It had been a wonderful day and it was about to get better.

[PeeWee]

This has been a well written trip report. It is as if I am almost there. When last in Moscow I too visited the Putkin Museum and I do recall the blue building located across the street from the museum. Why am I not seeing any photos of Irina or the sheep?

Peewee