After two straight days we caught a break in the rain this morning. So after grocery shopping and walking Buddy, I headed out for my first long walk of the week. I opted to avoid the mountains but got in a pleasant enough 1.5 hours on the backstreets of Barretto. Well, the last ten minutes was in a deluge, but whatever. It still was good to be out walking again.
I need to be mindful about not letting my motivation for walking be sapped by bad moods or bad weather. I noted yesterday that my weight had crept back up to 204 pounds. I need to get busy and work that back down under my threshold goal of 200. Some discipline in my diet would help as well.
Last night’s dinner, a plate of chicken enchiladas from Dryden’s Cantina. Probably the best Mexican food in town. Sorry about the lighting, but I had my dinner served in the Wet Spot bar where I perused potential desserts dancing on the stage. I took a pass last night, but more and more I find myself thinking “Fuck finding a girlfriend, just take a different gal a couple of times a week and avoid the drama and hassles”. Haven’t convinced myself yet, but…
Speaking of moods, I came across this on Facebook and found myself nodding in agreement:
And not a “bad” mood among them. (Sorry for the poor grammar, spelling, and punctuation. That’s the way I found it.)
In the memory feature of Facebook was this photo of the McCrarey family back when we were whole:
Those were the days my friend…
What else? Well, how about a brief interlude into politics? Had to love this RNC ad featuring “the Squad”. The President nails them with their own words:
Still, there is disturbing evidence that Trump is racist:
The camera doesn’t lie!
Okay, that’s enough fun for one day. Oh wait, there was this. The ex-wife posted that bullshit from MSNBC about there being “no evidence” that Trump had visited ground zero after 9/11. Of course, that fake news has already been debunked by, wait for it, an NBC news clip of Trump on the scene. I honestly don’t even like delving into politics much these days, but damn, shit like this just can’t go unanswered. Well, Carol hasn’t answered yet, but given the time difference that’s probably understandable. She won’t accept it I’m sure. “You gonna believe what a ‘journalist’ says or are you gonna believe your lyin’ eyes?”
I’m gonna play darts, drink some beer, and forget about all this crap for awhile. I’m in the mood.
UPDATE: Well, apparently I was “in the mood” back in May of 2016 as well. Go figure.
It’s been pouring down rain for the past two days. That’s put a damper *ahem* on both my mood and my willingness to get out and walk. I’m ashamed to admit I even declined to do the Hash trail yesterday. I kind of regret that now.
It was raining when the Hashmobile pulled out and I just wasn’t up for a wet ride out to the trail. Also, the Hare was the one who did that trail two weeks ago that threatened life and limb. So, those are my excuses. The rain stopped for an hour or so shortly thereafter and by most accounts the trail was wet and flat. Also 9 KMs long. Anyway, what’s done is done, or in this case, not done. Hopefully I’ll be back to normal next week.
I did eat though. On-Home was at D’Kudo’s on Baloy beach. Inspired by Kevin Kim’s creative efforts, I ordered up the meat pie. My first choice was chicken but they were out, so I settled for the beef pie.
It looked pretty good (the gravy is on the side)……it was meaty but after the first bite I’m thinking “where the fuck are the vegetables?” Well, I encountered some a few more bites in, but still. Anyway, it was average at best, but better than the frozen ones I’ve had from the grocery.
D’Kudos is a scuba diving resort not known for it’s kitchen. I’ll try the meat pies at some of the better restaurants soon and report back.
I guess it’s no secret that I’m currently on a low ebb. I do tend to wear my heart on my sleeve after all. Of course, I recall all the platitudes along the lines of “this too shall pass”, and I recognize that in the big scheme of things my problems truly are meaningless. I’ve certainly been in much deeper and darker dire straights than I am at this moment.
It’s a transition as much as anything else I suppose. And what’s been interesting is discovering how many people are along for the ride. Being reminded that folks truly care and you are never really alone is comforting. Thank you all for that!
I’m consistent in my narcissism at least. In addition to my ramblings here at LTG, I sometimes leave cryptic posts on my Facebook page. Especially when I’ve been out drinking. The other day I posted what I thought was a rather innocuous statement: “Day 1 of the rest of my life. It’s bound to get better.” I was surprised to wake up the following day to comments from old friends and people I hadn’t heard from in years, offering support and encouragement. That made me feel better for sure. I particularly enjoyed this exchange between ex-wife #3 and my nephew Justin:
Carol: You are alone because you chose to leave your family and your country to live among strangers. I can see the appeal of an adventure but adventures end. Maybe its time for a new adventure/experience.
Justin: Obviously I don’t know the intricacies of your relationship with John, but at face value I have to disagree with your statement. Some of the closest friends I’ve made are Korean. I’ve shared and discussed things with my Korean friends that I never felt comfortable sharing with my family or American friends. It’s a topic I share with my mother on a weekly basis, I didn’t leave America out of spite or hatred, and I have no ill will towards my country of birth. I left because it seemed exciting and different to live abroad. I stayed because every day is something new or challenges my American mindset in some way. It’s not about the adventure as much it is about the personal growth I feel living abroad gives me. Honestly, I feel living outside the US makes me a better American. It gives me perspectives outside the American bubble.
Carol: What I said has nothing to do with me. John has children, grandchildren and brothers-that’s his family. John has acquaintances with whom he is friendly but no best friend. Thank goodness for the dogs or else he would have nothing or no one to call his own within his vicinity. And honey John is not like you. He did not immerse himself nor embrace Korean culture nor Filipino culture. He hangs out with other ex-pats. His contact with the locals seems to be hooking up with local girls. In case you have failed to notice, the man is depressed. He went overseas in search of fulfillment and happiness. It doesn’t appear he has found it. I am blunt and often tone deaf so I put it badly. However, I am not blind or indifferent. John needs try something different or else he is going to succumb to his depressive nature.
Justin: I don’t want to speak for John, but I think he doesn’t shy away from sharing how he’s feeling when he posts. I’ve visited him a few times in the Philippines and I would say his relationships are anything but transient. Some of his local Filipino friends have also become friends of mine. I’m also a bit concerned when his posts are a bit down, but any transition to a new city (and especially new country) is going to come with its ups and downs. I just think if John was truly unhappy in the Philippines, he wouldn’t stay.
Touching, isn’t it? I thanked them both and offered reassurances that I’m fine overall and I expect to be finer one day soon.
I’ve got to stay strong, my dogs need me!
Or so I keep telling myself…Buddy cracks me up sometimes…
Speaking of Buddy, he’s got a girlfriend. Or at least some bitch that runs loose in the neighborhood and likes to hangout around my house and tease the boys. Sometimes she even follows us when we do our morning walk. Buddy whines hornily but of course I won’t let them mate.
That’s her…
I’m not a total prick though. I have started leaving a bowl of dry dog food out on the front porch for her every morning.
And Lucky keeps an eye on things while she eats…
Alright then, onward and upward! And thanks again dear readers for being “my understanding ear”.
“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”
A nothingburger kinda day around here. Woke up feeling shitty, if you know what I mean. Also had nausea which is pretty unusual for me. In fact, I started retching but I guess there was nothing left in my stomach to expel through the throat rather than the anus. But enough about me!
Hey, wait a minute. This blog is about me, what the hell else am I going to write about? Let’s get on with it.
