In this travelogue, I explore San Antonio, Weimar America, and Houston.
Join me on my tour by visiting Roosh Live for a full listing of all cities I’ll be in. Subscribe to my Youtube channel to catch future travel videos.
Previously: Babylon Road #17 – Waco, Fredericksburg, Austin
In this travelogue, I leave Houston and make a mad dash through the Gulf Coast on my way to Miami.
Join me on my tour by visiting Roosh Live for a full listing of all cities I’ll be in. Subscribe to my Youtube channel to catch future travel videos.
Previously: Babylon Road #18 – San Antonio, Weimar, Houston
In this travelogue, I leave Miami and slowly crawl my way to Orlando via the coast.
Join me on my tour by visiting Roosh Live for a full listing of all cities I’ll be in. Subscribe to my Youtube channel to catch future travel videos.
Previously: Babylon Road #19 – New Orleans, Fairhope, Miami
In this travelogue, I leave Orlando and chronicle my trip through Georgia.
Join me on my tour by visiting Roosh Live for a full listing of all cities I’ll be in. Subscribe to my Youtube channel to catch future travel videos.
Previously: Babylon Road #20 – Palm Beach, Cocoa Beach, Orlando
In this travelogue, I travel through northern Alabama on my way to Nashville, Tennessee.
Join me on my tour by visiting Roosh Live for a full listing of all cities I’ll be in. Subscribe to my Youtube channel to catch future travel videos.
Previously: Babylon Road #21 – Thomasville, Americus, Atlanta
In this travelogue, I visit the Great Smoky Mountains and make my way through North Carolina to Charlotte.
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Previously: Babylon Road #22 – Arab, Athens, Nashville
In this travelogue, I travel from North Carolina back to Washington D.C. while sharing six major things I’ve learned from my trip.
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Previously: Babylon Road #23 – Great Smoky Mountains, Asheville, Charlotte
PREVIOUSLY: PART 1
I slowly walked down the car line. Most were filled with several passengers, though some had lone drivers. I brought extra money for bribes, hotel, or a chance apocalyptic border event; 2,000 zloty (about $700) in total, all in 100 zloty bills fresh from the ATM. These people had to have a price for taking a chance on a random bearded fellow. In countries where average wages are $2 an hour, I’d make an offer they couldn’t refuse. I just had to find someone that would be just as scared of me as I would be of them.
I saw a woman about 45 years of age smoking a cigarette with her window cracked. I went up with a smile and in Polish said, “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon,” she said.
“I have a problem. I’m American and I want to get across the border but I need a car. I don’t have a car. I live in Lublin.”
“That is a problem.”
“Can you help me get across the border? I don’t have any contraband.” I showed her the contents of my laptop bag. “I can give you 100 zloty [$33].”
“100?”
“Yes, 100.”
“Okay.”
I got into the car and thanked her. I asked her where she was going and she said Lublin. She was willing to drive me all the way back for the 100. There were over fifty cars I could have chosen to approach, and my first pick was a nice lady who was going to the exact same city I was.
We settled into a Polish conversation as the car inched towards the Ukrainian border. “Why did you come to Ukraine?” I asked.
“In Ukraine, gas and cigarettes are cheap. I come once a week to fill up my tank and buy a carton.”
“Do a lot of people do that?”
“Yes, things are cheaper in Ukraine. People smuggle mostly cigarettes and vodka, and then sell them in Poland for a higher price.”
“So everything in Poland is more expensive?”
“Everything except meat. People smuggle meat into Ukraine.”
I found it hard to believe that she would take an entire day of every week to save money on gas and cigarettes. She must have another hustle going. Perhaps the reason she didn’t seem to care if I had contraband was because she was loaded with it.
When we finally approached the border, she put 30 hryvnia [$4] in the back of her passport.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“It’s tradition. The Ukrainian agent takes it.”
“Tradition? You have to do it every time?”
“Yes. Everyone does it.”
“So the agent makes a lot of money.”
“Yes it’s a good job.”
“Do you have to do this in Poland, too?”
“No, only in Ukraine. Oh and don’t admit you speak Polish or Ukrainian. Only speak in English.”
A lot of NGOs deride corruption, but if you’re rich, corruption is great—you can buy your way out of anything. It’s nothing more than a regressive tax. If you’re reading this right now you probably make enough money to where some corruption would benefit you.
The Ukrainian agent looked at me weird while my Polish smuggler did all the talking. We got through without problems, and then blazed through the Polish border.
—
It started raining soon after we crossed. Her three cell phones kept ringing and she would always answer. While she was taking one call, the windshield made a loud pop and then a constant screech as if a hundred nails were being dragged against a chalkboard. The right wiper came off and the metal was stroking the glass. She was on the phone while this happened and kept yelling “Fuck” in Polish while actually speeding up. I double checked my seat belt. I tried to see through the window but it was almost impossible with the rain and wind. Just when I thought I should probably say something, she pulled over to the side of the road. She looked at me and yelled, “You’re paying for this!”
I stepped outside with her, not saying a word. She had spare wipers in her trunk. I used the flashlight app on my phone to help her replace it. She did it so fast that I assumed this was a common problem.
Once all was fixed, she calmed down and talked about her daughters, who were 24 and 21. They both had kids, so there was no hookup for me. “I’m a grandmother,” she said. She’d often interrupt the conversation to moan in pain every time she went over a big bump on the road. She kept saying “Massacre, massacre” in Polish, which made me nervous.
It took less than two hours to arrive in Lublin. She didn’t ask for the wiper fee but I gave her 120 zloty anyway, about $40. Considering the bus ticket to Łuck was $22, I was satisfied with the price and speed of my private car hire.
At 6:30 I walked into my coffee shop. While ordering my first cappuccino, the barista told me a meeting was about to start. There was an organization in Lublin trying to throw a marathon and once a week they meet to go over plans. A month before I crashed a meeting to hit on one of the organizers who had huge Bambi eyes. She took my email address under the guise that I would volunteer to translate their web page to English, but she never got back to me.
I sat in the back room because the marathoners monopolize all the front space. About half an hour later, the Bambi girl came to check out the back room, which had just been renovated a week earlier.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi, I’m just coming back to check the room.”
“I thought you heard I was back here and wanted to say hi.”
She laughed. “I didn’t know you are here. How are you?”
“Ask me what I did today.”
“What did you do today?”
“I woke up, took a bus to Ukraine, got off at the border, and then paid a grandmother to drive me back here.” I took out my passport and showed her two Ukrainian stamps with the same date on them. I was still buzzing from my little adventure.
“Wow! You know, I have never been to Ukraine before.” She examined my passport carefully since she had never seen an American passport before. My photo is decent, when I was young and broody, and she complimented it.
She looked better than the last time I saw her. She was wearing makeup and had on a stylish outfit with modest two-inch heels. I could only imagine how her tight runners body would feel between my hands. I wanted to grab her right there, but societal norms prevented me from doing so.
When I first met her, I was indirect because her fellow organizers were spying on my game, but now I didn’t waste time. I asked her if she was single, if she likes going out, and if she likes foreign guys. She giggled and stuck around. I took that as a green light, asking for her plans the upcoming weekend.
She said, “On Friday I’m going to the club with my friends. You’re welcome to come.”
After I got her number, she brought me a piece of cake that was for the meeting. I devoured it and then went to order my second cup of cappuccino from the barista.
“Sorry, I can’t,” the barista said.
“Funny joke,” I said.
“No really. The coffee grinder makes too much noise and it will disturb the meeting.”
That’s the first time in my life I asked for a cup of coffee in a coffee shop and was told I couldn’t have it.
Next to the coffee shop is a mall that I like to do walk-throughs and sometimes make the occasional approach. I left the coffee shop to do my walk. There I spotted my real estate agent, who was with two young people. Both were overweight and wearing hipster outfits. My agent introduced us and I asked where they were from.
“Wisconsin.”
“USA, represent!” I said, excitedly.
“Ehhh not so much,” the guy said.
“Well you’re in Poland. They love Americans here.”
“I don’t know about that. I was just yelled at for speaking English. I don’t like telling people I’m from America.”
I wanted to blast this fool. He’s in a country where the American passport opens doors and he’s hiding it. I’m sure he’s one of those types that says he’s from Canada or South Africa. I bit my lip and said goodbye to my agent.
I went home and made myself dinner at my usual time, reflecting on the day. It had a mix of adventure and routine, but something else was at play. I approached the girl at the bus station, in the cold, when I didn’t have to. I made an announcement on the bus asking for English speakers, when I didn’t have to, getting into a chat with a possible dream girl. I got off at the border without having a way back, which I’m sure Lonely Planet wouldn’t have advised. I went direct on a girl who had softly rejected me in the past, and got her number. I broke rules, and by rules I mean I behaved in a way that most others wouldn’t have behaved.
What was holding me back from days like this wasn’t my environment. I didn’t have to make a border run every day or proposition a girl every day, but I had to stop craving those two cappuccinos. I had to kill the routine. Because nothing interesting happens within your routine.
Previous Story: Patricia’s Smartphone
I took the advice of my peers and lived in Washington DC to better observe the city and its people. For one month in April I lived in between the Shaw and Convention Center metro stations. And in the case you’re new—this is in addition to living in the DC area for about 30 years. Here’s what I noticed:
I remember being in the Metro Center station on a Saturday night surrounded by a couple hundred people without being able to identify a single girl who was a 7 or above. At night at a medium-sized bar there is usually one or two 7’s and maybe an 8, but they are invariably inaccessible. If I lived in DC now, there would be lower motivation for me to work on my physique for the purpose of being more attractive to the low quality women I regularly see out.
On the other hand, there are pockets of very beautiful women floating around, which I did not see before. While they raise the average up, I did not see them regularly enough to figure out how to access them. My instinct is to say the average is slightly increasing, but the most beautiful girls are embedded in large groups and are hard to meet.
In the relentless pursuit of their career, white girls are completely neglecting their appearance. Even if they happen to have a normal weight, their generic Gap style and use of flip flops and sneakers is inappropriate. I’m not into fashion, but I’m pretty sure I could be a consultant for these women, because as of now they seem to be dressed by the blind. The same can be said for white guys as well. These people have money and some brains but absolutely no self-awareness about how they are presenting themselves to the world.
It used to be that DC girls would at least be polite for the sake of being polite, but this is going out of the window. My indirect openers during the day, where I would start by asking for help, saw a slightly increased failure rate. Even helping a random stranger is becoming too much for them, and I imagine that feigning a handicap wouldn’t have made much of a difference.
At night the situation can be downright brutal, and I’ve had to emotionally brace myself before approaching to prepare for a rude response. Unless you “wow” her within the first minute by being the best clown in the room with a stellar performance, you won’t be able to keep her attention. If I was a girl who had so many cock options, I’d probably react the same way, so I can’t say I’m angry at them. They are responding in a rational way to living in a demographic environment where they are in high demand.
We get on girls for being addicted to their iphones, but it’s starting to engulf everyone. People are finding it impossible to wait for a train or in a coffee shop without pulling out their phone. I regularly witness a row of ten or more zombies on their phones as the subway train arrives, and when I see people put away their phone, they usually bring it back out in less than a minute, as if it’s a compulsion they can’t fight. Even more surprising is that this addiction is starting to affect the Hispanic immigrants and even the older Americans. No one is immune.
Yes, there are a good number of foreign women in DC, specifically workers in the soup of imperialistic agencies like the World Bank and IMF, but beauty-wise they are not the best of what their countries offer. While they dress much better than the white girls, they hover around the 5 or 6 range and are way past their prime, with an average age pushing 30. Many have also lived in the area for years and have had their personalities correspondingly corrupted. I wouldn’t bother with them if I was in their country, but in DC they are seen as cream of the crop.
I’ve lost count how many times I’ve seen good-looking men (around the 7 and 8 range) with muscles and apparent game striking out with girls below 7. In foreign countries they would have minor issues getting with cute girls, but here they have to spam approach in the hopes of getting lucky. I tell guys to work on your game, body, and so on, but what’s the point if doing all that will only get you a decent girl once in a while seemingly by luck? How much use is there to the art of game in a city as awful as DC where you must do at least 30 approaches a week, essentially making getting laid a part time job, and when a girl feels more comfortable screening men via apps instead of meeting them in person?
I did about 15 approaches my first week in DC, both day and night. After those experiences, which did not result in sex, my gut told me to stop playing the game and chose to wait until departing the country. The reason is that, due to my travels, I know my objective value on the world market. I know what type of girl I should get and how much work is required (on average), but in DC it was quickly made apparent that I would have to put three times the effort on girls who were a third as valuable. But then my horniness asserted itself, and I willingly lowered my standards just to get laid, but it made me feel great shame.
Unfortunately for many DC men, they have not gone through the price discovery process. They think this is a state of normalcy and they can’t get better than what they’ve been getting. Too bad they haven’t visited other countries, because they are stuck in a market that doesn’t favor them, while I will continue to live in places where I have greater value and the cost of living in significantly cheaper.
Believe me that it was very sobering to get poor reactions from women who were uglier than what I was getting just a couple weeks prior in Poland. In DC I have to conclude that I am just a typical schlub, a low-value man who has to compete with tons of other men who have impressive business cards and expertise knowledge of local craft beers. In some foreign cities, I’m actually a decent catch, but here’s I’m just one of many, another circumsized cock. Just when I think my value is the highest it has ever been, DC girls remind me that I’m no better than a garbage man, and I must grind it out for sex.
I forgot that people in America ask how you are without actually wanting to know the answer. It may actually seem friendly and nice on the surface, but I consider it rude because the questioner has no intent to carry through what could be a neutral or negative response. It’s tiring and fake to have dozens of these bullshit greetings and small talk exchanges every day. In addition, people say thank you for everything. I regularly witness people say thanks in restaurants for being seated, receiving a menu, or even receiving the check. Saying thanks has been reduced to conversational filler with no meaning behind it.
A lot of people said in the past that I would have had a better time in DC had I lived in the city instead of the suburbs. The last time I visited for a month, I experienced a sort of reverse culture shock depression and thought it was because I stayed with my dad in the middle of nowhere without a car. This time I stayed within 10 minutes walking distance to Chinatown and 15 minutes walking distance to U & 14th Streets. But I entered the same kind of depression faster. After only seven days, I was aching to leave, even though I was very close to many cafes, restaurants, and bars. My dad’s suburb actually insulated me from all negative things I disliked about DC, but there is no avoiding these features when you’re in the thick of it. If you consider that DC is a poison, it would only make sense that you’d get sicker if you were exposed to larger doses of the harmful agent. I can only conclude that living in the suburbs for so many years delayed my exit from the area.
White girls are becoming a bad bet. In DC it’s clear they are most affected by smartphone addiction and feminist ideology. They are masculine, rude, and eagerly receptive to corporate manufactured trends. More severely, they are the ones who are most likely to accuse you of assault or harassment, or rape you in a divorce. They truly are the most entitled and privileged class of female in the world, and while I don’t want to say I fear them, I feel quite hesitate to have sexual relations with them, especially if they find my internet writings. They are the ones who—more than any other type of woman—can turn my life upside down by lying to the police. It’s not a stretch to say that if you interact with them, you’re essentially like a black man in the Jim Crow south, one accusation away from big problems or, at the minimum, having your reputation ruined.
Every technology or app invented this point forth will benefit women more than men. All social networking and smartphone technologies, while offering some benefit to men in specific circumstances, offer a far greater benefit to women in satisfying their attention and validation needs. Facebook and the smartphone in particular are seemingly geared for the female species.
A new app which I got word is hurting men is Uber. In the past, if a woman was in your place for the night, she would likely stay and bang your brains out, even if your game wasn’t “perfect.” But now, if she gets just one “creepy” feeling or you make one bad joke that she doesn’t want to brush off, she can pull her phone, make two clicks, and have a car waiting for her outside within a few minutes. Even though catching a cab is easy, this new app is extremely popular with women and—from what I hear—is used often to delay sexual intercourse or to give women an out when they encounter imperfect game. The saddest part of mobile or internet technology is that men are openly embracing it even though it harms them when it comes to having sex with women.
The amount of delicious food choices here is astounding, both in the supermarkets and in restaurants. There is a neverending temptation to eat food that was engineered in laboratory settings to be incredibly tasty, compared to the healthy but bland offerings I often find in Eastern Europe. What’s even more incredible is how cheap food is if you account for the average salary in America. Yes, food in the third-world is cheaper in absolute terms, but not in relation to the lower income that foreign people earn.