So, the usual Saturday night routine (hell, EVERY night). Had a few cold ones at Cheap Charlies while flirting with my Muslim bargirl friend, Maya. Then decided to change things up and try somewhere different for a change. In all the years I’ve been coming to Barretto I never made it into a bar named Wild Paradise, so I gave it a try. I was immediately besieged by several thirsty bargirls who proceeded to massage my arms and back. Another gal plopped herself down next to me and commenced to massaging my crotch (outside my shorts of course). I told them I only wanted to sit with one girl but they all continued on with their rubbing behavior. After a bit, the bartender came by and asked if I wanted to purchase lady drinks for the girls. I told her I was only going to buy one and naturally I chose Josie, that gal with the deft touch sitting next to me. I gave each of the other gals a 20 peso tip (40 cents) and they thankfully left me alone.
I chatted up Josie some but she didn’t have much of interest to say. She had a cute face but her body wasn’t in great shape for a 35 year old. Talented hands though, and she did get a rise out of me. *ahem* I finished my beer and she suggested I might enjoy a blow job. I looked around to see if there was a room for that kind of thing on premises, but she indicated we need to book a short time room. Eh, too much hassle. I told her “next time” although it is doubtful there will be one. I’m not that lonely yet anyway.
I left Wild Paradise and crossed the street to check out Double D’s, a videoke joint I sometimes frequent. There were some Filipinos inside singing badly and I wasn’t feeling it. As I turned to leave, Jhen, one of the girls that work there, popped her head out for a chat. And the first thing she asked about was the lipstick on my mouth. Oops, I’d forgotten about the goodbye kiss Josie had just given me. We had a laugh about that before I made my way on up the highway.
My next stop was one of the few girly bars I occasionally patronize, Wet Spot. Oh, for those that don’t know, the distinction between what I call a “girly bar” and the others is that girly bars have dancers on stage to entice you to purchase lady drinks and perhaps take out sex. Cheap Charlies and Wild Paradise have “GRO’s” (Guest Relations Officers) who will sit and chat and make you feel special as long as you are buying them lady drinks. In Cheap Charlies, that’s all you get–no take out. As I learned last night, obviously that’s not the case at Wild Paradise.
Which reminds me of an incident that happened at Cheap Charlies earlier this week. One of Maya’s friends was complaining about a customer who had offered to buy her a lady drink provided she let him finger her. Now, as I mentioned, CC isn’t that kind of bar. And even in those kind of bars, you don’t finger a girl in the bar. And oh by the way, to get a girl for take out is usually around 2000 to 3000 pesos ($40-$60). The commission a girl makes on a lady drink is around a dollar. So, this guy (probably an ignorant tourist) was doubly insulting.
I decided to rectify the situation by buying the offended lass a drink. And when it arrived I told her in a voice that I was hoping the asshole customer would hear “now I’m going to finger you!”. The expression on her face was priceless, and then I raised up my middle finger in the universal “fuck you” salute. She and Maya burst out laughing. Fun times!
Anyway, back at Wet Spot I bought a couple of drinks for my dancer friend Anna. I’ve mentioned her before, she has five kids that I’ve “adopted” as my charity project. Anyway, her big news was that her 17 year old daughter has managed to get herself pregnant. And so the cycle of poverty continues. Obviously mom is disappointed and so was I. I had thought if she had focused on her studies instead of boys I might consider helping fund her higher education. Oh well.
Anna’s other big news was that her 19 year old step daughter had just begun working in Rapscallion, the bar next door to Wet Spot. Well, what are you going to do? It’s a semi-honest living where you can an earn a comparatively decent salary (as opposed to working as a sales clerk at the mall for example). Anna was a little conflicted about this turn of events but really, what can she say without being a hypocrite? I teased that I was going to go Rapscallion next for some take out (yeah, I’m a barrel of laughs). But I did offer to buy the step daughter a lady drink. So Anna went and got her (the bars in “the Maze” have a reciprocal agreement, the girls get a commission on drinks regardless of where it is consumed).
So here I am sitting next to a teenage girl in hot pants and trying hard to remain gentlemanly. Actually, it wasn’t hard at all (not THAT pervert, the situation!) as I am not tempted by girls that young. Late 20’s is about as low as I will go. Still, it was past my bedtime and it was a weird circumstance sitting with mom and daughter in a girly bar. So we finished our drinks and I said my goodnights and departed.
And I actually had the good sense to go straight home and I didn’t get run over on the highway. A nice happy ending!
Today, I managed to walk my dogs before the rains started and not much else. I considered doing my afternoon walk anyway, but thought better of it given the delicate state of my stomach.
And there you have a slice of my so-called life here in the Philippines.
You keep calling me On the telephone You say you’re all alone Well that’s real sad
And you keep leavin’ Notes stuck on my door Guess you’re hungry for some more Girl that’s too bad
‘Cause I ain’t that lonely yet No I ain’t that lonely yet After what you put me through Oh, I ain’t that lonely yet
Eh, one of THOSE kind of days I’m afraid. The feeling sorry for myself type. It doesn’t make it any easier knowing it’s my own damn fault either. As much as I would love to have a meaningful relationship, anyone who means anything to me would put my heart in jeopardy were I to trust her with it. So I go on playing it safe with nothing at risk and nothing to lose. And that adds up to a whole lot of nothing.
Perhaps someone will come along and change my mind. Or maybe I’ll just get used to living without love and be satisfied with the other blessings in my life. Who knows? I sure as hell don’t.
In the meantime here are some random pictures I took of my fellow travelers passing by from my vantage point at Cheap Charlies. Yeah, I’m pathetic. I get that.
Sure enough, that’s a motley looking crew. No wonder the gals here call me gwapo. Not to mention my outstanding pesonality. Ah well.
And as if I weren’t depressed enough already, I encountered this guy on my my morning walk:
Poor guy is hungry and itches all over. I doubt if he has much longer in this cruel world. At least his suffering will be over.
I’ll leave you with a song I somehow remember from my early childhood. My dad would come home from work, open a quart sized bottle of beer, and plop a country-western album on the record player. Patsy Cline, Marty Robins, and this one from Leroy Van Dyke:
If I see you tomorrow on some street in town Pardon me, if I don’t say hello (hello) I belong to another, it wouldn’t look so good To know someone I’m not supposed to know
Just walk on by, wait on the corner I love you, but we’re strangers when we meet Just walk on by, wait on the corner I love you, but we’re strangers when we meet
Althouse posted an interesting story today about the way dogs are treated in India. And it got me to thinking some about the hierarchy of canines here in the Philippines.
At the top of the totem pole are those lucky animals that live in the relative comfort and safety of their owner’s home. They are fed and watered, get their shots and other needed treatments from the vet, and are generally loved and cared for. I won’t even try to ascribe an overall percentage of the dog population that lives this way. In my neighborhood which is comparatively upscale, I’d guess 80% or higher own dogs. An added benefit is that when you have shit you want to keep that others covet, a watchdog is a good theft deterrent. I’d guess the percentage is quite a bit lower in working class households.
The next tier are those dogs who have a home, get fed periodically, and exist in a universe that extends no further than the length of a three foot chain to which they are tethered.
This guy is relatively well off. At least he has shade and shelter. Many dogs are not so lucky. In the course of a one hour walk this morning I observed no fewer than 6 dogs on chains no longer than my arm. I just don’t get it. Why even own a dog under these circumstances?