Because of the deliciousness and cheapness of food, an American must show daily self-constraint to resist eating more than their body needs. It’s actually a miracle that skinny people exist at all in America. They must have incredible virtue to resist the extra heapings of food that they come across every day. Even I gained 2.5 pounds during my stay because I indulged in luxury burgers and peanut butter.
You know all the bullshit you encounter on Jezebel and XOjane? It’s filtering into the mainstream. One girl tried to preach to me about the 77% wage gap (which has thoroughly been debunked) and I overheard another wage gap discussion by an overweight white woman. I overheard minority women talking about “micro aggressions,” and the word “privilege,” to denote some type of race or economic advantage, is part of daily lexicon. As much as we hate sites that spread this information, we have to accept that today’s American woman is a vacuous receptacle for them because it allows her to not take personal responsibility for her life. The exception is if she ever achieves success, whereby she is intelligent and empowered, but if she experiences a failure, then it was due to someone else’s privilege or a mythical illuminati construct to hold down women for all eternity.
If there’s one race in America that you could count on to be hypermasculine, it was black men. This is coming to an end. The younger black men are becoming more feminized or just outright turning to homosexuality. This softening is reflected in rap music. I used to listen to it to get a chauvinistic surge before going out at night, but nowadays a lot of the top acts like Future, Kanye West, Drake, and even Lil Wayne are spitting betafied anthems that are one small step above Bruno Mars. It makes sense from a commercial standpoint—this is what black men now want.
I believe that smartphones are playing a big part in this softening. Black youth who used to be loud and aggressive are now docile with their devices hooked up to a pair of Beats by Dre headphones, bobbing their heads alone, not disturbing anyone else’s space. I used to be ultra-vigilant when walking in DC late at night, but I believe young black men have become less capable of violent crime. Unless you’re in the ghetto and see obvious thug body language with menacing eye contact or baggy jeans that could conceal weapons, safety shouldn’t be a huge concern. I also see how the white knockout game was overstated in its prevalence. With the huge amount of black-white mixing in gentrified areas, a couple dozen incidents in two or three years should be considered a disturbing nuisance instead of an outright race war.
I can’t blame men for being thirsty in the anti-male DC environment, but it definitely doesn’t make any night out enjoyable when you have to compete with men who are willing to pedestalize women to great heights just for a chance at a conversation, lining up to provide open bar service without wanting anything in return besides a 1% shot at sex.
It got to the point where for principle’s sake I declined to approach a girl to not further boost her ego, even though it would result in no sex for me. It’s just perverse and unnatural to see average women with so many options. The only way to pick up at night in DC is to have strong thirst. Otherwise, you won’t be able to tolerate what you see.
If a girl calls you a douchebag, but remains planted, you are probably going to smash. With the two girls I had intimacy with, I was called a grab-bag of the usual suspects: creep, shady, jerk, dick, sexist, offensive, and annoying. For a girl to call me these names, and then soon let me shove my tongue down her mouth, is quite unnatural, but then again they serve as definitive proof that you are entertaining her and giving her the drama that she wants in her hookup partner.
It’s clear to me that the compliment is officially dead. Modern interactions are devolving into something like a freestyle rap battle that ends with rough sex. In fact, the best way to judge how well you’re doing is when a girl insults you and then smiles. Keep up the banter and invite her to your place while disingenuously telling her that you don’t want to have sex with her because her hair color is wrong or due to some other trivial flaw.
Conclusion
I don’t know how you guys do it. I don’t know how you can stay in these types of environments. I’m not judging or shaming you for that, but either your will is stronger than mine or your personality is Americanized to the point where you possess some shared traits with American women. I used to have some of these traits as well, but I did a detox abroad and am now unable to tolerate them for more than a month at a time. Depending on how you look at it, I’m either ruined or saved.
The only sadness I have is towards my family, who still retain hope that I will one day move back to DC and be closer to them, but if anything, I’m more certain than ever that it’s just not the place for me. I’m more than happy to visit them from time to time, but I see DC as a dead city, and based on the many conversations I had while there, it’s dead to a lot of other men too.
Read Next: 15 Reasons Why Washington DC Sucks For Guys
I spent five weeks in the Siberian city of Tomsk and two weeks in Moscow. Here are my thoughts:
There are some differences, but they are so minor that you can go to Moscow having read Bang Ukraine and still know what you’re doing.
Aesthetic differences: Ukrainian girls are more petite and thin. Russian girls have thicker lips and butts. Russian girls are more varied in appearance while there is more homogeny in Ukraine. Advantage: Russia
Personality differences: Ukrainian girls have more restrained personalities upon first meeting, but when they open up, they are similar to Russian girls. Ukrainian girls will dig into my background to see if I’m a Turkish sex tourist, but most Russian girls I met didn’t do this. Advantage: Russia
Game differences: Russian girls give better initial responses to your approach and are more likely to give you their number from a shorter conversation, but are not easier to get into bed. I also experienced more flakes in Russia, meaning I had to get more numbers to schedule one date than in Ukraine. Advantage: Ukraine by a hair
You will not find much in the way of value in Russia. Food and entertainment is pricey, especially in the big cities. I stayed in Moscow for 12 days and spent $2700 (that included $100 a day in lodging from Airbnb). Even a date to a basic cafe for coffee and cake will cost you about $25, as opposed to $8 in Ukraine. I calculated that I would need at least $4,000 a month in Moscow to have the lifestyle that could be had in Poland or Ukraine for about $1,500 (or less).
Russian women, while very pretty, are not significantly better than Ukrainian women to justify that expense. Polish women, while definitely not as pretty, are easier to get into bed and more easygoing. If Russia was priced the same as Ukraine or Poland, I believe that Russia would be the best choice, but we can’t exclude cost from the equation. Moscow was just as expensive to me as Washington DC, and by the end of my stay in Moscow, I couldn’t wait to leave for the sole reason of giving relief to my wallet from $7 Earl Grey teas in cafes.
Face control is where bouncers eye you up and down to see if you have the right look to enter the club. This is common even in mid-level Moscow clubs. The problem with this is that it’s hard to make a plan to be in a particular venue because you may be denied entry and have no backup.
I was face controlled twice in Moscow. Ironically, both times were when I was with a girl (she was pretty to me, but maybe not to the bouncers). When I was alone or with another guy, I was not denied entry, but I was suited up each time. In other words, to go out in Moscow I had to dress up whether I liked it or not to decrease the chance of being face controlled. This was extremely tiring because sometimes I just want to wear a v-neck and jeans and hit the bar for a couple drinks.
Face control is also a concept apparently used by Russian women. You will know within 15 seconds if she doesn’t mind your look or not. There are two foreign ideals to a Russian woman: the German ideal (fair complexion) and the Italian ideal (dark complexion). If you approach a girl with the wrong ideal, you will get nowhere, but if you have the right one, she will let you spit some game. Almost all the interactions I had in Moscow that led to at least a phone number exchange was on girls who expressed some interest in Italy, similar to how Polish girls would inquire if I was Spanish. These experiences make me wonder if game is nothing more than a tool to be used on a girl who doesn’t object to our general look.
Muscovites have a YOLO approach to partying on the weekend, drinking well past their budget and staying until the sun comes up. The ratio is pretty decent and you will see the most beautiful women in the world. The problem is that you’ll have to grind it out just as if you were in an American club. Foreigners are not especially prized and when you add in the high drink prices, which suggest that clubs are only frequented by the upper middle class, you’ll be spending a lot of time and money to in all likelihood just get a number of a slightly snobby 7 who’s not really hurting to meet men. It doesn’t help that there is no one-night stand culture where you’ll get a freebie bang every few nights out. Girls who are average looking are no easier than their hotter counterparts.
If you like clubs, you’ll have fun here, but as a way to meet women, day game is so much superior that if I lived in Moscow I wouldn’t go out much at night to meet women. Then again, I don’t really like the clubs in Ukraine either.
Russia has the slowest sex speed I’ve encountered. I was stunned to be denied kisses on the first date by girls who would agree to a second. Many expats in Moscow I met told me that there is a run-up time of a month until the bangs start rolling in, but for a quick weekend of sex, I wouldn’t come to Russia. Focus on Scandinavia instead. We’ve all heard stories of Russian girls being promiscuous, but in my seven weeks in the country, I did not find this at all.
If you have a particular fetish for Russian women and have a large bankroll, Russia could very well be your poosy paradise, but you’d have to commit to staying. While much damage can be done in many countries from a two week stay, I’d advise you to stay at least one month in Russia. However, I can’t promise you’ll receive a great reward compared to just about anywhere else in Eastern Europe. Out of all the Eastern European countries I’ve been to, I had my lowest results in Russia, even though I’m almost conversational in Russian. Ukraine is a better place for me.
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A common belief in the manosphere is that men in Russia or Ukraine are super alpha and should be held up as examples for Western men on how to act. They take no shit from women. They are firm and direct with their demands. They ooze masculinity that women love. After living in Russia and Ukraine for over 9 months, I can safely state that the picture is more complicated than that.
Slavic men give a great veneer of alpha to a Western observer witnessing a stoic ugly dude with stiff body language walking with a hot girl, but if you dig deeper, you’ll find several beta traits. For example:
—Most are momma boys who are unable to cut the cord. It’s harder for them to live independently than a Western man.
—They are risk averse. While I’m sure you have seen crazy Youtube videos of drunk provincial Russians, educated Russians will not enter a transaction or deal with such a foolhardy or suicidal attitude. You also won’t find a Russian man decide to up and move to another country for no other reason than YOLO like many Westerners.
—They use a lot of compliments on women. They are not as profuse as Spanish and Italian men, but they are more compliment heavy than Western men. Many of them use compliments or drink buying to get conversations in the club started, with obviously no guarantee of success.
—They regularly buy their women flowers and chocolates. Because of that, girls get annoyed when I don’t do the same since it’s such a common behavior. You’re supposed to do it just because, not only for special occasions.
—They spend a lot of time in the friend zone. It’s quite common for relationships in this part of the world to start as friendship. Unlike American men, however, Russian and Ukrainian men are more likely to escape the friend zone, but it’s still not a certainty.
—They primarily want girlfriends, not notches. The guys are prone to cheat (just like their girls), but most are serial monogamists. They get a girlfriend and spend most days of the week with her, developing a co-dependent type of relationship that often leads to marriage.
On the other hand, I’m not denying their alpha traits:
—They don’t put pussy on the pedestal like Western men. They clearly have a model of abundance when it comes to women. They can have this model because beautiful women are in true abundance.
—They aren’t afraid to escalate. They will touch and try to kiss quickly, and if the girl refuses, they will feign a look of surprise that says, “Why not?” They don’t care about the responses a girl gives them during an approach. Instead, they run their game program of spitting bullshit, buying little items, complimenting, and then escalating.
I’m not saying that Slavic men are beta, but if you account for their whole being, the average Slavic man is only marginally more alpha than the average Western man. The most alpha Western men would hold their own against the most alpha Slavic men.
In Russia I met some hardcore beta males who oneitis and pedestalization problems. If you read the manosphere all day, you’d think that a Russian beta doesn’t exist, but we’re beginning to see a more hipster culture with ambiguously gay stylings entrenching itself in Moscow and St. Petersburg among the middle class. When you think of a Slavic man, you’re probably imagining a gangster, gopnik, or oligarch, but the average Russian man on the street is not a true alpha and only wants a good 9-5 job and cute girlfriend. Don’t make the mistake of viewing the absolute top Slavic men as representative of them all.
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A common question I’ve been seeing in the past six months is guys asking me which country or city they should visit. Many guys are taking their first international trip and want to make it a success, especially since they may only get one opportunity a year. While I completely understand this desire, their question can not be reasonably answered. There are simply too many individual variables involved.
When you ask someone on the internet which country he should visit, chances are he does not know your appearance, personality, game style, vibe, strengths, weaknesses, age, career background, social ability, level of masculinity, nationality, and humor type. He also doesn’t know the type of girl you’re most attracted to, which can range over several additional variables. And even if he did know all these things, there is no way he is qualified to state which country is best for you, unless you’re his sort of genetic twin.
Many years ago, I received a lot of questions from guys that went like this: “I like this one girl in school. What’s the best way to approach her?” They asked this question because they were emotionally invested in the girl and wanted to guarantee against failure. I see some similarities with guys asking me today which country they should visit. Travel can be quite expensive and so they don’t want to have a bad trip, but if you talk to any guy who has been traveling for a while in search of his poosy paradise, you’ll understand that preventing failure is impossible and simply a part of the travel game.
You will visit countries that are great to you and you will visit some that are awful, and even with my travel experience I could not prevent a disastrous summer trip to Turkey. Thousands of dollars and many weeks of time will be spent in locations that are worse than your backyard, in spite of your best efforts to prevent that from happening.
Travel is an expensive, time-consuming, and risky endeavor. It’s not for guys who are anxious about failure, because odds are you will fail, especially on your first few trips. Pick a country where you are interested in the women, where you don’t look like the local men, and try your best. It’s going to be a learning experience that may hopefully have a dose of success to make it worth it, but if you’re new to this, chances are it will not be amazing. There is no magic place that is great for everyone (some guys were miserable in countries I did well in and vice versa). There are so many individual variables that you can only use the experiences of others as an afterthought to helping you, not the main determinant. In the end, you’ll have to pick the places that you want to go and are ready to invest in.
If you like white girls, try somewhere in Eastern Europe. If you like Latin girls, try somewhere in South America. If you like Asian girls, try somewhere in Southeast Asia. You’ll have to take a stab in the dark, go somewhere, learn from that experience, and then choose again for your next trip based on the increased knowledge you now have. I can give you general travel help or share specific advice on countries I’ve been to, but when it comes to choosing, that’s your decision alone. Stop asking where to go and stop trying to guarantee against failure, because it won’t work. Take the plunge and see what happens.
No experience in life can take from you without also giving, and no experience can give without taking. One occurs on the surface and is easily visible, but the other takes more reflection, helping you identify the truth, meaning, and value of your life. I had a recent experience in Turkey that did this for me.
In late August I was in the resort city of Alanya, Turkey, a place that was supposed to give me a refreshing break from Eastern Europe and its women. I booked the eleven day trip soon after getting dumped by Anna, with the idea of banging slutty Scandinavian girls on vacation, but I probably did this as a response to some confusing emotions about what I really wanted from women.
The environment of Alanya for banging, it turned out, was the worst I’ve seen since visiting Bolivia back in 2007. It was worse than Washington DC, Copenhagen, and Riga, cities I’ve spared no scorn for. It was so bad I tried to change my flight to leave sooner, but since it was the absolute peak of summer, all flights back home to Ukraine were full.
The negatives of Turkey were numerous:
I knew I’d have a hill to climb in Turkey since I look Turkish (my bloodline is half Iranian and half Armenian), but I grossly underestimated how bad of a responses I’d get. I was treated by girls like a t-shirt or kebab vendor, just another brown man to brush off for the day. It didn’t help that Turkish men had great clown game, and were applying it with passion on girls I wouldn’t touch.
Even worse is that I went solo. On the handful of interactions I made progress on, I couldn’t isolate in the end. Rolling solo in a regular city isn’t so bad, but in a resort location it was the death knell. In eleven days I got nothing, and to add insult to injury, I got some type of infection that holed me up in a little hotel room for several days watching music videos and counting down to when I could return to the relative poosy paradise of Ukraine. It was the worst vacation I’ve ever taken.
If you’ve been reading me for the past couple of years, you’ll have noticed I’m not exactly sure as to the best way to proceed. Combined with the fact that I’ve accomplished what I had set out to do as dreamed by my 25-year-old self, it’s no surprise I’m lacking in direction. My experience in Turkey, along with fleeting clues I’ve recently processed in Russia, Poland, and Ukraine, has made that direction much more clear. Here is what I’m now sure of:
It’s not enough to state your goals, work towards them, and call it a day. Experience changes your desires and your desires affect your experiences, reacting with each other in an imperfect and unbalanced equation that can leave you absolutely sure of your direction and path one year, but lost the next. A jarring experience like the one I recently had in Turkey forced me to evaluate everything while I sat in my hotel room counting down the days until I could leave. These meditations told me to stop being so spoiled, appreciate the lifestyle that I’ve been able to build up, and to accept that the grass I’ve already found in Eastern Europe is in all likelihood the greenest based on who I am as a man.
The big problems of my life have been solved, and until those new problems appear, life will now become about receiving pleasure from dutiful work, hobbies that challenge me, and connections from both men and women. Thank you, Turkey, for helping me understand that.