It’s none of my business I suppose, but I honestly detest seeing an animal treated this way. I can’t say whether they are ever permitted off the chain or at least taken for a walk. But for the dog pictured above and several others I regularly see, they are ALWAYS chained in the same position as I pass by. Disgusting.
And then there are the dogs that I assume have owners but apparently have no home. They are always out on the street without leash or collars, but appear to be neighborhood pets. From my observations their diet consists of whatever scraps that may remain from a human’s meal. Many of them have mange or other skin disorders that go untreated. And of course these dogs do what dogs do, mate with each other. I frequently see them “stuck together” in the road and I just shake my head, knowing that in a few months there will be more dogs on the street. Sad.
Finally, there are the dogs who have nothing and no one. I see them all over on my walks. Literally skin and bones. Foraging in the trash for any morsel of nourishment they can find. Most of them are well on the way to being bald from skin disease. There are a couple I see almost daily and each day they look a little bit worse off. I dread knowing that one morning when I walk by I’m likely to view a corpse. Pathetic and heart breaking.
There are no rescue shelters or dog pounds here that I’m aware of. The locals don’t seem to notice or care. On a certain level I guess I can understand that. When so much of the human population is struggling to put food on the table, dogs are not going to be a priority. Unless it is as a meal.
Hot dog! A plate of dog adobo. Yes, just like in Korea eating dog is a thing here.
Dogs running loose and wild is also a hassle for human folk too. They sometimes knock over my trash cans and scatter garbage around the yard. I can’t take Buddy and Lucky on walks outside the neighborhood for fear of being attacked. A few months back there was a pack of dogs on Baloy Beach that were very aggressive. Even came at me once, but I managed to scare them off. I guess they went after some tourists as well, because the hotel owners complained to the Barangay (city hall). Now, they don’t have dog catchers here (remember there are no pounds or shelters). They do send out a crew though. And they just kill the dogs and take away the carcass. They even put up signs warning folks that loose dogs will be terminated. Heh, just like they do with the drug dealers!
Alright, rant over. It is what it is and it is one of the things I do not admire about this culture. I’m the outsider and my complaints would fall on deaf ears anyway. I saved two and that’s all I can do for now. Well, I leave a bowl of food out on the front porch for Lucky’s girlfriend (she’s one of those neighborhood dogs who hangs around). And no, I won’t let Buddy fuck her no matter how much he whines about being horny (he really does that!) We don’t need anymore stray puppies running around.
I will say there was one Filipina who told me out of the blue while we were out walking: “If I ever win the lottery I am going to build a shelter for all these stray dogs”. Here’s hoping she hits the jackpot!
My Buddy boy and my Lucky boy are doing just fine thank you! I’m not sure they even remember they are dogs these days. But I’m glad to have them around of course!
…place in last night’s tournament. I had a weak partner and I was throwing poorly. Oddly enough, the more I play (and practice) the worse I seem to get. Ah well, I’m trying to keep it fun regardless. We normally don’t even pay out to fifth place but there was an unusually large turnout for the event.
What brought so many out was the celebration of Jocelyn’s birthday… (BTW, “Ate” means “older sister” and is a term of endearment here.)…and as is the Alley Cats tradition, we had a pot luck supper in Jo’s honor. I brought my brownies as they seem popular with the gals…That’s Jocelyn in the white blouse and glasses. She’s a little older and heavier than the normal crowd at Alley Cats but she is one of my favorites. Witty and funny, sweet and kind. I’d be tempted to give her a go, but alas, she is in a committed relationship. Ah well.
Not a whole lot much of anything else going on really. I guess a Hash tradition is to have patches made up for big events and as a token of your Hash namesake. After 100 runs our kennel provides a personalized vest where folks sew on the various patches they’ve acquired in their Hashing career.
My collection thus far from a relatively short period of being a Hasher.When I retired my staff gave me a few of these personal patches as a gift. I didn’t have any input on the design but it does capture the two things I do the most–hiking and beer drinking.Pubic Head sent me this design which I also like as it captures the play on my Hash name to the Beatle’s song.
And so dear readers, which one should I adopt as my personal symbol to be worn proudly on Hash vests throughout the world?
Meanwhile, here’s a news article on the unfortunate suicide/crime that is rocking Barretto.
And finally, as expected, the Mueller testimony was a big dud. Liberal tears are falling like rain. Even Hitler is not happy about it! (sorry, for some reason I could not embed the video. The link will take you there. Funny stuff!)
Reckon I’ll do a haircut and a massage this afternoon. Nothing like living the life, eh?
Here come old flat top He come grooving up slowly He got joo joo eyeball He one holy roller He got hair down to his knee Got to be a joker he just do what you please.
He wear no shoe shine He got toe jam football He got monkey finger He shoot Coca-Cola He say I know you, you know me One thing I can tell you is you got to be free Cum together right now over me
He bag production He got walrus gumboot He got Ono sideboard He one spinal cracker He got feet down below his knee Hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease Cum together right now over me
He roller coaster He got early warning He got Muddy Water He one Mojo filter He say. “One and one and one is three” Got to be good looking ’cause he so hard to see Cum together right now over me
(I took the liberty of correcting Mr. Lennon’s spelling of “cum”
I’m sorry, this post title is totally inappropriate. But since it is just between us, no one who knew the victim should be offended. And at this point it remains unclear who the victim truly is.
I’m obliquely referring to the mention I gave a couple of days ago about the “suicide” of Joy, the girlfriend of long time expat “Flanno”. He claims he found her hanging in the bedroom, the family insists she was murdered. The police have since arrested him and are indeed pursuing the case as a homicide.
Well, this is big news in my small town. The internet forums and Facebook are burning up with accusations, speculations, claims and counterclaims. I remain firmly in the camp of “innocent until proven guilty”, but this being the Philippines and the suspect being a foreigner, I doubt it will work that way. Perhaps most disconcerting are some of the photographs the family has posted of the deceased. I’ve commented before that it is apparently culturally appropriate for Filipinos to take pictures of dead family members. I don’t have to like it or agree with it, it is jut the way it is done here. I did have the misfortune to view some of them on Facebook, including ones of Joy’s body at the crime scene. Yuck!
Anyway, the family is arguing that scratches on Joy’s leg are evidence that she was dragged and are not consistent with death by hanging. I don’t know about that. But this photo from a news report made me go “hmm”.
The scene of the alleged suicide. Those are neckties tied to a door handle on a wardrobe. I have a similar setup in my bedroom. I’m having a hard time imagining how that door/hinges withstood the forces that would inevitably be exerted as someone slowly strangles to death. I’m no Columbo of course.
I feel bad for Joy’s three young children, including the six year old that discovered her lifeless body. May she rest in peace and may justice prevail, whatever that may prove to be.
The news of another death on the other side of the world (Maryland, USA) also hit kind of close to home. A woman died of hyperthermia while hiking near Bethesda on a two mile path called the “Billy Goat Trail”. The temperature was apparently in the high 90’s at the time.
Judging by the photograph she wasn’t in very good shape. And it appears that like me, she enjoyed vaping. I’m sure that was unrelated though.