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Spain 2006
I flew into Barcelona for my third ever trip abroad. I stayed in a hostel, excited to be surrounded by foreigners, especially young European girls. Through sheer persistence, I was able to out-compete the other males to get a cock rub from a pretty Belgian girl on my first night there.
On the third night I came down with a horrible cold that developed quickly into a sore throat, mild fever, body aches, congestion, and headache, but I refused to stay in. Indoor smoking was allowed in Spain back then so my throat became raw and inflamed. I did not feel well.
While on a bar crawl not even halfway through the trip, someone told me that my eyes were leaking green boogers. I contracted a bad case of bacterial conjunctivitis and had to ditch my contacts. Still a travel newbie, I did not have the mind to pack my glasses. My nose was blocked, my voice was starting to descend into a croak, and I was nearly blind, unable to see clearly more than three feet in front of me. Even worse, I was developing a dry hacking cough that would give me 20 second fits, turning my whole face red. My body needed to rest.
But I did not rest and I did not stay in for one night. I was hungry to experience Europe and get action from European babes, knowing full well I’d return to Washington DC for god knows how long. As long as my heart was beating, I would keep working. I went on to get some light intimacy from three other girls, and the only thought of mine that I remember from that time was, “Why do these girls want to kiss me when it appears like I have a serious case of tuberculosis?”
When I came back from the trip, I had to visit two doctors to clear up my health issues. It took three weeks to feel right again, but I had no regrets, because the success I had, which was rather minor in hindsight, was more than enough to push me to quit my job less than one year later.
Turkey 2014
Fast forward eight years. I planned a trip to get away not from Washington DC but from Ukraine, a place that has the most beautiful girls I’ve encountered in my travels. My complaints were that they took too much time to get into bed and I was tired of speaking in Russian. I wanted something easy and more slutty. I figured that I could head to a Turkish resort town and fornicate with a handful of sloppy Scandinavian girls.
Unfortunately, one million horny Turkish men had the exact same idea as me. I became just another cock in a massive sea of cocks. My first night was tough and my second night I put in only a half-shift, coming home early because I couldn’t find many opportunities. On my third night I was ready to call it quits, and tried to change my return flight. All flights were booked, so I was forced to stay another week. I did an approach here, an approach there, but nothing that I’d consider even medium effort.
On the fifth day I contracted a cold (I always seem to get one soon after arriving in a new country). It wasn’t nearly as bad as the one I contracted in Spain, but it was the excuse I needed to cease even the minor effort I was putting in. For two days I holed myself up in my hotel room watching movies and music videos. On the seventh day I ventured out but did not do one approach. Not until my last night out did I scrounge up a bit more effort, managing seven approaches, but it wasn’t enough. I didn’t get any action at all in Turkey, eight years after a trip of similar length where I got much more. It’s true that I went to the wrong place at the wrong time, but nothing that my training and skill shouldn’t have been able to overcome.
Somebody might say, “Well, you looked better when you were younger.” I doubt it: I looked way worse in Spain than in Turkey. It’s actually a miracle in Spain I got any action at all, especially considering that by the end I sounded like a dying man. No, it’s not appearance, because even at my ugliest with a homeless Jesus look I was getting laid in Washington DC, one of the harder environments in America to score in. In Turkey I was at my peak in terms of game, wisdom, intelligence, and not that far off in terms of my peak in physical appearance, and yet I utterly bombed.
The answer lies with my desire. In the past, I was willing to do whatever it took to get laid. I have worked extremely hard at that goal and have been able to enjoy the fruit over many years, but from that fruit I have grown fat, lazy, and spoiled. My drive to work has atrophied. Consider that I booked the trip to Turkey specifically because I wanted something easy—because I didn’t want to work! Nature punished me accordingly, with not even one scrap of intimacy from a woman, not even one kiss, while in Spain it rewarded me with far more in spite of lower game, a pumpkin appearance, and bad health.
What will you do if I put a mountain in between you and your goals? Will you take a few steps up, exclaim the mountain is too tall only to turn back, or will you seek out supplies and equipment so that you can scale it? In Spain, I climbed the mountain. It was hard, and I needed a lot of time to recover, but I did it. In Turkey I looked at the mountain, complained about it, blamed Turkish men, and then sat at its base as I watched others attempt what I did not have the will to do, all because they wanted it more.
In any goal you attempt in life, you will not only encounter a mountain, but also large rivers, forests full of predators, and deserts lacking water. If your instinct is to turn back from these obstacles, I promise that you will not succeed. Any time you look for a shortcut, any time you look for a way not to work, you will fail in your goal. For me to succeed today, I don’t need more information or knowledge, but the desire of yesterday, the will to traverse anything put in front of me. Until I regain this hunger, until we all have an irrational and pathological need to succeed, until the mountain is nothing to us, we will not be victorious.
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There were a lot of negatives in my recent trip to Turkey, but a positive was being able to witness how Turkish men work in groups to get laid. For men who are not allowed to pick up their local women due to cultural and social barriers, I was duly impressed with their wingmanship and coordination. I will now attempt to dissect the game and wingman ability of Turkish men.
One guy is the “translator,” meaning he has the best English and facilitates conversation with foreign women. Another is the “lead clown” with the best energy and dance skills. And yet another is the “bouncer” who keeps an eye on outsider men and informs the group of any possible intruders. Instead of all the guys in the group running game independently without accounting for what their wings are doing, Turkish men maximize their individual strengths to ensure group success. There is no lone wolf game—it’s a team effort.
There’s not much subtlety about the Turkish approach. As if performing a blitzkrieg attack, they all go in simultaneously to announce to the women that they have arrived and are definitely in pursuit. They begin smiling, touching, and joking almost immediately, usually with a plan to get the girls dancing as quickly as possible. Their initial game is heavily based on the physical.
Long chats in the club are not what Turkish men prefer. While they are actually able to run this type of game, their go-to weapon at night is the dance floor. Many of them dance surprisingly well, practicing for years as teenagers to Turkish music until making the switch to more mainstream house and hip hop. Since women are in the club to primarily dance, their strategy yields results.
Turkish men understand that the true value of foreign women, especially from the West, is to serve as sex dolls. They don’t insult these girls or call them names, but through their actions, they make it clear that sex is the goal on their mind. They may lie to women about wanting to take trips with them, among other beta declarations, but it is just to build comfort after attraction is established. They have in fact no desire to wife up these girls and simply want to use them for the sexual release that they can not have with their own women.
Turkish men keep an eye on other men just as much as the women. They fully understand that any fish they catch must be kept clear from the hooks of other fishermen. One thing they do is position themselves around women they are talking to in a way that completely blocks any other man who may want to try an approach.
If a man does penetrate through their defenses, they immediately re-group to eject him, either by distracting him (with the same energy they use on the girls), or getting the bouncer of the group to deliver a not-so-subtle admonishment of “these girls are with us.” It’s extremely effective since it doesn’t rely on the kindness of women to be cold to interloping men.
I’m in full agreement with their strategy here: if you’re just starting a conversation with a girl in a club, you must immediately shut down any attempts by strange men, even if it makes you look needy. Only when a girl’s attraction for you is solid can you be more aloof.
There is a scrap of honor among Turkish men in that they don’t interrupt you if you’re talking to a girl (as long as you appear Turkish). I have not seen them try to pull a robbery, as horny as they are. In a club I saw a Turkish man inform a random German man that his girl is wandering off and needed to be watched more carefully. I’ve never seen that type of behavior in America. It’s strange that Turkish men are more thirsty on the surface than American guys, but they are much more averse to cockblocking or watching another guy’s girl get stolen.
There’s taking one for the team, and then there’s the Turkish version of it. I have seen good looking Turkish men wing their brothers with horrendous women—all night long. I’ll talk to the ugly girl for 10 minutes or so to help my buddy out while a Turkish man stays with the grenade for the whole night and with such an energy that it appears he really does like her, even though it is a physical impossibility due to her monstrous appearance.
Turkish men take bros before hoes to a level I haven’t seen, and as long as one girl in a group is pretty, all the men will give it their all on each of her friends. It gets to the point where if the hottest girl wants to leave, the ugly ones will convince her to stay because they are being pursued so vigorously by men who are much more handsome than they are pretty.