It sounds like she was doing all the right things–drinking plenty of water, taking periodic rest breaks and the like. But still the heat was too much for her body to overcome. Well, damn. It gets hot here too. And I often get shortness of breath when climbing the surrounding mountains. I attribute that to my COPD though. Anyway, I’ve never heard of anyone in these parts dying from the heat so I’m not going to worry about it overmuch. I do try and be prudent by not walking during the hottest parts of the day. So I don’t think I’ll be updating my “top 10 ways I’m likely to die in the Philippines” just yet.
What else? Well, hat’s off to Kevin Kim for his funny photoshop to a picture I took of Monday’s flood at Johansson’s.
I posted this on my Facebook this morning and it’s generated quite a few LOL’s!
Yesterday morning I took a walk down Baloy Beach Road. I was surprised at just what a pigsty it has become:
Did I mention one of my favorite Filipino foods is Lechon?Three little pigs and not a big bad wolf in sight…
And that’s all she wrote. Er, well, he wrote. For now anyway.
Yesterday’s Hash turned out to be something of a fiasco. But don’t blame the Hares! I stepped out of the shower around 2:30 and heard the tell-tale sound of thunder rumbling. And then the skies opened up. And it rained like something from another world. The lighting was directly overhead, punctuated with loud sonic booms. Damn it, I knew our trail was doomed.
I made my way to Johansson’s for the 3:30 scheduled start of the Hash and got soaked, despite carrying an umbrella. And this was the scene inside:
What the hell? I’ve never seen it flood like that after only an HOUR of rain! That’s how hard it was coming down.One of our lovely gashes (can’t recall her Hash name at the moment) not letting the flood at Johansson’s get her down.
Everyone was standing around with a “now what do we do?” look on their faces and it seemed clear they were looking to the Hares for an answer. Thankfully, my partner in crime Pubic Head came up with a Plan B. We’d do a pub crawl! Almost everyone was satisfied with that solution and the few who weren’t decided to take off and walk on their own. Whatever works.
I did feel badly that we had several out-of-towners who traveled to Subic for the Hash. Again, the day had been completely sunny and nice right up until an hour before our scheduled start. Oh well, next time they need a Hare I’ve got a good unused trail ready to go!
Walking to our first bar of the crawl this was the state of the street. Again, you get this type of flooding after a day or two of rain, not 60 minutes worth. It was like a downpour and a deluge combined!Our first stop was Blue Butterfly, the newest bar in town. The owner was thrilled to have an otherwise nearly empty place swarmed with Hashers…After a quick stop at Dive In bar, we moved down to my favorite, Cheap Charlies…Because our scheduled “on home” was under water, we did a last minute change to Hot Zone, the bar owned by our Grand Master, Humongously Infected Vagina (HIV). The ice was delivered and set up……and in due course set upon.The trail that should have been hiked in blue, versus what we did in pinkNo good deed goes unpunished. When I Hare I pass out some goodies as compensation for the hassle caused to the locals when they have a kennel of Hashers walking through the yard…
True confession time: Maybe the rain was my fault after all. When we were marking trail Monday morning I came across this demonically possessed doll laying on the trail:
Just to be safe I put my stick through it’s evil heart. I guess the weather Gods didn’t approve. Sorry!
Oh by the way, the rain stopped completely at 4:00 p.m. but the damage was done. I guess it was a good thing the rain didn’t start at 4, or everyone would have been on top of the mountain dodging lightning bolts!
And so it goes.
The thunder rolls And the lightnin’ strikes Another love grows cold On a sleepless night As the storm blows on Out of control Deep in her heart The thunder rolls
Woke up to a sunny morning. Agreed to meet up with my co-Hare, Pubic Head, to mark our trail for today’s Hash at 8:00 a.m. On my way to Johansson’s I’m walking down a sidewalk with a slight decline. It was wet and I saw the tell-tale signs of algae, so I expected it would be slippery. And sure enough, despite my efforts at being cautious, I lost my footing. Instinctively, I reached up to grab the concrete wall on my left hand side. Alas, the top actually broke off in my hand and I went down pretty hard on my ass. A couple of scrapes on my fingers was the extent of the damage though. Well, that and the loss of my e-cigarette that I’d been holding when I fell. It went sailing somewhere over the wall and wherever it landed I couldn’t see it. And so it goes.
Scott and I got to work laying powder and chalking arrows to guide the Hashers on today’s trail…The trail was a little easier to hike today because it wasn’t so wet. Hopefully it won’t rain before the Hash starts at 3:30.
With three hours to go clouds are starting to form. Que sera, sera.
As we hiked today, Scott told me that a pretty well known expat here discovered his girlfriend dead from an apparent suicide (hanging). Said expat is currently being held in jail pending an autopsy. From what I’m reading on Facebook, her family doesn’t believe she killed herself. Whatever happened it’s a tragedy. She leaves two young children behind.
I knew him by name and reputation but had never met either. Rest in peace, Joy.
I’ve kind of been on the offensive (heh, that’s a double entendre), posting memes I’ve found regarding racism from the left. I’m frankly sick of hearing that ALL white people are (fill in the blank) based solely on the color of their skin. Here are some of my favorites:
Hello? Is there anybody in that empty head of yours?“Why no, no I don’t.”Yeah, I know, I know. It’s all Trump’s fault. He is such a racist after all...The hypocrisy of many on the left is what rankles me most…I’m so glad this woman is working her ass off to ensure President Trump is reelected…
Well anyway, there ain’t much point in belaboring the point. But if I have any lefty readers who wish to express a contrary view, feel free to speak your mind in the comments.
In the category of things that really matter, I found this fucking nightmare of a monster spider in my downstairs comfort room last night. As big as the palm of my hand. I sent him to spider heaven via bug spray and never shed a tear.Ah, the good ol’ days of the early 80’s. Rockin’ it in my velvet shirt and Tom Selleck mustache. I was even a Democrat back then! Thanks for the memory Facebook…
Nap time now, then off to the Hash. I won’t be doing the trail again this afternoon though. This morning was enough for me. But I’ll still quaff my ration of beer of course!
I get knocked down But I get up again You’re never gonna keep me down I get knocked down But I get up again You’re never gonna keep me down I get knocked down But I get up again You’re never gonna keep me down I get knocked down But I get up again You’re never gonna keep me down
UPDATE: One hour before it is time to Hash and the rain is pouring down. This will be sufficient to wash away our morning efforts at laying trail. Damn it to hell.
Well, it was no lunar landing, but yesterday turned out to be a pretty good one.
Speaking of that historic event 50 years ago, I distinctly remember thinking at the time “I will always remember where I was when I saw a man walk on the moon”. I was 13 years old, sitting in a crappy motel room somewhere on Route 66 in New Mexico, watching “a giant leap for mankind” on a black and white television. The family was on the way to Memphis, Tennessee to visit my dad’s mother. We were traveling in a 1964 Rambler Classic that looked just like this one:
The 50 years since that day have been an interesting ride, that’s for sure!
Anyway, back here in the present, we finally got a break in the rain. I went out with Scott (Pubic Head) to scout a trail for Monday’s Hash. Scott volunteered to be my co-Hare and it was a big help for sure. He’s been with the Subic Hash House Harriers for over 15 years and knows just about every path that exists in and around Barretto. So he showed me a trail I’d never seen before and hasn’t been Hashed for quite some time. To me, something new and a little different is a quality I really appreciate and I think the Hasher pack will too. It’s a little challenging, with two uphills and a pretty steep descent. Kinda surprising because Scott (who is a few years older than me) normally will shortcut to avoid the climbs. Still, despite it being wet and muddy when we hiked it yesterday, it was not outrageous. The trail is right at 6 kilometers and I’m happy with it overall.
This is what the trail will look like (it starts/ends at the checkered flag, I just forgot to turn the tracker on when we left Johansson’s).
We will go out tomorrow morning and put down powder and chalk to mark the trail. Here’s to hoping the weather holds!
Another good thing to happen yesterday was a second place finish in the dart tournament at Alley Cats. It was a big one, with 20 participants (10 doubles teams). Me and my partner Cherry went through the winners bracket undefeated. That included beating my nemesis, Steve the Englishman who doesn’t drink, and his partner Nancy. Now, Steve is a better darter than me and Nancy is usually better than Cherry. And me and Cherry were very inconsistent all night. But we put it all together in that match and sent Steve and Nancy to the losers bracket.
Alas, they came back for revenge in the finals and reaped it by beating us twice for the championship. Still, it was a fun night. I didn’t play my best darts by a long shot but was just good enough to take home some money. Not as much as my bar tab, but still…
The dart action at Alley Cats.
Alright, indulge me in just a little bit of politics please. This whole “if you disagree with me, you must be racist” thing has gotten out of hand. Kevin Kim has an extensive write up on this bullshit over at his blog. Please go give it a read as it is spot on.
Apparently, no one thought #DeportMelania was racist or deplorable when it was being used by verified Democrats and journalists (is there a difference?) on Twitter just a short time ago.
My ex-wife #3, who is about as liberal as they come, left this comment:
She is not a person of color. So not racist. She could be purple and it still would not be racist. Its not xenophobic. Its lashing out at the hypocrisy of Trump. But then you knew that. You’re a smart guy.
The ignorance of that statement is mind boggling. And it is why you can never change minds of people who are so invested in hate they will never see reason. Ah well.
I also saw this on Facebook and it triggered my retroactive outrage. Shocking to discover my parents must have been racist:
I just realized my parents were racist. As a teenager, they often told me, “if you don’t like it here, you can leave!”
Damn. Is it any wonder why I turned out the way I am?
And now before I go (well, I actually went this morning just like I do every morning), let me share this fascinating article on the pooping cycle. You are welcome!
I hope I didn’t create a shit storm with this post!
Remember, if it goes in greasy, it comes out easy!
Fly me to the moon Let me play among the stars Let me see what spring is like On a-Jupiter and Mars
A lot of things really are inexpensive in the Philippines, especially those involving labor or services. For example, yesterday I got a very nice one hour Swedish massage for 400 pesos ($8). I could have received an extra 30 minutes for a dollar more but I don’t like being on the table that long.
This was actually my first massage since moving here which is a bit surprising. I use to do massages in Seoul a couple times of month. Back then I was paying $70. for an hour. Anyway, I went yesterday because of the ongoing aches and pains in my neck, shoulders, and back. For what was described as a “relaxing” massage there were moments when it was a bit painful. I woke up again at o’dark thirty this morning with body aches and took some aspirin. Today so far I’m mostly pain free so maybe the massage did some good. Overall it was a pleasant experience. And having a woman’s hands touching me (no, not there; it was a legit massage) for an hour for only eight bucks seems worthy of at least a weekly visit in the future.
What else? Well, I got my morning steps in despite being doused in liquid sunshine. Once again I got sucker punched thinking the storm had finally moved on only to see it regroup at my farthest point from home. Ah well, it is forecast to be heading to Korea for a visit soon and good riddance. Of course, we have another tropical depression forming off the coast here now. It seems this rainy season will indeed be rainy. Go figure.
I don’t engage much in political stuff these days, either here or on Facebook. But every once in a while I can’t resist tossing a rhetorical grenade. Like this one:
This made some of my liberal friends heads explode. They say it’s a right-wing conspiracy theory. Well, like the President said, I don’t know. But I did read this expose which may blow the lid off Omar’s illegal manipulation of our immigration laws. We shall see.
And while we are on the topic of politics, it turns out the latest rage in racism is the Gadsden flag. Who knew? I’ve been “flying” it proudly atop the right hand column of this blog for over a decade. And there it shall remain. Don’t tread on me motherfucker!
If you think this makes me racist, you are a racist for thinking so.
In what I’m sure has nothing to do with politics, this study said that 70% of Americans wished they lived somewhere else. And 20% of those would like to live out of the country. Welcome to the club!
Okay, let’s cleanse our palates of all the ugliness with this, shall we?
Hmm, that left a bitter taste in my mouth after all…
Of course, it is always big news in the Philippines when boxing legend Manny Pacquiao takes to the ring. He’s got a big fight coming up on Sunday and establishments all over town are going to be broadcasting the blow-by-blow. I don’t really much care about the fight but I do respect and admire the Pacman. He’s also a Senator here but more importantly in my view is he leads by his actions. He spent a goodly portion of his riches building housing for the poor. Lifting people up that way is something we could all use more of in this poverty stricken land. Good on you Manny! And good luck on Sunday.
Oh my! A break in the clouds. I feel like Charlie Brown trying to kick the football, but I’ve got some more walking to do.
Here goes nothing!
UPDATE: Curses, foiled again. Well, what are you going to do when you get caught in the rain?
After a wet and windy night I awoke to what appeared to be clearing skies. I took advantage of the opportunity by giving the dogs their walk, then heading out to walk myself. Here’s how that went down in pictures:
I hoofed it on over to Arizona for a breakfast featuring SOS. I asked the waitress if she knew what the SOS on the menu stood for. She said she didn’t remember and when I told her she laughed and said “that’s right!”. And when she delivered my order she announced “here’s your shit on a shingle sir…” Nicely done!It was high tide on the beach……which means the rain washed all the trash that folks throw on the streets into the drains. Then into the rivers to wind up in the bay. Only to ultimately be deposited on the sand. Disgusting. At least the Arizona crew had raked their share into a pile.After breakfast I continued my walk through a pretty typical squatter residential neighborhood here in Barretto. This is Abra Street. I looked in vain for a cross street called Cadabra. I guess it disappeared. Just like magic. *ahem*And here we have the infamous National Highway. Not so bad during daylight and after rush hour. But it claimed another victim last night… That’s “Canadian Joe” in the foreground. I didn’t know him personally but he was long time resident and very active in the pool leagues. Died crossing the highway near a local watering hole called Dynamite Dicks. Ironically, he was hit by a police vehicle. 81 years old. I’ve got to give the guy credit for living life to its fullest. Here’s hoping I’m still walking the streets, cruising the bars, and doing the things I enjoy at his age. RIP Joe.Continuing my walk, I passed the Rizal Street Market. Fresh meat, fish, and vegetables. Usually covered in flies, but hey, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?Mother Nature being the bitch trickster that she is, saw fit to have it start raining again. I took a short cut up these stairs and through the squatter town next to subdivision…Life is what you make of it and life goes on regardless of whether you are rich or poor. People are always friendly to me when I pass through. I like to hand out candy to the kids here occasionally. The family I “adopted” also lives in this neighborhood. Mama was outside when I came by but was shy about pictures…You can see my house from there…the yellow one behind the trees…And here’s how things looked FROM my house once I got in out of the rain.