Turkish men aren’t so needy that they are buying drinks all night long, but they definitely do try to lock down girls with a strategic purchase of a bottle of liquor. Their funds are lower than other European players, so they have to pool their money to keep the party going, which is why you tend to see them in packs. It’s another example of working in groups to minimize individual weakness.
They don’t accept the first no that a girl gives them, even if it’s absolutely certain to an outside observer that that no won’t be changed. This feature of their game, more than anything else, has given them a bad reputation as hyper-persistent, and even I don’t see its effectiveness.
While persisting past a no late in the game when you’re close to sex is important, Turkish men ignore no’s that come right upon the approach, and once in a set with a girl, they will not leave unless the girl pushes him away or ignores him completely. This can be painful to watch, and even worse is that you know the girl will be much less receptive if you approach her afterwards because the Turk put her in a more sour mood.
Their goal isn’t necessarily for all men of the group to get laid—it’s just for one member to score. If he is successful, on the next night he’s going to sacrifice several hours with the ugliest beast in the bar so that his boy can get laid. They have a complete selflessness that I haven’t seen in other men, all because they see getting laid as a long-term team effort instead of a short-term individual sport. The sacrifice they make for their fellow man is admirable.
Watching groups of Turkish men in a club is like witnessing a coordinated dance. If you’re solo in a club with a lot of Turkish men, you should consider leaving. The synergy they bring forth makes it hard to compete and they greatly increase the bitch shield of women they fail with. The only problem with adopting Turkish game is that it clashes with a Western man’s individualistic values. We’re too selfish to sacrifice entire nights on nuclear grenades, especially since the idea of friendship and loyalty in the West is not what it once was. In the USA, it’s more likely to happen that you sacrifice for your friend one night and then the next night he gets overly drunk and inadvertently becomes a cockblocker. In Turkey this simply does not occur.
From watching them work, I must say that their overall game is better than Spanish men, who have become pussified in the past decade, though not yet better than Italian men. I haven’t seen non-whoremonger Greek men in action but I assume they would place somewhere in the middle in a ranking of Mediterranean lotharios.
Turkish men get a bad reputation in the world, but they do some things that are worth emulating when operating in a club with friends. Nonetheless, let’s count our blessings that we are not in Turkey and have to rely solely on foreign women to get laid.
Don’t Miss: Are Turkish Girls Worth It?
I recently spent 11 eternal days in Alanya, Turkey, a resort that is two hours away by bus from Antalya. Unfortunately for me, the trip was worse than my previous European summer excursions to Hvar, Croatia, and Odessa. Actually, it was worse than just about anywhere I’ve been in the past five years, even Riga, Copenhagen, and Washington DC. If you’re considering a summer trip to Turkey, you need to keep the following in mind:
In spite of any propagandic notion from the American media that Turkey is Westernizing, the sex roles remain nearly as strict and traditional since Ataturk’s time. There is little casual sex or dating. Instead of one-night stands you have six-month stands, where you commit before fornicating. Turkish men are also not allowed to “pick up” Turkish girls because word may get back to their relatives, in which case they’d be shamed by their elders.
If a Turkish man doesn’t have a steady girlfriend with the intent to marry her, his dick is cleaner than the air in space. Foreign girls are his best shot at getting laid at all, and the cheapest option for him is to take a bus to a Turkish resort and go full retard on foreign girls. These men want it way more than you.
Most are with their families or boyfriends, and the ones you see at night tend to be older than 30 (Turkish spinsters, I imagine). Your best shot at approaching younger Turkish girls in Alanya is during the day, when they are allowed by their parental units to take short trips to the store, but since she is lodging with her family, you have small odds at isolating her at night.
Younger girls in clubs are heavily guarded by male friends and relatives (one night I was threatened by a Turkish guy in Turkish when I approached a Turkish girl). As long as these guardians are around, she won’t entertain your approach.
The temperature during the day reaches over 95. You won’t want to do much besides sit under the air conditioner or go in the water, but even the latter provides little relief. I began to think it was a bit silly to pay a lot of money to bake underneath a sun that prevents you from enjoying whatever activity you end up doing. I can understand why the Scandinavians do it, since their winter lasts eleven or so months a year, but I’m not exactly hurting for sun.
I think I’ve done a poor job killing the false stereotype that Swedish girls are blonde bombshells. While their genetics are pristine, modern Swedish girls look like tattooed burritos. The most beautiful girl in the world is probably Swedish, but her more numerous variant—the chubby Swedish girl with burly shoulders and a rectangle face—disgraces her ancestral line. Nonetheless, you’ll never see a Turkish man pass on a Swedish girl, no matter how grotesque and vile. That makes me wonder if Turkey is a backup plan for white women who can’t compete in their own lands.
They tend to vacation through package deals that put them in all-inclusive resorts far from the center. Most of them travel with their boyfriends and families, though once in a while you can catch a pair of above-average Russian girls in the club until the hotel bus driver comes to fetch them when you’re only halfway through your seduction.
I’ve heard second-hand stories of Russian girls going crazy on vacation, but I’ve yet to see this. And get this: many Turkish guys speak Russian. Nothing stops them from getting at girls of different nationalities. I’m convinced they study Swedish, Russian, and English in the off-season when they have to power down their penis for the winter months.
If you can pass for Spanish, Greek, or Italian, you will be dime a dozen here. It doesn’t help that many Turkish guys are quite good looking with decent style, fashionable haircuts, and big muscles, suggesting that Turkish man are catching up with their Mediterranean counterparts. You get absolutely no exotic boost if you’re a swarthy man, and girls will think you’re just another desperate Turk, making them the prize while you beg for scraps.
Even if you’re a blonde alabaster man, you still have to work hard, because the environment is such that girls can pick and choose which men they want to talk to, and that’s even assuming they are still in the mood to chat after being approach by ten Turkish men who instantly go physical and don’t like taking no for an answer.
My first two nights out I couldn’t find many opportunities on decent girls. I spent some afternoons at the pool and had far better interactions, but quality was still a problem. If I were to do it all over again, I would just book a room in the largest resort around, even if it’s far from the center, and just game all day in the pool.
These guys have great rapport game in that you feel comfortable with them quickly. Funny thing is that I thought my mom was just hating on me when I was teenager by saying I was “cold” like my dad, but she’s absolutely right—compared to the average Turkish man I’m robotic and boring. This is probably why I passed on South America to live in Eastern Europe, where people better match my demeanor.
The going rate for a vodka on the rocks in most nightclubs is $10 US. If you’re Turkish, however, you get a lower rate from a secret menu that tourists don’t have access to. You can probably also skip out on some club cover charges while tourists can’t.
The locals see you as a wallet, in spite of their smiles and physical affection. The Turks have optimized their tourism game to extract money from you in the most efficient way possible. Besides the five times daily call for prayer and a million kebab shops, there isn’t much room left for authentic Turkish culture.
Conclusion
I took this trip while I was living in Odessa. I went from a place with extremely high talent to one that had little. I had not much choice but to use this trip more as an opportunity to relax, practice making Youtube videos, and meditate on how insanely lucky I am to live in Eastern Europe where the women enjoy my company, are exceedingly pretty, and are often open to making sexual communion with me.
I can only recommend Turkey to average women who want to feel pretty and couples who want a romantic getaway. Unless you find a secret resort hotel or spot where you know the pickings will be good, you take a huge risk by going here in the summer.
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I’ve recently written of my intense disappointment in returning to a country in which the women and culture are becoming more like what we have in America. Here are six negative changes I’ve noticed in Poland since my first visit in 2011:
Young men and women are disfiguring themselves with the typical sort of tattoo scribbles that is already epidemic in America. Polish people are deciding to pursue their individualist side by permanently drawing obnoxious things on their body instead of actually achieving something worthwhile that makes them superior to the common man.
Tattoos are tame compared to the sudden, prevalent, and frankly shocking use of ear gauges, whereby people irreversibly stretch and mutilate their ear lobes to appear cool. While it’s possible for the occasional tattoo to look good, ear gauges never look good, and make it seem like the victim is hoping to gain membership in a backwards jungle tribe that has yet to encounter electricity. Since tattoos and ear gauges go hand in hand, you can only imagine the freakshows Poland now has on display.
Displaying your homosexuality used to be culturally forbidden and even dangerous in an former Soviet satellite like Poland, but you’re starting to see an increase in guys who are gay, proud, and loud. Just last month for the first time in Eastern Europe ever I saw two men passionately kissing in front of a pizza shop. If what’s happening on USA soil is any indication, being gay in Poland will soon be seen as hip, trendy, and progressive. Both men and women will experiment with it, as if catching a sort of virus, and step back from more traditional and humanizing features of Polish culture that have historically been centered around religion.