And finally, Facebook has been burning up with people posting photos using an app that shows how you’ll look in twenty years. I finally relented and gave it a try*:
Bastards!
*I hope it is obvious I’m joking about using that app. I almost never play those games and as it turns out, with good reason. Beware the Borg!
And for goodness sake, be careful out there!
Ok, if you fall to your death once, well that can happen to anybody. Twice? Ok, maybe a little bad luck. But three times? That’s on you. (as seen on Facebook)
The tide is high but I’m holding on I’m gonna be your number one I’m not the kind of girl who gives up just like that Oh, no
It’s not the things you do that tease and wound me bad But it’s the way you do the things you do to me
I’m not the kind of girl who gives up just like that Oh, no
The tide is high but I’m holding on I’m gonna be your number one Number one, number one
I got some message on my phone that was mostly in Tagalog. The only part I could read was an “Orange Rain Alert” for Zambales province. Well, it’s been raining all day but it doesn’t look orange at all. Go figure.
I guess what’s happening is we are on the edge of a Phi-phoon (we are in the Philippines, so it can’t be a Thai-phoon, right?) And don’t you dare try and correct my spelling. I might go crazy like this gal did. Scary, huh?
I didn’t get to walk today because of the rain, so the trail scouting had to be postponed. Ah well, nothing to be done about it. Truthfully, I probably needed the day off. I’ve been experiencing a generalized body ache these past couple of days. Not sure what’s up with that. I did check the ‘net for dengue symptoms and I think I’m good on that account at least. Anyway, Tylenol takes the edge off so I should be fine.
Facebook reminded me how I looked three years ago:
Thereby providing me ample motivation to continue my walkaholic ways.
I’ll venture out into the wetness to chuck some darts tonight. Might even practice a little first.
Hoo boy, yesterday’s Hash was a pisser. I might bitch and moan about a trail that is too long, steep, or otherwise exceedingly difficult. But that’s the Hare’s prerogative. What I can’t countenance though is being unnecessarily placed in danger. And in my view that happened not once, but twice, on yesterday’s Hash. It actually made me angry at the Hare’s irresponsibility. I would never knowingly lay a trail where normal caution and diligence are not enough to prevent serious injury.
Okay, well no one got hurt yesterday, so there’s that. I exercised prudence by declining to follow the trail into danger on the two occasions mentioned above. So yeah, I took responsibility for my own safety but I was mad about having to look for an alternative route and it pretty much ruined any enjoyment I might have otherwise had. And I vowed to never go on a trail laid by that Hare (Two Bottles) again.
And another thing that pissed me off is that yesterday’s trail incorporated about half of the trail I’d been planning for next week. Not the Hare’s fault, but I’ll need to come up with something new now. Hopefully the weather will permit me to do some scouting tomorrow…We are On-On! Things started out well enough. Did some urban walking in an area I’ve been curious about but never ventured into…The backstreets, alleys, and yes, stairways, eventually led up to a path on a ridge line that was new to me. I always enjoy that.The view on the right……and the view on the left. Even after all this time I’m still astounded people live this way.
And that’s pretty much where the enjoyment ended. Because I was faced with this:
The photograph doesn’t do this hillside justice. It was steep, higher than it looks, and covered with wet leaves. Maybe if I had skis I would have tried it. I stood there in disbelief for awhile thinking “is he serious?” And then I said to myself, fuck this, and looked for an alternative way down. I found one without much of a detour which to my mind makes the Hare’s choice all the more inexcusable.
Another thing I don’t personally like are checkpoints. This is where at an intersection of paths, the Hare requires you to pursue all possibilities until you find the “true trail”. Now, you might get lucky and guess right the first time. Otherwise you’ll have to walk a hundred yards or so looking for trail marks. If you don’t find any you have to retreat and try the next alternative. If you are in a group you can send one person off in each direction and when (if) they find the trail mark they yell “on-on” and everyone goes that way. It just seems like a pointless waste of time to me, but some Hares and Hashers seem to think it makes for a more interesting trail.
Anyway, there were at least two checkpoints on yesterday’s trail. I guessed right the first time, but didn’t even see the second one. After going on for awhile without seeing any Hash marks I retreated to see where I’d lost the trail. And that’s when I discovered the checkpoint. Well, I’d already eliminated one of the options, so I headed on down and sure enough I was “on-on”. Still, I had a bad feeling about this path. It was eerily familiar and not in a good way. And sure enough my fears were soon confirmed. It was the trail that led through a creek bed that includes an 8 foot waterfall drop off you are expected to climb down. I bitched about that loud and long the first time I experienced it. If I had known this was that trail again before my descent I’d have aborted then and there.
Actually, it was even worse this time around. The rocks were wet and slippery. I knew with one false step and I’d likely break a leg. But here there was no easy walk around. I eventually decided to move to the other side of the waterfall, sit on my ass, and slide/crawl down. Because of tree limbs rocks and roots, that was no easy task. I made it with everything intact except maybe my dignity.
Again, this photo (taken from the bottom looking up) fails to capture just how treacherous this descent truly was. I will never forget this path again so I can speak with confidence that yesterday was my last time in this fucking creek bed.
Anyway, once out of harm’s way I shortcut the remainder of the trail (actually the flat part I was going to use next week) and headed on-home to Johan’s on Baloy Beach.
Where I calmed my ruffled feathers with cold beer and bay views. It seemed to help.
And at the conclusion of the Hash circle, I asked the Johan’s mascot for a little assistance:
“Please knock some sense into my stupid head so I will never, ever, again attempt a Two Bottles trail again”.
(Sung to the tune of the Mickey Mouse Club song)
S-H-I-T-T-Y T-R-A-I-L
Shitty trail (it sucked)
Shitty trail (it really sucked)
The Hare has laid another shitty trail
I would rather drink this beer than hike your shitty trail
S-H-I-T-T-Y T-R-A-I-L
Shitty trail is a Hash House Harrier standard…
UPDATE: Haha! I used the “worst trail ever” title just last month. But that wasn’t a Hash trail. And yesterday’s was worse!
Went to Arizona yesterday. It was good to be back. Only stayed for dinner though.
The view from my table. Priceless.I started with a shrimp in garlic sauce appetizer. 400 pesos ($8.)I had the Hawaiian ham steak for my entree 200 pesos ($4.)
I briefly considered ordering the Swedish meatballs but didn’t want to press my luck. Anyway, it was all quite good.
After dining, I walked up (or is it down?) the street to Cheap Charlies for some beers. Arrived in time to watch the sun go down.
You can drink just about anywhere, but it’s hard to beat the view from CC.
Another thing I like about drinking there is they play a good mix of music. Oldies from the 50’s, some classic rock, even a little country. And they play the music videos on a large screen TV. My head often feels like it is on a swivel as I alternate between the street views and the videos. But last night I kept hearing a distracting buzzing sound. I was thinking that maybe they had blown out a speaker or something. And then I turned around and saw this:
The guy sitting next to me was getting a tattoo. Right there in the bar. That was a first for me (and I’ve spent a lot of time in bars!)
Finished the night at Wet Spot and called one of the dancers down for drinks. Turns out she is a named Hasher (What’s Up Doc), although she hasn’t been to a Hash for many years. She happens to be off on Mondays so I invited her to join us this afternoon. We’ll see if she actually shows up.
Speaking of which, I came across a pretty interesting article called “The Unbearable Smugness of Walking”. The subheading provides the basic premise of the writer: “Glorified for its creative benefits, the pastime has become yet another goal-driven pursuit.”
Hmm. Well, apparently a lot of writers through the years have found walking to be a good way to get the creative juices flowing. But when walking becomes part of the work process does it lose its value as a respite from work? That’s like asking me if I’m ignorant or apathetic–I don’t know and I don’t care. *ahem*
For me, walking is as much a chore as anything else. I do it for a reason and for a purpose. Mainly to avoid becoming morbidly obese again. But yeah, it also clears my head and helps me maintain perspective in my sometimes troubled mind. I can also attest to the fact that I often think about what I’m going to write here at LTG whilst I’m hiking about. Which I guess undermines the premise that walking improves one’s writing. Or maybe I’m just the exception. That’s it–I’m exceptional!
It was a pretty productive morning on the internets today because I also came across this article: “Want to live longer? Drink alcohol, new study says”. Hell, I might just live forever! Oh wait. It says moderate drinking. Never mind.
And now it is time for me to bring it all together. Walking and drinking that is. Yes, I’m talking about the Hash my friends. The drinking club with a hiking problem!
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine I keep my eyes wide open all the time I keep the ends out for the tie that binds Because you’re mine, I walk the line
I find it very, very easy to be true I find myself alone when each day is through Yes, I’ll admit that I’m a fool for you Because you’re mine, I walk the line
As sure as night is dark and day is light I keep you on my mind both day and night And happiness I’ve known proves that it’s right Because you’re mine, I walk the line
UPDATE: I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised that I’ve used the “I walk the line” title for a post twice previously.
In September 2017 I was comparing how I looked after two years of walking.
And in May 2013 I was extolling the health benefits of darts, pathetically trying to calculate the total distance walked between the throw line and the dart board during a tournament. I was such a rookie at walking back then!
Had a bit of a catastrophe in the kitchen this morning. Came home from my morning walk and decided I’d throw some meatballs in the crockpot for dinner tonight. Now, when it comes to cooking I try to do things the easy way. And my meatballs are no exception to that rule.
So, I proceeded to get the pre–made meatballs out of the freezer and dumped them into the slow cooker. Added some seasoning and spices then doused them in spaghetti sauce. Plugged the crockpot into the 220-110 transformer and turned it on. Nothing. What the hell? I moved the transformer to another outlet and tried again. Nope. So I figured it must be a blown fuse or something, but nothing I could do about it now.
But what to do with the meatball concoction? I figured I’d go old school, and got the big pot off the shelf. I tried to pour the meatballs from the slow cooker directly into the pot and splashed sauce all over my shirt, my shorts, my socks, and the floor. Damn it! So anyway, I get what’s left into the pot, put it on the stove, and turn on the burner. Except the electric igniter (it’s a gas stove) wasn’t functioning. And then I realized just how truly stupid I can be. The transformer and the stove ignition wouldn’t work because we were experiencing a power outage again. Geez.
Well, I lit the stove with a lighter, set it on low, and laid down to catch 40 winks. I guess it was more like 400 because I napped for an hour. When I came downstairs my helper advised that I had burnt the meatballs. Aw well, I guess it wasn’t meant to be. The dogs will be eating good though I reckon.
Last night I played darts and finished in third place. That’s not bad considering I had a rookie for a partner. New gal named Faith, she’s Steve the non-drinking Englishman dart player’s girlfriend. I know he’s been training her up and I think she’ll be a good darter one day. Just inconsistent right now. She did throw a couple of double out shots though, so I’m not complaining.
I threw pretty decent overall, notwithstanding my failure to practice. I get teased sometimes because I will occasionally talk out loud to myself, saying things like “John, you gotta focus here” or “John, you got this out shot”. You know, just a little pep talk. Well, it turns out that talking to yourself in the second person is a scientifically proven way to improve performance.
Athletes who urge themselves on using the second person are more likely to triumph, new research has found.
Sportsmen and women have a greater chance of success if at the critical moment they say to themselves “you can do it” rather than “I can do it”, the study revealed.
And don’t you dare try and argue that darters aren’t “athletes”. Anyway, the bottom line is I had fun and that’s what it is all about. I guess the next time I tell myself “John, you need to practice your darts” I’ll try not to say “shut the fuck up, I’m blogging now”.
And another thing I did today rather than practice darts was answer this question on Quora: Have you ever immigrated from a wealthy country to a less wealthy country? Why?
I retired and moved to the Philippines a little over a year ago. I am an American but had been living and working for several years in Korea prior to moving here.
Why? Because it is a beautiful country filled with wonderful people. And my pension goes a lot further here than it would in the USA.
I remember my very first visit to the Philippines as a tourist back in 2008. I was shocked by the in your face poverty, even in the capital city of Manila. I’d never seen anything like it. The next thing I observed was how happy the Filipino people were despite being poor. Even with so little, Filipinos are also very generous. If one person is the family has 1000 pesos they will gladly share with a family member who has none, knowing that their kindness will be repaid when the situation is reversed.
Are there frustrations with living in a third world country? Hell yes! Bad infrastructure, unreliable utilities, shoddy craftsmanship, and spotty service are things you will frequently encounter. And if you can’t handle that you should definitely not live here. I used to get frustrated quite often until a girlfriend here taught me this mantra: “Take a deep breath. Relax. Accept the Filipino way.” I use it often and it seems to work.
A couple of years before I retired I brought a Korean woman I was dating with me for a visit. We had a great time but on our last night she told me she was breaking up with me. I was astounded and asked her why. She told me “We don’t have a future together. You want to retire and move here. Who wants to live in a poor country?” I responded that I can move to the Philippines and make a difference for at least some of the people here. You can live in your rich country and pretend this world does not exist. I want to make a difference.
I guess in my own small way I have. I have hired two domestic helpers and a driver that might otherwise be unemployed. I support a small orphanage where I live. And I’ve helped out some other folks in need on occasion. That’s a good feeling.
I’ll take the life I’m building here over a boring and vanilla lifestyle in the USA any day. It is far from perfect but I have no regrets.
Now I reckon I’ll reward myself with a nice dinner. I’m thinking the Arizona resort might just be the ticket. Peace out!
It happened again this morning. I’m walking along the highway and a woman walking towards me smiles and says “hello, John.” And I didn’t have a clue as to who she was. She was older and kind of matronly so it wasn’t a random bargirl I may have met some drunken night. I just smiled back and nodded, then kept on walking.
Something similar happened the other night as I left Cheap Charlies. A woman was sitting with a young child on the front stoop of an abandoned building. I glanced her way and she too greeted me by name. Again, I had no clue who she might be. I guess I’m going to need to start stopping and asking “who the fuck are you and how in the hell do you know my name?” Eh, but more politely than that of course.
I guess it is one of the things that comes with small town living. A couple of trike drivers know me by name (by virtue of being involved with Buddy’s rescue last year) but several others will call out “Alta Vista?” (my subdivision) when I walk past. I only take a trike maybe once a week so it’s not like I’m a regular customer for any of them. I took one last night because it was raining and although I didn’t recognize the driver at all, he knew how to get to my house without me giving directions. That’s a little scary!