The only country I had to do the ‘vomit slalom’ was Iceland. This is where I had to look down while walking around the club district at night during the weekend so I didn’t step in vomit because of how common Icelanders puke on the street. This didn’t use to be needed in Poland, but now it does.
Both men and women are competing to consume near-lethal amounts of alcohol while partying. This is so consistent, especially among the men, that a good way I display value to women is to simply be sober at 3am and speak in complete sentences without slurring or swaying my body, but now even girls have so taken to drink that it’s getting harder to have normal conversations with them in night venues than in the recent past.
The technology virus has infected Poland. Most Poles who own a smartphone are unable to endure a minute or two of downtime without obsessively checking something on their phone or distracting themselves with music. A girl who would normally look up to the person who walked into the room is now looking through her Facebook account or playing a silly game, oblivious to her surroundings. While girls don’t yet have multiple online dating accounts, that’s just a matter of time.
Human interaction in Poland is being steadily replaced by technology that has America’s narcissistic and brain-dead ways of behaving built right into the device. No formal learning required.
Polish women have always been feminist in that they wanted their own career alongside family, but now they are throwing family under the bus. I’ve begun noticing Polish girls shaming their friends who decide to get married early, something you would never see in Ukraine and Russia.
Even worse is that I’m encountering a lot of Polish girls who speak of long-term travel and “Euro trips.” While it’s possible for men to find themselves through travel, the only thing a girl finds is exotic cock. Polish girls are racing to become corporate whores at the same time they’re becoming actual whores for sexy Mediterranean men who spit a smooth game.
What amazes me is the speed at which a culture can degrade. I was so unsure that the observations above were objective that I had to discuss them with other men to be sure—both Polish and foreign. They’ve confirmed that the changes I’ve seen are really occurring, that Poland is adapting the worst of the West and that there isn’t much to be done about it. The women will lead the way to the bottom and the men will have no choice but to keep up with them in order to squeeze out the last drop of genuine intimacy left before Western degeneracy crushes them completely.
There is no stopping the decline of the sort that Poland is experiencing. It’s too hard to change the minds of a large percentage of the population who have been deceived in thinking that the West’s soulless value system is their path to happiness and riches. When they approach the end of the rainbow they’ll be surprised to find that there is no pot of gold, and that they’ve lost what can never be regained.[culturewar]
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I went to New York recently for a two night “business” trip. As short as it was, I kept my eyes open to digest as much as I could about the city and its people. Here are a few observations I made:
Unlike in Washington DC, you can clearly feel the harsh effects of the city on the people. Based on how expensive it is to live in New York, to have a good life you have to work like a dog with little in the way of breaks for reflection or relaxation. I suspect that a lot of people are living paycheck to paycheck without much in savings, and so are committed to this grind whether they like it or not. The allure of living in New York has essentially captured their body and turned them into a human mule that must never stop laboring and hustling. I observed the same with people in Moscow.
If a New Yorker’s income goes up, they invariably increase the standard at which they live to keep up with the Joneses, so it seems that even if you “win” in New York by getting a job that pays at least $150,000 a year, you still lose in the sense that you won’t accumulate much in the way of wealth, and will be two or three months away from destitution if you happen to lose your job and have trouble finding a new one.
A lot of people have asked me, “Roosh, how you can play the game for so many years without getting tired of it?” Because my job is not a grind, and chasing pussy will never approach the level of grind of labor. I can stay in the game because my life is mostly free of stress in other areas, meaning I can tolerate the high amounts of nonsense I get from pursuing women for the length of time I have. If you’re getting worn down by your job, you will have little leftover for the other grinds that come with a man’s ambitious desires.
While walking around New York, I was paranoid of getting hit by a car, so I looked both ways before crossing streets and generally followed the “Don’t Walk” signals. I was shocked to see so many people walking while texting in such an environment. I don’t know how often pedestrians get hit in New York, but it seemed like they were putting their lives in danger.
In the cafes I went to, it was a rule that everyone was staring at their iphone or tablet screen, and even in meetings between friends, a person would keep one eye on their friend and one eye on their phone. The smartphone is now a conversational aid, crutch, and prop that must be nearby to show a picture, news article, status update, or map. Conversations with friends have become multimedia presentations. I’ve railed against smartphones in the past, but they are now too intertwined in the social fiber of America that nothing much can be done about the problem.
A lot of guys are capitalizing on smartphones by mastering dick pic game or using high-tech bots on popular dating apps, but there is no joy for me to use such a device beyond a basic business or communication need, so I accept I will miss out on some sexual benefits from its widespread use.
If you want to live in this city and enjoy it to the fullest, you should already come as a made man with over $300,000 a year in income or a couple million in the bank. Of course you can live in New York for a fraction of that, and find a niche that does give you happiness, but New York allows you to live a regal lifestyle if you have the bankroll.
In the Polish city I’m in, doubling my income would not change my lifestyle one bit, because the city does not have the amenities, Dubai whores, or luxury accommodations that the money could obviously be spent on. The most expensive club cover charge I’ve found is $13 and a cocktail drink price never passes $10.
If you decide to live in New York, there are two options that await you:
a) Become a part of the grind for a short period. Get a humble apartment, work for the man, count your quarters, and squeeze in some easy bangs. After a year or two, when you realize you’ve saved no money and have few—if any—deep relationships, go somewhere else to achieve more financial independence and a higher level of social meaning that takes you away from more shallow pursuits.
b) Accumulate further wealth on top of your already high wealth. Let New York live for you instead of you living for New York. Live like a modern king with a lifestyle that your ancestors couldn’t even dream of.
While my income is high enough to live in New York on favorable terms, my financial cushion would be shrunk to such a degree that I wouldn’t be entirely comfortable.
My sample size is tiny due to the shortness of my trip (about 10 approaches), but the positive reactions I got from those 10 in an eight-hour period surpass near all the approaches I did in Washington DC for an entire month when I visited last year.
The girls I approached were insanely receptive and genuinely wanted to talk to me. We say in these parts that girls have a lot of options thanks to internet dating while losing the ability to have a conversation if we approach them, but it seems that in New York the dating market is exceptional in some ways due to local demographic conditions and the fact that straight man act effeminate. The girls seem to be craving a confident guy who doesn’t put them on the pedestal and has internationally renowned clown banter.
Not a single girl blew me out, insulted me, or hit me with a feminist talking point. Only one girl looked at her iphone during the conversation. They asked me plenty of personal questions. They did way more talking and helped move the communication forward. One 22-year-old girl approached me in the bar and let me escort her away from her friends for a sloppy make-out session (to be young again!). Another girl gave me her number and then sent me a text asking for a date the next night. The interactions stalled, sadly, when girls found out I was a tourist and staying in a hotel, especially since a couple of those girls would have needed a date to take the intimacy further.
Again, the sample size is small, so no grand conclusions can be made, but if I can duplicate this reception just once in a while, that means girls in New York like me more than girls in Poland. In Poland, a huge number of girls are already in a serious relationship and aren’t as eager to upgrade, so most of my approaches stall for that reason alone. In New York, it seemed that every girl I talked to was sexually available from not being in a serious relationship.
This may be my ego talking, but I’m confident I can get both higher quality and quantity in New York than in my current city in Poland. This isn’t due to just me but the local conditions where New York girls are ready for sex with a mature man who doesn’t act like a fag. It was also interesting to note that girls give quite a bit of eye contact, possibly just as much as in Poland.
Upon returning to Poland, I did a batch of ten approaches and had lower results than the ten in New York. One girl in Poland even rolled her eyes at me, a harsh response that a New York girl did not once give. Poland was amazing for me in 2011, but it’s clear that the tide has turned, and the benefit it offers for me has become mostly financial.
It’s interesting to note that one of the reasons I left the USA is to get a better standard of woman, but it seems that I may have passed a point where I can now do better in New York than abroad. My years of international experience has possibly made me a more attractive catch back in the States. I would have to stay much longer to be sure, but the idea of living in a Western city like New York wouldn’t be a nightmare scenario like in the past.