On balance though, I kinda like being recognized as I make my way about town or when I frequent my usual haunts and venues. Hell, even places I rarely visit seem to remember me by name. I suppose it sort of makes me feel like I’m a part of the community or something like that. And maybe a little less lonely.
Making your way in the world today Takes everything you got Taking a break from all your worries It sure would help a lot Wouldn’t you like to get away?
Sometimes you want to go Where everybody knows your name And they’re always glad you came You want to be where you can see The troubles are all the same
You want to be where everybody knows your name You want to go where people know The people are all the same You want to go where everybody knows your name
Just a three minute clip from a great Seinfeld episode.
So, although I lean right politically, on social issues, including homosexuality, I’ve always been more of a libertarian. I don’t care about anyone’s sexual orientation. Not my business or concern and it certainly should not be of any interest to the government. Be loud, be proud, fly your flag, be who you are or who you want to be. Just leave me the hell alone while I do my thing.
In all seriousness though, I do not condone discrimination or other forms of harassment of the gay community. I’m not sure how big a problem that truly is in the USA, my sense is that the media tends to hype issues to keep Americans divided, including gays versus straights. I’m proud of my gay daughter who, while outspoken, never plays the “victim” card.
Anyway, I no longer live in the states so maybe I’m out of touch with the realities there. I can speak to what I’ve observed here in the Philippines and quite frankly it is shocking. This is a majority Catholic country and in many ways very conservative. Abortion is illegal. Birth control is available but not widely used. There is no legal divorce, only a lengthy and expensive annulment process. So it may come as a surprise (it was to me) that when it comes to matters of homosexuality no one cares! At least there are no outward signs of stigma or discrimination. Well, actually I just discovered that gay marriage is not permitted here yet.
But I’m not talking about the government so much as I am the citizens. I can’t keep up with all the letters in the rainbow universe, so I’ll confine myself to the “traditional” LGBT community. Except here in the PI it is not so much a separate community at all. People are what they are and are accepted as they are by everyone else. It is just not a big deal and people don’t seem to notice or differentiate between a gay couple or a straight couple. Why should they, right? Well, I guess that’s what I’m kinda doing right now, but only to make the point that it’s really cool that no one else cares.
In my small circle of friends here I know two gay couples. They are both part of the Alley Cats/dart scene and great fun to be around.
That’s Flor and Dean. Dean owns Alley Cats.Billy and Gerlie. Billy runs the dart tournaments and both are excellent darters.
Funny story in a way about Billy. I’ve always addressed her in the feminine manner but I’m pretty sure she identifies as male. This was brought home to me when I noticed the women calling her (see, there I go again!) “Kuya Billy” just like they call me Kuya John. Kuya is akin to older brother. Oh well, you can’t teach an old dog like me new tricks (especially when I’m drunk) but Billy never complains and jokes back with me, so it’s all good. And I guess that’s kind of my point, no one wastes time being offended when no offense is intended. That’s a great lesson for us all!
I can’t say that I know any gay males, but then I don’t know many Filipino men at all. I know there is a club called the Hunk Zone, but I’ve never been in there. And there is another bar in town called Count Nicolas that is a hangout for transgenders, or as they are known here bakla. I don’t frequent that bar either but I actually see quite a few baklas on the street as well. Again, no one pays them any attention and the locals seem to accept them as the gender to which they identify.
I emphasized locals above because some of the expats and a lot of the sex tourists do seem to have issues with baklas. One girly bar had the audacity to actually hire a bakla as a waitress and the mongers went nuts on the internet forums. Seems they were worried they might get drunk and not notice the difference before it was too late or some such crap. Well, honestly speaking, I’ve never been that drunk where I couldn’t tell, but whatever. It’s like the old joke–“I know my girl is a real girl. I can feel it inside of me”. *ahem*
My favorite non-dart bar, Cheap Charlies, flew a rainbow flag during pride month and some foreigners complained about that too. Bigotry like that seems to me to be perhaps more about projection. What is it about a gay that they really fear?
Ah well, there I go rambling again. The point being that people of all kinds and persuasions are accepted by the Filipino community. Their kind and loving nature are among the things I truly admire about them.
And now I feel empowered to admit that I’m a lesbian. Trapped in a man’s body. I love women. There. I came out.
Not a gay joke, more of a grammar joke. But still funny. In my opinion anyway.
I met her in a club down in old Soho Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Coca-Cola C O L A cola She walked up to me and she asked me to dance I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said Lola L O L A Lola la-la-la-la Lola
Well I’m not the world’s most physical guy But when she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spine Oh my Lola la-la-la-la Lola Well I’m not dumb but I can’t understand Why she walked like a woman and talked like a man Oh my Lola la-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola
Well we drank champagne and danced all night Under electric candlelight She picked me up and sat me on her knee And said little boy won’t you come home with me Well I’m not the world’s most passionate guy But when I looked in her eyes well I almost fell for my Lola La-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola Lola la-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola I pushed her away I walked to the door I fell to the floor I got down on my knees Then I looked at her and she at me
Well that’s the way that I want it to stay And I always want it to be that way for my Lola La-la-la-la Lola Girls will be boys and boys will be girls It’s a mixed up muddled up shook up world except for Lola La-la-la-la Lola
Well I left home just a week before And I’d never ever kissed a woman before But Lola smiled and took me by the hand And said dear boy I’m gonna make you a man
Well I’m not the world’s most masculine man But I know what I am and I’m glad I’m a man And so is Lola La-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola Lola la-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola
Just back from a seven hour brownout here. My helper says it was a scheduled power outage, but I hadn’t seen or heard about it. Well, while I was out walking this afternoon I did see the electric company was clearing branches from the wires. Hopefully that maintenance will prevent longer and unexpected outages down the road. Made for a hot and sweaty time both inside and outside today. Oh well.
Yesterday’s hike with the Sausage Walkers turned out to be a wet one. We met up at Angel’s Bakery as usual and saw the clouds forming, but decided to take our chances anyway. And spent most of the trek in a downpour. Still, I led the first portion of the hike over the trail I’m planning for the Hash on July 22. I was glad to have an opportunity to see how it would hold up on a wet day. And it turns out it wasn’t bad at all. Good to know!
So there’s this gal, Rheangelyne (Rheya for short), that I recently added to my friends list on Facebook. A few months ago she came on a few of the Wednesday walks and one or two Hashes with her German boyfriend, Dirk. Dirk is now back in his country for a few months. I actually found Rheya via a dating website I occasionally visit.
That would be her. And no, I’m not interested romantically. Nice girl, just too young and not really my type.
Anyway, she wanted to go hiking again so I invited her out. She seemed to enjoy herself despite the rain. She apparently likes making YouTube videos of her adventures and invited me to subscribe to her channel. Of course, I did. Now, the quality of her work needs some improvement, but here’s the one from yesterday’s hike. It’s only a little over three minutes long and gives a flavor of the hike anyway.
And here’s the route we took:
Just under 6K.
Last night I played some darts at Alley Cats and threw pretty decent. Good enough for a first place finish anyway. Imagine what I might accomplish if I actually practiced occasionally?
Me and my partner Gerlie.
I’m going to share some insights on a cultural aspect of the Philippines, but not today. I need to take a shower now. It’s beer o’clock.