I calculated that I would need at least $6,000 a month cash to transfer my current lifestyle from Poland to New York, which is four times what I’m currently spending now. Even with that amount, I’d still have to watch my budget and be careful about buying too many rounds of drinks for my friends when I’m in a nice bar and having fun, unlike in Poland where I can make it rain all night without any concern. I would receive two main immediate benefits if I lived in New York: (1) unlimited options for entertainment and easy fornication, and (2) a large social circle of male peers.
The second reason appeals the most to me, but such friendships will invariably entail late nights out, excessive alcohol use, and chasing women. I wonder if it’s a good idea to slip back into that lifestyle, one that I already did before. At nearly 36 years of age, will pursuing more notches and going out to bars three times a week really give me more in life than focusing on my work and being alone in a tame Polish city? As you know, sequels are never better than the original, so I wonder how quickly I’d get tired of it.
I believe New York would cause me to regress into a pursuit of hedonistic delights of the flesh and drink without furthering my development as a man. While my current Polish city is not a village by any means (the metro area has a population of 1 million), it’s harder to lose focus here than in New York, and I’m afraid that my horny constitution is not yet strong enough to resist the unlimited pleasures that New York would offer me.
I know more than anyone that a city or country can change rapidly. As I’ve shared recently, Polish culture is currently on the decline along with most other parts of Eastern Europe. It may happen within 2-5 years where Poland degrades to such a point that I must move to another area of the world. Eastern Europe may merely be a way station for a destination I do not yet know. I’m not sure what the future will hold, but this is the first year since I left the States over five years ago that the idea of moving back wouldn’t fill me with reluctance and dread.
If I ever do move to New York, and it’s not a temporary plan, you can interpret that as me giving up on all notion of ever having a family of my own. It means I must have decided that during the period of humanity I happen to exist in, a life of expensive pleasure is the best outcome to pursue.
In the spring I went to New York City for two days to appear on the Dr. Oz show. The trip was fun enough that I wondered if maybe I should consider living in the city, but a more recent trip of four days destroyed that notion. When not on a psychological high from appearing on national television, all the flaws of New York hit me hard enough that I’m sure it won’t be my future home. Here are the reasons why…
It’s hard to walk more than two blocks without being assaulted by an offensive odor, either from sewage or garbage. One of the reasons is that New York doesn’t put their garbage in containers to lessen the odors. Third world sanitation practices haven’t yet made its way to the city.
Have you not had a headache in a while? Would you like your mind to be constantly drowned out by loud noise from trains, cars, and crowds of people? Then move to New York where even in the middle of the night you will not escape the city that never stops honking. The only way to combat New York noise is through more noise, so people are essentially forced to wear headphones with loud music for much of the day. This greatly degrades their ability to think.
A huge chunk of your waking life in New York City can be boiled down to three words: walk, stop, wait. You walk a little while, you stop, and then you wait. You repeat this procedure more than 200 times a day. Just walking to the coffee shop nearby will involve at least ten instances of walking, stopping, and waiting. I can’t understand why human beings would want to be so deliberately herded around in such a manner.
Speaking of herding, the program operating in New York is this: a herd of people assemble into one location, “graze” on a product or service, then move on to the next grazing ground where they consume some more. The only catch is that each field they graze on gives them a haircut by taking their money (or at least tries to).
Many sheep spend time on a crowded subway car where they graze for a bit, exposing themselves to advertisements. Then they move to the hip Mexican joint. They graze there, spending $10 on a sandwich that photographs well on Instagram but is quite small and will require another feeding shortly. Then they go to the bar with their friends to graze but that gets boring quickly so they need to migrate after half an hour to another bar. Then they need to eat at a late-night joint. People in New York are constantly shuffled from one grazing pen to the next in a very literal sense.
Sheep hate being alone, so they actively seek out other sheep as a sign that the grazing ground is good. This is why so many New Yorkers will try to compliment a place by saying “It’s always crowded.” So you have sheep telling other sheep where it’s worth making donations of their wool, and the pattern continues every day. In fact, the crowdedness of the city itself is what entices so many South American and European sheep to move here (sheep must be around other sheep). You will never meet someone in New York who says “I like being alone” or “I don’t care for going out.” The city attracts people who get bored easily and need to follow the herd, while simultaneously convincing them that they are different from millions of others who are doing the exact same thing.
What got me is how efficient this machine is. Without even trying, money is escaping my pocket even though I had no need that required spending it. It just happens in New York that the only way to have “fun” is to spend quite a bit of money, if not on food and alcohol then on drugs and events. Going for a walk in Europe usually costs $0 but doing so in New York will involve a minimum of $40 and the inability to fully recall where it was all spent. The city put me in a capitalist hypnotic state where I wanted to give away my money as quickly as possible.
It seems to be a rule that every girl who lives here is on birth control, meaning that you are also on low doses of birth control—and anti-depressants—if you just consume the city water. If you get into a relationship with a female resident, you definitely won’t be placed above her “lifestyle” or career, and the word I’m getting from guys who live here is that relationships are short indeed. If people love being herded from one grazing ground to the next, it’s no surprise that they also perform the same behavior with their lovers. If you live in New York, it’s impossible not to have a neverending string of casual relationships. You’ll need to sleep with at least ten people to have something resembling a normal relationship with one.
You’ll also have a dozen two minutes conversations per day that result in absolutely nothing, where you’re meeting people just for the sake of meeting people. And then you run into these people at some point in the future and wonder, “Where did I meet this person again?” Because there are so many human options, your brain gets quickly re-wired to be overly picky about who you develop relationships with, meaning that in a city where you are surrounded by millions, you’re intensely lonely.
Do people like diversity because of a natural urge within them or because they were told to like it? Some diversity is healthy but New York takes it to an extreme where you’re everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It’s just too mentally taxing to try connecting with people that come from entirely different places and backgrounds. Without strong physical attraction or a mutual shared interest, no friendship or love will result. When you’re young, meeting thousands of people a year from “all over the world” can be exciting, but if you already know the type of person you connect with best, it would be smarter to surround yourself with only those people.
My conclusion of New York is that it’s a great place where sheep can get slowly fleeced while thinking they are living in paradise because of the many food, entertainment, and human options on offer. The constant noise and action of the city makes it impossible for them not to think too deeply about their lives, but to work hard for money that they will immediately be donating back to the many wolves that prowl the grazing grounds.
For a man under 30 years old, I can see how this city could benefit his hustle and game, but after that it seems to be a way to limit a man’s self development by keeping him on a nonstop treadmill that lacks much in the way of deeper meaning or fulfillment. While there was a point I wondered if New York was right for me, I’m absolutely certain now that it’s not.
Read Next: 4 Things I Observed From My Trip To New York City
One of the reasons that Poland is on the decline is because young Polish women are buying into Western pro-sterility ideas, choosing to spend the bulk of their good years searching for stable office work and reality show excitement instead of trying to secure a good man to start a family with. This fact is confirmed by the increased percentage of girls I’m meeting who are on birth control even though they are not in a serious relationship. The current social justice Pope has so far not objected to their newfound lifestyle.
I’m sure that in ten years you won’t even have to ask a Polish girl if she’s on birth control, just like in America. They’ll all be on it by default, eagerly ravaging their endocrine systems just to maximize the sexy men they can fuck without consequences. To document this problem, I went on the streets of Poznan to ask both Polish men and women what they wanted in life. If Polish society was healthy, men would claim they want a good job (to take care of their family) while women would claim they want a good man. Watch for yourself:
It never happened that a woman first stated she wanted a good family before her job, and the more attractive the girl, the more likely family wasn’t even in the answer, mostly because she was already on the carousel and having way too much fun. It’s easy to see how the elite designed their cultural programs to get to the women before the men, who stare off longingly into space when talking about creating their own nuclear families.
There are two roads any society can now take: sterility or life. If a society is promoting women to work, consume entertainment, engage in promiscuity, take birth control, and practice abortion, they are promoting sterility, broken societies, and a guaranteed decrease in birth rates. If a society promotes family, belief in a higher power to help tame hedonistic urges, monogamy, patriarchy, and female housekeeping skills, they are promoting life, healthy societies, and an increase in birth rates.
If you are a young man who needs to sleep with over 100 fast girls like I did then you want to put yourself in a country that promotes and values sterility. When you’ve had your fill of that, and it’s time to move to a country that promotes life, you will find better places than Poland.
Read Next: 5 Reasons Why You Should Reconsider Going To Poland
